#It can't just be there for decoration can it?

[cloudtransprncy]

Dumb/Problem pt. 2

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader ft. Eunbi Pt 2 of Dumb.

Being a good boyfriend at a party? Boooring. Letting your girlfriend’s best friend drag you upstairs to fuck? Awh shit here we go again.

Her lips stretch around your cock, wet but controlled. Perfect, but not desperate. No mess, no frantic need to take more than she can handle. Just slow, deliberate motions, the kind that look good in the mirror she angled herself toward before she started.

Fuck, why can't she just let go for once?

It feels good, you admit, but not as good as it could. Not as good as it should.

Eunbi keeps her hands to herself. No stroking, no slick trails of saliva over her fingers. Just her mouth, just the steady rhythm of her tongue gliding against your shaft, the soft press of her lips forming a seal as she bobs down, then up again. It's careful. Too careful.

You want to tell her to stop thinking about how it looks. To stop being so fucking pretty about it. But you don't.

Her room smells like fresh laundry and vanilla lotion. The soft cotton of her bed sheets beneath you feels clean, untouched, like everything she owns. The dim light from her nightstand lamp casts a glow over her skin, making her look softer, younger. Her sweater is slipping off one shoulder, delicate pearl necklace resting against her collarbone—a birthday gift from her parents that she never takes off, even now.

She looks like she belongs in a romance movie, not on her knees with your cock between her lips.

Everything in her room is carefully arranged, intentional. Cream-colored sheets, layered blankets with knit textures, a few decorative pillows placed neatly against the headboard. A woven rug spreads beneath the bed, soft against your feet. No clutter, no mess. A single shelf above her desk holds a couple of books—her worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" with color-coded sticky notes peeking out, her planner filled with perfectly-lettered assignments and deadlines, a small potted succulent she waters every Sunday, and a framed photo of her and her friends at homecoming—perfectly centered.

Not a single thing out of place. Not even when she's doing this.

She has plushies, but only a few, lined up neatly on a chair in the corner rather than scattered around the bed. The Rilakkuma bear you won her at the fair sits front and center—a trophy of your relationship, displayed like evidence. The walls are warm-toned, decorated with woven macramé and string lights draped just right, giving the room a soft, effortless aesthetic. Everything in here feels curated, thought-out, a space meant to be calm, peaceful. A room that doesn't belong in the same world as you know who.

She looks good like this. Hair neatly tucked behind her ear, cheeks hollowed out in a way that makes her look like some perfectly curated fantasy. The kind of girl you bring home, not sneak around with.

This should be enough. This should be all you want. So why isn't it?

She makes it look effortless, makes it look like something out of a scene meant to be remembered, meant to be admired. But that's the problem. It's pretty—too much so. Like she's thinking about how this looks, not how it feels.

You want to grab her hair, push her down, make her take more—see if she can let go for once. But you already know she won't.

She's kneeling between your legs, jaw working as she takes you in again, but there's a hesitance. A limit. She won't spit. Won't let it get messy. Won't let it drip past her lips or smear across her chin. Won't use her hands, won't pump you in time with her mouth, won't let her own arousal turn this into something real.

It's a performance. A perfect, practiced performance.

She's soft. Gentle. Controlled. Not like her.

Not like Chaewon, who'd already have you up against the wall by now, who'd have spit running down her chin and wouldn't give a single fuck.

You tell yourself it should be enough. That it feels good. That you should just take what she's giving you. But some part of you—some selfish, impatient part—already knows where your mind is going next.

She just wants to be good at it. Not filthy, not desperate—just good. And that's the problem, isn't it?

You're frustrated.

"Come on," you murmur, voice thick, pleading. "Just a little deeper."

Your fingers sink into her hair, gentle but insistent, urging. Not forcing—never forcing—but hoping she'll listen, that she'll feel the way your body aches for more, that she'll give you more.

Eunbi shakes her head. A small, simple movement. No.

Your stomach tightens. "Please?" You swallow hard, trying again, voice quieter this time. "Just for a second."

Jesus, you're practically begging now. Has it really come to this?

She doesn't stop, doesn't even pause—her tongue moves over you, warm and slow, dragging along the underside, circling the tip, keeping her rhythm neat and measured. She kisses the sides, lets her lips glide over your length, keeps her pace controlled. Too controlled.

It's good. She's good. Gorgeous, poised, deliberate—like everything about her. Her dark lashes flutter as she looks up at you, the golden light from her bedside lamp soft against her skin, casting her in something warm, something that makes her feel untouchable. Like she belongs on a canvas, not on her knees.

But it's not enough.

You let out a breath, low, shaky. "Eunbi, please," you whine, shifting, trying not to thrust too much into her mouth, trying to keep still, trying to let her set the pace. "I need more. Please, just—"

"I said no."

Her voice is quiet but firm, steady, like she's not even considering it. Like it's a boundary so deeply ingrained she doesn't even feel the need to explain. No.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those doe eyes that normally make you melt. "I don't like when you push like this," she adds, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "You know that."

Fuck. Now you feel like shit for even asking.

You groan, tilting your head back against her pillows, burning with frustration, trying to fight the desperation curling inside you. She's so beautiful. The way she looks like this, her lips wet, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder, the way her touch is careful, precise

—

But it's not dirty. It's not messy. It's not what you need.

What's wrong with you that this perfect girl isn't enough?

She stops before you finish.

Just pulls away, composed, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her thumb before smoothing a hand over her hair, like she's fixing herself in a mirror, like she's resetting.

You let out a breath, half a groan, running a hand over your face, still aching, still tense, still fucking needing—

"Can I at least fuck you?"

It comes out rough, raw, too exposed, but you don't care. You need it. Need her. Need something.

Eunbi exhales, standing up, brushing invisible dust off her sweater, already moving on. Already done.

"I need to study. The AP Bio exam is next week, and I still haven't gone through the last chapter." She gestures to the color-coded study guide on her desk, sticky notes and highlighters arranged by subject. "You know how important this is for my scholarship application."

Like it's obvious. Like it's the only thing that matters now. Like you weren't just in her mouth, half-delirious, seconds away from losing it.

Right. The perfect student. The perfect girlfriend. Never lets anything get in the way of her future—not even you.

You stare, blinking, trying to catch up, trying to process how she does this—how she always does this.

Your head falls back against the bed. A groan rumbles from your throat, frustrated, unsatisfied.

"We haven't fucked in days," you mutter, half a whine, half an accusation.

She glances at you, unimpressed. "Maybe you should be studying too." She pauses, softening slightly. "Your Calc grade isn't exactly where it needs to be for State, is it?"

Low blow. But she's not wrong.

Then she picks up her laptop, flips it open, and just like that, you're forgotten. The light from the screen illuminates her face, highlighting her focused expression—the tiny furrow between her brows that appears when she's concentrating. Even frustrated, you can't help but notice how pretty she looks like this, how dedicated.

Your breath comes slow, heavy. You stare at the ceiling, still pulsing, still hard, still aching with nowhere to put it.

This isn't working. Not today, not anymore.

Then—

Your phone buzzes.

You reach for it, thumb sliding over the screen, hardly thinking, barely hoping.

A message.

From her.

But not under her name. You're not that dumb.

Your stomach tightens, pulse kicking up.

Chaewon.

"You and Eunbi are coming to Yena's party, right?"

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you finally type, "Idk, Eunbi's being lame."

Fuck, that feels disloyal. But it's true, isn't it? You almost laugh at the absurdity—worried about a text when you've had your cock inside her best friend. Your moral compass is seriously fucked.

The reply comes fast.

"Awh, what? She didn't give you what you wanted again?"

You don't answer. You don't need to. Your silence is enough—it always is with Chaewon. She reads you like a book, knows you in ways Eunbi never tries to.

A moment later, another message from her.

"I always give you what you want."

The frustration lingers, simmering under your skin. But now, it's shifting—turning into something else entirely.

You shouldn't answer. You should put the phone down. Focus on Eunbi. Be better.

But your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and you know exactly what you'll type next.

Chaewon is already on her knees. Mouth open, spit trailing from her lips.

This isn't a performance. This isn't careful. This is fucking chaos.

It's messy. So fucking messy. Drool pools at the corners of her mouth, her throat taking your cock fully. She doesn't just take it—she devours it. Not one controlled motion, not a single thought about how it looks—just raw, desperate need.

So different from Eunbi's careful rhythm, her pristine technique. This isn't romance. This is hunger.

The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, the muffled sound of people shouting over music bleeding through the door but distant—because you're upstairs, in Yena's family bathroom, the one she reluctantly said people could use if they absolutely needed to. "Just don't go in any bedrooms," she'd warned everyone at the start. "My parents would kill me."

Downstairs is chaos—bodies pressed together, drinks sloshing, someone shrieking with laughter while Yena yells over the music. An hour in, Chaewon caught your eye from across the room, a slow, knowing smirk curling at her lips. She tilted her head toward the stairs, eyebrow raised in silent question. You didn't hesitate. You followed, slipping up the forbidden staircase when Yena wasn't looking.

Eunbi would never. Not at a party. Not with people around. Not in a place you weren't supposed to be.

And now you're here.

Her hands stroke your cock in time with the bob of her head, tight and slick, not caring where the spit lands. It drips from her fingers, slides down her wrist, pools on the floor beneath her knees. She fucking enjoys this. Loves the way your cock twitches in her grip, loves the way your breathing turns ragged as she ruins you with her mouth.

You watch, mesmerized, as she pulls back to the tip, lets saliva gather on her tongue, then sinks back down in one fluid motion. The contrast of her lipstick—still perfectly applied, dark against her skin—makes the whole thing feel filthier somehow. That perfect makeup, ruined by what she's doing to you.

She moans around you, the vibration sending a shudder up your spine. Her eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze as she takes you deeper, deeper than anyone should be able to. When she reaches the base, she swallows—her throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

Where Eunbi keeps her hands to herself, Chaewon uses everything—fingers, palms, nails dragging just hard enough to make you shiver. No limits. No hesitation.

Your jeans and boxers are shoved down to your ankles, forgotten, useless. You're exposed, vulnerable, and fuck—she knows it.

She pulls off you with a wet pop, her lips slick, cheeks flushed. Then, with that wicked little smirk, she grips your cock and slaps it against her lips, her tongue flicking out between each tap. The sound is obscene in the quiet bathroom—wet, needy, filthy.

"She doesn't do this for you, does she?" she murmurs, voice wrecked, lips glossy with a mix of saliva and you.

The way she says "she"—like Eunbi is a concept, not a person. Like she's something to be pitied for not knowing how to make you fall apart.

You can barely think, barely breathe, but she doesn't give you time to recover.

"I missed your cock," she purrs, stroking you slow, teasing. "Forgot how fucking big you are."

Her thumb circles the head, spreading the wetness there, toying with the sensitive spot just beneath it. Your hips jerk involuntarily, and she laughs—a low, satisfied sound.

She leans in, but instead of taking you back into her mouth, she runs her tongue along the underside, tracing the vein from base to tip in one long, slow drag. When she reaches the head, she swirls her tongue around it, then blows cool air against the wetness, making you hiss through clenched teeth.

Eunbi would never talk like this. Would never say the word "cock" like it's candy on her tongue. Would never play with you like a cat with a mouse.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just holding on as she continues her assault on your senses. She responds by taking just the tip between her lips, sucking hard, then releasing it with another obscene pop. Again and again, she does this—never giving you the full warmth of her mouth, just teasing, edging, driving you mad.

"You want more?" she asks, letting your cock rest heavily against her cheek, leaving a wet smear across her skin. "Tell me how badly you want it."

Your breath catches. Words fail you. She waits, patient in her cruelty, one eyebrow raised.

"Please," you finally manage, the word raw and desperate.

She rewards you by taking you deep again—so deep you feel the back of her throat, feel her gag slightly before adjusting. But she doesn't pull back. Instead, she stays there, swallowing around you, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from the effort. The sight alone nearly finishes you—Chaewon, kneeling before you, taking you so deep it hurts, mascara starting to run.

She lowers her mouth again—but not where you expect.

You thud back against the counter as her lips part over your balls, warm, wet, sucking soft before her tongue drags slow and filthy along the skin. You choke on a moan, hands gripping the edge of the sink, barely keeping yourself upright.

You'd never even dream of asking Eunbi for this. The thought of her perfect mouth anywhere but where she decides it should be feels impossible.

The risk? Insane.

Eunbi is downstairs. Completely oblivious, probably sipping whatever drink Yena handed her, scanning the room for you. Probably checking her watch, wondering if you're just talking to someone. Trusting you, even now.

Your moral compass isn't just fucked. It's shattered.

A burst of laughter outside the door—someone else who snuck upstairs. Footsteps. Then—a knock.

You freeze.

Your stomach drops. Chaewon? She just grins. Breathless, messy, still on her knees.

"Occupied," she calls out, voice sweet, almost sing-song.

Where Eunbi would panic, straighten her clothes, check her appearance—Chaewon thrives on the risk.

A pause. The shuffle of footsteps. Then the voices move away, back toward the stairs—likely another couple looking for privacy in the off-limits zone, disappointed to find the bathroom taken.

She presses her hands against your thighs, digging in just enough to ground you, before tilting her head up. The bathroom light catches the deep brown of her hair, the strands sleek and polished where they frame her face.

A weeks ago, the blonde had made her look sharp, dangerous—but this? This soft brown, paired with the glitter dusting her collarbones, the sequined dress clinging to her body, the way she looks up at you with that expression—

She doesn't just turn heads anymore. She kills.

And she's about to kill you, too.

Suddenly, she takes you even deeper.

Your head slams back against the mirror as she forces herself down, throat tightening, swallowing around you until her nose brushes your skin. She stays there for a moment, the heat, the pressure, unbearable—before pulling back just enough to suck in a desperate breath, spit dripping from her chin. Then she does it again. And again. Wrecking you.

Her hands are everywhere now—gripping your thighs, sliding up to your stomach, tracing the line of muscle that disappears beneath her lips. She moans around you, like she's getting off on this too, like having you in her mouth is as good for her as it is for you.

The wet sounds fill the bathroom—obscene, filthy noises that would make anyone flush with embarrassment. But not her. She revels in it, makes it even messier, even louder.

Everything Eunbi wouldn't do. Everything you begged for earlier. Everything you needed.

Your legs nearly give out, knees weak, hands scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto. You fist her hair, not to control, just to survive.

She pulls back just enough to take a breath, your cock still resting on her tongue, before diving back down. She establishes a rhythm now—brutal, relentless, taking you to the edge and keeping you there. Each time she reaches the base, she swallows, throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

When you're close—so close you can barely stand it—she feels it, knows it from the tension in your thighs, the way your breath hitches. And she pulls back, letting cool air hit wet skin, making you gasp at the sudden change.

"Not yet," she whispers, stroking you with a tight grip that's just shy of enough. "I'm not done playing with you."

Before you can protest, she's sucking at the head again, tongue flicking across the slit, gathering the wetness there. Her free hand slides lower, cupping your balls, rolling them gently between her fingers.

The dual sensation has you seeing stars, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Your hips jerk forward, seeking more, but she controls the pace now, keeping you right at the edge.

Chaewon pulls off with a gasp, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, a strand of spit snapping between her lips and your cock. Her gaze flicks up to yours, dark, knowing. Smug.

"I want more," she murmurs, voice rough, fingers curling around the waistband of your jeans. She pulls them up for you, tugging your boxers into place, smoothing the fabric down over your still-hard cock.

Not "I need to study." Not "Maybe later." Just raw, honest want.

Then, like nothing happened, she turns to the sink. Washes her hands, pats her lips dry, eyes catching yours in the mirror. That smirk still lingers.

She doesn't ask if you're following her. She knows you are.

With Eunbi, you follow rules. With Chaewon, you just do.

Chaewon grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the door, slipping out of the bathroom like a ghost. The upstairs hallway is empty—everyone else obediently staying downstairs like Yena instructed, the music and voices a distant roar beneath your feet. Up here, it's just the two of you, the dim light causing the hallway to be bathed in shadows.

The forbidden zone. Where you definitely shouldn't be. Where Eunbi would never go.

She finds an empty bedroom—one of the guest rooms, judging by the neutral decor. Pushes the door open. Steps inside.

And you go with her. Even knowing Eunbi is somewhere downstairs, even knowing what this makes you, you follow Chaewon without hesitation.

Because Eunbi gives you what you should want. But Chaewon gives you what you need.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the chaos downstairs. Neither of you bother with the light switch. The only illumination comes from the moonlight cutting through the blinds, painting soft silver lines across her skin. It's enough. You see her clearly. She sees you. You both know exactly what you want. The music is a distant thrum beneath your feet, the muffled sounds of voices and laughter nothing more than background noise.

Chaewon doesn't wait. She shoves you back onto the bed, her hands pressed against your chest as she straddles your lap, her weight sinking onto you like she belongs there. Her mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and urgency, a clash of lips and teeth, her breath warm and sharp with the faint taste of alcohol.

She kisses like she does everything—reckless, unrestrained, like she has something to prove. Her tongue flicks against yours, demanding, teasing, making you groan against her lips. Your fingers find her thighs, gripping, kneading the soft skin before sliding up, tracing the curve of muscle until they meet the hem of her dress. You push it higher, inch by inch, the sequined fabric rough against your palms, a contrast to the impossibly smooth skin beneath.

She doesn't stop you. She only presses closer, grinding against you in a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that has your cock straining painfully against your jeans. The heat of her is everywhere, suffocating, intoxicating. You can feel the dampness of her through the layers of fabric, her body already responding, already wanting.

Your bodies remember each other. Like muscle memory. Like addiction.

Your hands drift up, slipping beneath the fabric, palms mapping the dip of her abdomen, the delicate ridge of her ribs, the smooth arch of her waist. She's warm, taut, her body tight beneath your touch, and fuck—you've wanted this, wanted her, for far too long. The softness of her skin contrasts with the firmness of muscle beneath—every inch of her body a testament to perfect discipline, now coming apart under your hands.

"You fucking love my body don’t ya?" she whispers, arching into your touch. "You must love how tight I am."

The kiss breaks, her breath fanning against your lips, both of you panting. You lift a hand to your mouth, never taking your eyes off her as you drag your tongue over two fingers, wetting them slowly, deliberately. The moonlight catches the gleam of saliva on your skin.

Her gaze drops, watching you, pupils dark, mouth slightly parted. She doesn't say anything, but the way she looks at you, the way her hips press down just a little harder, says enough. Her breathing changes—shortened, expectant—a minute shift that only happens when she knows what's coming.

You reach between her legs.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingers find lace, the damp fabric clinging to her, heat radiating through it. You push it aside, and the moment your fingers slide over her, you feel it—slick, dripping, obscene. The wetness coats your fingertips instantly, spreading as you press in, parting her folds. The sensation is electric—soft, swollen flesh giving way beneath your touch, the slickness making everything frictionless, perfect.

A filthy squelch fills the air, louder than it should be, and your stomach tightens. She's so fucking wet, soaking for you, sticky and warm, coating your skin like she's been waiting for this all night. The evidence of her arousal is undeniable—a primal, visceral response that no amount of performance could fake.

A groan rips from your throat before you can stop it. "Fuck."

Chaewon smirks against your jaw, lips dragging over the sensitive skin there, breath hot and teasing. "You hear how wet I am for you? Nobody gets me this fucking soaked."

You push two fingers inside her, easy, effortless. She gasps, her walls clenching tight around you, slick and needy, sucking your fingers deeper. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails biting into your skin as she rocks against you, fucking herself onto your hand, chasing more. You can feel the flutter of her inner muscles, the way they grip and release around your fingers, drawing you in deeper with each pulse.

Each roll of her hips makes it filthier, makes the sound of it wetter, the obscene noise of her arousal filling the dimly lit room. The slick noises of your fingers moving inside her cut through the distant bass from downstairs, somehow more real than anything happening at the party. There's something primal about that sound—wet, hungry, honest.

Her lips ghost over your ear, voice rough, desperate. "Been thinking about your cock stretching me open all fucking night."

Your cock throbs painfully in response, stiff and aching, pressing insistently against the confines of your jeans. She feels it, of course she does. And then—

She reaches down.

She pulls you out, fingers curling around your length, slow and deliberate, stroking just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. The contrast of her small hand wrapped around you, her grip firm but playful, makes your stomach clench. She watches your face as she does it, reading every twitch of your brows, every sharp inhale. She knows exactly what she's doing to you. The cool air of the room hits your heated skin, making you even more aware of how hard you are, how desperate.

One touch and you're already at her mercy.

Your hand is still between her legs, fingers coated in her slick, but before you can push deeper, she bats it away, shaking her head. She wants control, and you give it to her, because there's no other option. You're completely at her mercy.

She drags the tip of your cock against her folds, rolling her hips just enough to spread her arousal over you, painting you with her wetness. The sensation is maddening, teasing, an unbearable heat that has your fingers tightening on her hips, clutching her like she's the only thing tethering you to the earth. The silken glide of her against you, the warmth, the slickness—it's a cruel preview of what waits just beyond.

The way she uses her own wetness to slick you up. No hesitation. No shame. Just raw fucking need.

She hums, pleased, as she does it again. Slow. Excruciating. The head of your cock catches against her entrance, almost slipping in before she pulls away again, denying you both what you want. The tease is calculated, precise—she knows exactly how to wind you up, how to make you desperate.

You groan, forehead dropping against her shoulder, breathing hard. The teasing is torture.

She giggles, dark and amused. "You always get so needy for me." She grinds against you again, coating your cock with her slick. "Bet she doesn't fuck you like I do."

Then, in one smooth, fluid motion, she sinks down.

Your breath stutters, a guttural moan ripped from your throat as she takes you to the base in one go, her walls gripping you like a vice, hot and suffocating, squeezing you so tight it borders on unbearable. The sudden engulfing heat is a shock to your system—going from the cool air to the burning, tight clutch of her body in an instant.

"Fuck," she gasps, voice breaking. "So big. You stretch me so fucking good."

Your head falls back, eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching your cock disappear into her slick heat, swallowed by her perfect, tight body. The visual alone nearly makes you come—the contrast of her against you, the way she stretches around your thickness, the gleam of her arousal coating both of you. There's something hypnotic about the junction where your bodies connect, something primal and satisfying about the visual proof of your joining.

Chaewon trembles, her thighs flexing as she adjusts, muscles taut, abs tightening as she takes you fully, stretching around you. Her mouth falls open, breath hitching, a choked moan slipping free. The moonlight catches the sweat beginning to form along her collarbones, making her skin gleam like she's been dusted with silver.

She bites her lip, eyes hazy as she exhales slow, feeling every inch of you inside her. "oh my god," she whispers, nails digging into your chest, anchoring herself against you as she shudders, as she finally lets herself feel it—the fullness, the way you stretch her open.

You barely hold yourself together. She's so tight, so warm, so fucking perfect, gripping you like she was made for this. For a moment, neither of you move. It's too much, too good, too fucking overwhelming. You can feel the subtle pulsing of her inner muscles as they adjust to your size, the minute tremors running through her thighs as she holds herself still.

Then she does.

A slow, torturous roll of her hips. Making sure you feel every inch of her. The movement causes a ripple effect through her body—the subtle flex of her abdominal muscles, the shift in her posture, the way her breath catches when you hit a spot deeper inside her.

The way she works her body. The absolute control she has. Like she's been studying exactly how to make you lose your mind.

Your fingers press bruises into her skin, trying to ground yourself as she starts to move, her control unwavering, her pace teasing. She isn't rushing—this is for her first. The slow drag of your cock inside her, the way her walls flutter each time she lifts herself just a little before sinking back down, inch by inch, stretching around you over and over.

Her nails rake over your neckt, leaving faint red trails in their wake, legs trembling slightly as she builds her rhythm, grinding first, then lifting herself higher, letting herself adjust before coming back down, harder. You can see the concentration on her face, the focus as she finds the angle that works best, the depth that makes her breath stutter.

"Shit! You feel so fucking good inside me," she breathes, voice breaking with each thrust.

Then she lifts all the way up, just enough that only the tip remains inside her. And then she drops.

You groan, your hands flying to her hips, helping, guiding, lifting her before dropping her back down onto your cock, bouncing her, feeding her exactly what she wants. The feeling of her coming down around you again and again is almost too much—each time she sinks onto you, her pussy seems to grip you tighter, wetter, hungrier. The impact of her body meeting yours sends shockwaves through both of you, the wet slap of skin on skin adding to the symphony of sounds filling the room.

She cries out, her head tipping back, letting herself get lost in it. Her thighs flex, her abs tightening each time she slams down, using the strength in her body to fuck herself onto you harder, faster. You feel everything—the tightness, the heat, the sheer hunger behind every movement. The sequins of her dress catch the moonlight as it shifts around her body, like she's wrapped in stars, coming apart in your hands.

This is what sex is supposed to be. Not careful. Not controlled. Just fucking animal.

The rhythm builds. She grinds deep in between, tilting her hips, rolling against you to hit just the right spot, her moans turning into high, desperate whimpers. The sound of her getting closer to the edge makes your cock throb inside her, makes you want to flip her over and take control, but there's something hypnotic about watching her use you like this—the pleasure on her face, the flush spreading across her chest, the sweat making her skin gleam in the half-light.

Her breathing turns ragged, her voice dissolving into gasps, unrestrained, loud enough that if anyone was standing outside the door, they'd know exactly what she was doing to you. And she doesn't care. Each exhale carries a moan, each inhale a gasp as she works herself on your cock, taking exactly what she needs.

"Bet she never rides your cock like this," she pants, voice raw with pleasure.

Downstairs, people are dancing, drinking, talking. Up here, the world's ending. And you're both happy to burn.

You don’t respond, all you can do is grip her harder, guide her movements, lift her higher, bring her down faster, lose yourself in the feel of her. Her pussy is fucking wrapped around around you, slick and hot and perfect, squeezing with each movement like she's trying to milk every last drop from you. The heat between your bodies grows, sweat making your skin slide together, the air in the room thick with the scent of sex.

She moves faster. Filthy. Unapologetic. Fucking you like she owns you. Her movements become less controlled, more desperate—a frantic search for release that has her grinding down harder, taking you deeper, her entire body tensed and trembling as she chases her pleasure.

The bed creaks beneath you, the frame knocking against the wall, the bass from the party downstairs pulsing through the floor, through your bones. The rhythm of the music below seems to sync with her movements, like the whole night is building to this collision. The distant thump of bass is a counterpoint to the wet sounds of your bodies joining, creating a soundtrack to your recklessness.

Every sound outside makes this hotter. The risk, the recklessness—it fuels her, fuels both of you. Knowing that just a floor below, everyone is oblivious. Knowing that at any moment, someone could come looking. Knowing that what you're doing is wrong in all the ways that feel so fucking right.

"I'm the only one who knows how to take this cock," she moans, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.

This is what you needed. Her body. Her.

Without warning, she leans forward, her hands pressing against your chest for balance, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Then she shifts, twisting her body until she's facing away from you, her legs tucking neatly beneath yours, straddling you in reverse cowgirl.

Not just a new position. A fucking display.

Your cock slips free from her dripping cunt, the sudden loss of warmth making you groan. The head catches briefly on her swollen lips before it slaps wetly against your stomach, coated in her juices, gleaming in the dim light. You're drenched in her—your cock, your balls, even your thighs sticky with evidence of how fucking soaked she is for you.

The moonlight catches every bead of sweat on her neck and shoulders, highlighting the dip of her spine, the perfect curve where it meets her ass. Her skin is flushed pink where your fingers gripped too hard, already bruising—marking her as yours.

She reaches down between her legs, fingers slick with her own arousal, and wraps them around the base of your cock. You feel the squelch as she grips you, her fluids making her grip slippery. Her thumb smears through the mess at the base, mixing your pre-cum with her slick in a filthy cocktail.

Even her hands are fucking dripping.

She angles your length against her entrance, rolling her hips, dragging the tip through the wetness that coats her inner thighs. You can see it in the moonlight—her arousal literally dripping from her cunt, trailing down her thighs in glistening rivulets. She's so fucking wet it's obscene, her pussy swollen and red from the pounding, lips puffy and spread.

Then, slowly, she starts to sink down. You watch, mesmerized, as her cunt stretches around you again, the pink flesh yielding, spreading, taking your girth inch by inch. The sight of your cock disappearing into her is hypnotic—the contrast of her tight hole struggling to accommodate you, the way her body swallows you up.

She sinks down, and this time you can see everything. The way her asshole clenches reflexively with each inch she takes. The way her pussy lips stretch thin around your shaft. The way her thighs shake with the effort of controlling her descent. You can even see where you're splitting her open, where she's stretched to her limit around you.

The moment she bottoms out, taking you to the base, your hands fly to her waist. Your cock is buried so deep you swear you can see the faint outline of it pressing against her lower abdomen, distending her slightly from the inside.

You're rearranging her guts and she's fucking loving it.

Your jaw clenches, a low, wrecked groan spilling from your lips as you take in the sight before you. Her ass—round, perfect, jiggling slightly with each small adjustment. The dimples at the base of her spine. The way her pussy grips the base of your cock, her arousal seeping out around it, making the junction of your bodies a sticky, filthy mess.

Her ass bounces against you as she starts to move, the wet slapping sounds echoing in the room. Each time she lifts up, your cock emerges glistening, coated in her cream, only to disappear again as she drops back down. The suction of her body creates obscene noises—squelching, slurping sounds that should be embarrassing but only make you harder.

Your eyes trace lower, to the tight, puckered rim of her ass. It winks with each movement, clenching and relaxing as she works herself on your cock. A thin trickle of her own arousal has traveled up from her pussy, making it glisten invitingly in the dim light.

A rush of heat surges through you. You lift a hand to your mouth, gathering saliva, making sure it's wet enough, filthy enough. A long strand of spit trails from your lips to your thumb as you pull it away.

Then you press it against her ass, rubbing slow, teasing circles around the tight pucker. It's damp from her own juices running down, making your thumb glide easily against the sensitive skin. You feel her whole body jolt at the contact, her pussy clamping down around your cock in response.

She almost screams, her back arching sharply. You push your thumb in deeper, past the tight ring of muscle. The heat inside is scorching, the pressure intense as her body struggles to accommodate the intrusion. Her asshole grips your thumb like a vice, pulsing around it as she adjusts.

Two holes filled. Two ways to own her completely.

"Fuck—" she gasps, voice breaking into a whine. Her rhythm falters as her body processes the dual penetration, the overwhelming fullness of being stretched in two places at once.

You can feel your own cock through the thin membrane separating her passages—feel the rigid hardness of it pressing against your thumb. The knowledge that you're filling both her holes at once, stretching her to her limits, sends a primal surge of satisfaction through you.

She's dripping now—literally dripping. Each time she lifts herself up, a fresh gush of her arousal spills down, coating your balls, soaking into the sheets beneath you. The bed is getting drenched, the spot beneath you growing dark with the evidence of her need.

You take your other hand and trail it up her body, over the sweat-slick plane of her stomach, feeling the muscles jump under your touch. Her nipples are hard enough to cut glass, poking through the thin fabric like pebbles. You pinch one roughly, rolling it between your fingers, feeling her whole body clench in response.

She leans back against you, her spine a perfect arch, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can see the veins in her neck straining as she gasps for air, see the flush spreading across her chest, turning her skin a deep rose. Sweat drips from her hairline, tracing glistening paths down her temples, her neck, between her breasts.

Her nails dig into your thighs, breaking skin, leaving crescent-shaped welts as she uses you for leverage. She starts to bounce harder, faster, her control slipping. Each time she drops down, the impact forces a grunt from her lips, a primal sound torn from deep in her chest.

You can feel it—the way her walls are spasming around your cock, gripping erratically, her body starting to lose rhythm as she approaches the edge. She's soaking wet, her arousal making obscene squelching noises with each thrust. The sounds are pornographic—wet, sloppy, filthy—the soundtrack of two bodies using each other without restraint.

Your thumb presses deeper into her ass, timing the thrusts with the bouncing of her hips. Each time she drops down on your cock, you push in with your thumb, ensuring she feels stuffed from both ends. The double penetration has her babbling, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips as her brain short-circuits from the overload.

Her moans grow higher, more desperate. The pace is frantic now, almost brutal—her ass slapping against your thighs hard enough to sting, to leave both of you marked. The wet sounds grow louder, sloppier, as her body produces more slick, preparing for release.

She's going to flood the fucking bed when she comes.

The pleasure coils tight inside both of you, unbearable pressure building at the base of your spine, in your balls, making them draw up tight against your body. You're fighting it, gritting your teeth, determined to feel her break first.

Your grip tightens, fingers digging into the sweat-slick skin of her waist hard enough to leave bruises, marks that will last for days, reminding her who did this to her.

"Chaewon, I—"

She doesn't let you finish.

Her hands fly back, fingers wrapping tight around your wrists, pinning them down. She slams herself down onto you one final time—forcing you impossibly deep, grinding her ass against your pelvis in tight circles, making sure you feel every ripple, every clench of her inner walls.

A wrecked sound rips from your throat as your control shatters. Your cock pulses violently inside her, the first spurt of cum hitting deep, painting her insides. She feels it—you know she does, from the way her breath catches, from the way her cunt clamps down even tighter, milking you, demanding every last drop.

She gasps, her entire body seizing as her own orgasm hits. Her pussy convulses around your cock in rhythmic pulses, squeezing, releasing, each contraction drawing another jet of cum from you. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, her abs tightening so hard they cramp. Her asshole clenches rhythmically around your thumb, synchronized with the pulsing of her cunt.

She's cumming. Hard.

A gush of wetness floods around your cock, her release spilling out, soaking both of you further. It drips down, adding to the mess between your bodies, the evidence of her pleasure impossible to contain.

"F-fuck—" The word shatters in her throat, dissolving into a high, keening wail as another wave hits her, her body jerking like she's being electrocuted.

She's not just coming. She's fucking breaking.

Your vision blurs, tunnels, focuses only on where your bodies are joined, on the sight of her stuffed full of your cock, taking your load deep inside her. Each pulse of your release triggers another aftershock in her, creating a feedback loop of pleasure that seems endless.

You're emptying yourself into her, filling her with rope after rope of hot cum, more than you thought possible. Your balls ache from the force of it, your entire body trembling with the intensity of release.

Chaewon moans through it, her walls rippling around you, milking out every last drop. She's insatiable, greedy, her body designed to take everything you can give and demand more.

She takes all of it.

The only sounds in the room are ragged breathing, the wet squelch as she shifts slightly on your still-hard cock, and the faint dripping of her arousal onto the soaked sheets below. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex—sweat, cum, her arousal, all mixing into a heady cocktail that makes your head spin.

Finally, she exhales, stretching like a satisfied cat. Her back arches, pressing her ass more firmly against you, causing your still-sensitive cock to shift inside her. The movement squeezes a few final drops from you, adding to the mess already filling her.

She breathes out a satisfied sigh, lips curving into something dark, smug, victorious.

"I'm keeping it inside," she murmurs, voice low, syrupy, ruined. Her internal muscles clench deliberately around you, making sure not a drop escapes.

Her hips shift—a slow, final roll—grinding down, sending another wave of overstimulation tearing through your body. You groan, oversensitive to the point of pain, but unable to pull away. She's got you trapped, her body still locked around yours, refusing to release you until she's ready.

She doesn't care about your discomfort. She loves it. Loves knowing she can push you past your limits.

"For the rest of the party," she purrs, squeezing around you one last time. You can feel your cum inside her, hot and thick, adding to the slickness each time she clenches. "Walking around downstairs with your cum dripping into my panties. Right in front of everyone."

Her ultimate victory. Carrying the proof of what you've done together while looking Eunbi in the eye.

---

The bass pounds through the floor, vibrating up through your feet as you lean against the wall, nodding along to whatever Eunbi is saying. For the past thirty minutes, you've been following her through the party, a dutiful boyfriend with a plastic cup of whatever Yena mixed, pretending you're fully present. Pretending you can't still feel the ghost of Chaewon's body on yours. Pretending there isn't a hollow ache in your stomach every time the crowd shifts and you catch a glimpse of brown hair and sequins across the room.

Eunbi takes a sip of her water—she stopped drinking an hour ago—and checks her watch for the third time in ten minutes. The party has hit that point where the music gets louder to compensate for the thinning crowd, where people are either leaving or getting sloppy. She doesn't belong to either category.

"I think I'm ready to go," she says, leaning in so you can hear her over a particularly aggressive bass drop. "I'm getting tired."

The way she says it—gentle, apologetic—makes the guilt twist deeper. She thinks she's the one inconveniencing you. She has no idea.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, finishing your drink in one long swallow, needing the burn in your throat to ground you. "Let me just grab your coat."

As Eunbi gathers her things, you scan the room, knowing you shouldn't, knowing you can't help it. You find Chaewon by the drinks table, hair slightly mussed despite her efforts to fix it, lips still swollen from your kisses. Your eyes meet across the crowd, and the corner of her mouth lifts in that familiar smirk.

You look away first.

"Ready?" Eunbi asks, coat draped over her arm.

Before you can answer, Chaewon materializes beside you, as if summoned by your weakness.

"Leaving so soon?" She directs the question at Eunbi, her voice innocent, her eyes anything but when they flick to you.

"Yeah, I'm tired," Eunbi says, smiling at her friend. "Great party though."

Chaewon laughs, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You barely participated! Next time I'll make sure it's more your speed."

She hugs Eunbi, their cheeks pressing together, their perfumes mingling. Over Eunbi's shoulder, Chaewon's eyes lock with yours, dark and knowing. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, and you know she's thinking about what you did, what you released inside her—still there, still warm.

"Text me tomorrow?" Eunbi asks her as they pull apart.

"Of course," Chaewon nods, then turns to you. "You take care of her, okay?"

The double meaning hangs in the air between you. Her hand brushes yours as she steps back—a touch so brief Eunbi doesn't notice, but enough to make your pulse spike.

As you lead Eunbi toward the door, you feel Chaewon's eyes following you. You know this isn't over. You know that on Monday, when you see her in class, when you sit across from her at lunch with Eunbi between you, the game will continue.

You know you've made your choice, even if you won't admit it yet.

The truth is painfully simple: Eunbi is smart, perfect, and right.

But Chaewon's still hot as fuck, and that's the problem.

[complete-clownery]

some fun facts about this whole picture

(also just because I share all of this with you guys, nothing is set in stone, if you have your own theories that's the coolest thing ever!!! Share them with me please!!)

🍜Some of y'all said that Macaque was sitting alone but believe me just because Bai He turned around to chat with MK and Mei she is only there because Macaque came and Macaque is only there because Bai He begged him to tag along,

THEY COME IN A PAIR DO NOT SEPARATE IN GROUP PICTURES!!!

🍜 You might have noticed that some of the chopstick holders and sauce holders have stickers on them. Those were put there by MK. He first did it when he was much younger to help decorate the shop because he overheard a convo between Tang and Pigsy discussing renovation and finances - it was a whole thing - Pigsy even got mad at MK, but they figured it out eventually and nowadays when the stickers get too worn MK replaces them with new ones

🍜 Mei is showing Bai He a puppy video you can hardly see it

🍜 Mei hardly even touches Red Son in the illustration, Red Son is just completely distraught by the idea of being so close to someone. (He's very embarrassed they might be blushing a bit too (I just weren't able to draw that properly lol))

🍜 Yeeah Yeah okay,,, I know there is a shadowpeach shaped question in the room bugging your minds like: omg clownery is it on purpose that they are the only characters that we can't see the faces of???

🍜MK is sitting on the outside of the boot because he keeps on getting up and helping pigsy around (it's not even a conscious decision anymore, whenever they sit down with the others he sits somewhere, where he can easily get up to land a hand to Pigsy (or to anyone in general))

Except from this one ;]

And my answer to that is: I made this drawing on a whim, I started drawing it purely to mess around with perspective and expected to give up halfway bc it looked ass, I could have hardly given it any deeper meaning or thought. How could've I possibly planned anything? The core elements of this picture are all developed while I was drawing it...

See when I sat down and got an idea about a group picture I wanted to differentiate the celestial monkeys (excluding MK) from the main group

This picture takes place some time after season 3 and a bit before season 4. I would like to say that Wukong and Macaque are not a part of this group. Especially in season 3 both of them have done terrible shit and regardless of where they're sitting and what they are doing, they're not part of it all.

For Macaque this is pretty easily illustrated, he is the one who stands out the most, not a lot of people want him there since they did try to kill members of the group even if he was under the influence of LBD. He's at a different table. MK invited them bc MK genuinely wants to be friend Macaque, but this was already stated: Bai He wants Macaque to be there - I have a lot of head canons about their relationship but I'm not going to talk about this here cuz this rant might get even longer - but Bai He at first was scared as fuck with Wukong around, she only felt better when Macaque was there. She has gotten better since then, as you can see she's pretty comfortable with MK and Mei (even Red Son surprisingly), but she still needs Macaque there.

Well for once he is turned away from the pov, we cant see his face already distancing him from you guys the viewers.

Making Wukong stand out and look isolated is a bit more tricky... He's in the group seemingly chatting with Sandy, he's there, part of the whole thing, but there are subtle hints about his environment and body language you might notice:

Also I think It has been made pretty evident in the show that Wukong loves eating right? If he was perfectly at ease he would at least have 3 bowls of noodles, yet he barely touched anything, he's not eating.

His body language is also closed off, arms crossed, legs just next to each other tightly, he's not comfortable, he's somewhere else, Sandy is there but his talking at Wukong rather than talking to him.

I mean he almost got Mei killed and the whole plan screwed since he was unwilling to cooperate and share his plans with the others. I like to think that Mei just straight up ignored him for a while,, same with pigsy,, those two had enough of Wukongs past getting MK in trouble, they do not like him (and them being so buddy buddy with him in later seasons is annoying af to me,,, maybe season 5 gets some form of pass, because more time has passed and Wukongs actions in season 4 were considerably better, but they were waaaaay too comfortable with him at season 5,,, it bugged me a lot)

I think they're also very aware of each other's presence (I have a whole au that plays between season 3 and 4 explaining how Macaque started living on the FFM with Wukong, so in that context,,,, damn they are having a BLAST especially Macaque, he would like to be anywhere but near Wukong :] )

🍜Also they're sitting away from each other as far as possible, and (this was not planned and got pointed out by one of my friends) Wukong is sitting closest to the sun and Macaque is the one who is in the shade the most

Sorry about the big monkey rant, I am just so extremely shadowpeach pilled that it distracts my brain form everything else

And once again: I tell all this stuff to you guys, but feel free to come up with your own theories about the illustration, details, backstories, whatever you have in mind. You guys have different interpretations makes it all the more fun!!

Please share your theories with me in the comments I would love to hear them 🍎🍊🍊

I'll edit this if I have more ideas 💡

Wow okay

[fluffeebunzzz]

Love and Deepspace ✨️

The LI's being parents - Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and Caleb

Self insert x Reader

Warnings - none, Fluff, slight angst with Caleb if you squint on the song.

🌟 Xavier: I think would be a boy dad, I can totally see him with your son passed out on his shoulder. Taking after his dad with his excessive amount of sleep bordering on concerning. His soft little sighs as his little hands hold onto Xavier's shirt while his Dad just plops himself down onto the floor inbetween your legs. Leaning his back against the couch and leaning his head back to look at you from his position. "Requesting head rubs for me and our little star?" Who are you to deny the both of them? You have two hands, after all.

🐟 Rafayel: Rafayel is a girl dad through and through. He would be the type to spoil the hell out of your daughter and when she develops his over dramatic antics he's regularly requesting back up from you.

It all started when Thomas gifted her an artist Barbie for her birthday and since then your daughters been trying to paint everything she could get her hands on. It also didn't help that the paint she procured was from Rafayels reject bin, a mass of shades and paints that didn't pass his quality test. "No sweet pea, you can't use that shade of green, its bad. It would clash, here let me get you-", "You're bad Papa!" She would shout back at him in a childish outburst that only a toddler could do so confidently. Confidently enough that it would leave Rafayel flabbergasted while he watches her proceed to paint her Barbie car that horrible seafoam green he hated while he yells for you to come help him.

"Y/N, OUR SWEET PEAS BEEN POSSESSED."

⛄️ Zayne: Whole heartedly believe he would be a girl dad, no question about it. I can see him reading her bedtime stories and being the one to provide emergency surgeries to her stuffed animals. "Mr.Stuffins hurt his paw again? Where'd he get hurt this time snowflake?" Through fat tears holding Mr.Stuffins disembodied limb your daughter would bable back, "H-he got caught on t-the slide when I went down and I hurt him." Smiling softly he'd wipe her tears away and pat her head gently before taking the limb from her hands. "It's okay sweetheart, Papa's going to fix him right up. Do you want to help hold him steady?" Letting her know it's okay and so she can get closure on accidently hurting her stuffie.

🐦‍⬛ Sylus: Sylus I can see as having two daughters with you. You're currently pregnant with your second while sitting on the couch next to Sylus. All the while your 3 year old is digging through your hair supplies, determined to make her dad pretty. Grabbing handfuls of butterfly clips and star clips to press in, she's creating sporadic patches of hair that sticks up in small pigtails. Her hands clap together in joy as her work comes together while Sylus is gently teasing her - "Be careful, little bird. You're going to make your dad go bald." Giggles erupting from her as she grabs another clip with red gems surrounding it, reaching her small hand out to his for his approval before he laughs and gives the go ahead. (Do you or do you not feel Bonita Sylus?)

🍎 Caleb: Caleb would 100% be a dad to twins, 1 boy and 1 girl. He was absolutely ecstatic when you told him, clearing off his schedule for the next two weeks leaving Liam to handle things unless under dire means. He's immediately taking you to pick out nursery supplies, making the spareroom in Skyhaven into their nursery and getting giddy over baby clothes with you. He's already plotting out decorative themes, airplanes, ships, apples, sunflowers, you name it. His favorite nursery find in particular was the windchimes he found while picking up formula that you could program to play certain songs - his go to song for it was "You are my Sunshine".

He also knew that the pregnancy was going to take it's toll on you just due to the nature of it being twins and thus after giving birth to your twins he purchased a twin holster. That way he could keep the two strapped to his chest while they slept against him while he cooked dinner for the both of you. Your son was starting to get fussy when Caleb crouched down to grab a pot to start his soup base in as he rubs a soothing hand against his back bouncing himself on one heel as he stands. "Shhh, its okay peanut I got you. Mama's resting, are ya hungry?" He'd offer, reaching into the fridge and moving to heat up some of the milk stored for your babies. Swiftly popping a warm bottle into your sons mouth, while checking on your daughter who's still out cold on his chest. Listening to the quiet content sighs your son was making while drinking Caleb starts humming a soft nonsensical tune to himself, or should I say it's only nonsensical if you havent heard the song that would play on the windchimes in their nursery. Caleb continues cooking for you and your family. He's forever grateful to you for being back in his life and for gifting him his sunflower babies.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi 🌺

Spring, lazy morning and music for Terry please 😊

(I just realized spring will start in 23 days! Can't wait!)

Thank you!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989 @buckysteveloki-me

It’s Sunday, Terry’s favourite day of the week because he gets to spend the morning cuddled up with you as you sleep cradled in his arms. The Spring light filters in through the window, warming your bare skin with it’s glow.

You’ve kicked the covers off in your slumber, revealing the white tank top you like to sleep in and pretty red panties decorated with tiny white hearts dotted all over the fabric. His fingertips trace lightly over them, doodling gentle patterns over your clit.

The pressure is soft, delicate, nothing more then a teasing stroke but Terry can feel your wetness already, he can taste it in the air. His lips chase along the curve of your throat and your breathing starts to hitch. The ecstasy crashes into in you in waves, each one dragging you under, overwhelming you until you’re consumed by the rapture, by the euphoria that floods your entire being.

You make the sweetest sound when you come, a stifled gasp whispered into the pillow and it’s music to Terry’s ears as he flattens his palm, cupping you through the underwear. His fingertips trail lower, caressing that special place, the one that’s always so willing, so wet for him.

“That’s one kitten kitten.” He purrs into your ear as he pushes the damp fabric aside, his fingers sinking into you. “Let’s go for two.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[daylighted]

Hiya, hun!! I have this idea stuck in my head for weeks, and I just can’t get rid of it. I keep thinking about Baby!Reader picking out and putting together cute outfits. But!!! She can’t go out in them until Dean gives the okay not because he controls what she wears, but because she wants his approval 🙃

OH MY GOD YES :( !!! she watches the home decor channel RELIGIOUSLY. it is her favorite channel aside from food network because she LOVESSS chopped. she will look at the winchesters and be like "now why don't you guys make this stuff." bc she is so silly !!! but the home decor is her personal fave ever bc she learns what colors go together !!! and uses it !!!!

the first time she is proud of an outfit, she literally would BARGE into whatever room he's in. kitchen? thank god he's cooking because she's SICK of french fries, but she will interrupt it. bathroom? truly hope he's showering and even then she WILL pull open that curtain because she is excited.

and she'll be like "look!!"

and dean's like... yes, you are wearing... a dress...

and that is simply not enough for her. it would never be enough for her. she wants him to sit down and break down all of the choices she made, even though she knows the choices, she made them, she wants him to be proud of her expertise.

so she will glare so hard at him, even if he is naked in the shower she does not care !!!! and be like, "no, i am wearing a little black dress to match my little black jacket."

and obviously, dean noticed all of this, but he does not understand the point of why this was detrimental enough to break into and hijack his shower. not that he minds? it's just a little intense that the first time she sees him naked, she doesn't even care, she just wants to show off a dress, but hey, now you're even? and he's like, "what's the point of this, baby?"

naturally, she's furious. you put so much thought into this. "and i have a pretty red headband that i matched to my shoes, see?" insert her kicking out her leg to stomp on the edge of the tub, so he can't escape it. yep, the red of the shoes matches the red of her headband. can't deny it. "it's pretty, isn't it?"

dean, so afraid of metaphorically stepping on her metaphorical toes, goes, "...yes?"

not enough! "do you like it?"

"yes, baby, i like it. can you shut the curtain?"

"no. tell me what all you like." this was the true testament, after all.

so dean was being a fashion critic while his ass was out. this was not how he expected this evening to go, but honestly, he had to stop expecting anything to go any sort of way with baby around. "you know i love you in that jacket, baby. i'm glad you convinced me to get you that dress, because it looks goddamn beautiful on you. i've told you over and over that i love you in red—"

she cuts him off enthusiastically, clapping her hands together. "yes! yes, yes, yes!" dean does not know what he said to elicit this reaction, but he'll take it? he thinks? "i picked the red for that reason!"

pause. "because i like you in it?"

"yes!" why did she ever doubt dean? ever? "you said eleven days ago that i looked pretty in your old red t-shirt, remember? and i thought you'd like it if i wore red again, but i wanted to make it fit, you know? i wanted to make a whole..." what did the home decor channel say? "a statement piece!"

dean doesn't even remember, now, that his entire ass is out. that he's entirely naked, and she's entirely dressed, because here she is in front of him, telling him that she internalizes his compliments and implement them for his approval. he's enamored. really! he is! this is not a situation he can convince himself otherwise of, he's beguiled.

"you look beautiful." his smile is softer around the edges, without the panicked urgency over the fact that she was standing in front of him, only the edge of a tub separating the both of them. not for the first time, he wants to kiss her. for the first time, he doesn't want to deny it or pretend otherwise. "can we shut the curtain now? i don't wanna keep talkin' to you like this. i wanna give you all of my attention, okay baby?"

"i don't want to leave." of course she didn't, but he needed her to leave, because he was stuck on this two lane road of kissing her or not, and he was drifting very much into the lane that ended with his mouth on hers. "i can sit here on the sink. we can talk like that."

horrible idea, but dean was very horrible at telling baby no. it was getting worse, too. he was driving very quickly down a dead end, waiting to crash into a wall he could never turn back from.

"okay." dean watches her for a moment or so longer, his smile falling into one more admiring than anything. at least it was just them both in this room, and therefore sam could not use any of this against him. "by the way," he adds like an afterthought, after he shoves the curtain back closed so he can't see the utter adoration in her gaze, "i expect to see all of your outfits, now."

and baby would do it. she'd do anything so long as he called her pretty like that.

[suteflower]

LARGE REQUEST OPEN!!!

So on next month i will be making a trip , so the request all going to be open all march !!

What do I convert;

Wallpapers / Floors

Objects

Clothings

Accessories

Shoes

Prices categories;

Free - 1 or 2 items

$5 - 1 a 4 items

$8 - 1 a 7 items

$15 - 1 a 13 items

$20 - 1 a 18 items

$25 - 1 a 23 items

$35 - 1 a 33 items

$50 - 1 a 47 items

If you want more items send me a message so we can talk about it <3

How to make the request;

Before making the request on Ko-Fi send me a dm with what you are interested in requesting, so I can see if it's something I can convert or not. If you want requests a big request , you can make a doc with the itens if you thing is better <3

After that you can make the request on my Ko-Fi (JUST IF YOU MADE A PAY) with the items you decide and the place where I can message you and send the items.

Some observations:

Set/Collections don't count as 1 item (the first time I accepted it and it took a lot of time).If is a set of objects, i can think about count as 1 (just is is a decor set).

I can't always make all the items recolorable.

Creators like Jius,Gorilla3x,AggressiveKitty, CWB and others like them, I need to see which items you want, some cc's from these creators are very high poly and I can't always convert them.

Objects that i don't convert; Cars, kitchen counters, functional mattresses,Computers,Bathtubs,HotTubs.

Please give me a minimum of 2 hours to decide if i can convert the cc your ask (especially if for something alpha cc)

I have a spreadsheet and a drive folder were you can see about my conversions and have acess on all my conversions before i release!

Dont worrie i will convert the new request ate the same time of the olds so you dont need to wait to much , if is something that you need fast, just tell me.

[strawberrybunnystuff]

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙊𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 💋

Synopsis: The place and how your first kiss happened.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

The Night Hunter

The place: In a dark and cramped place. Possibly an alley within murkoff itself.

He watches you for a long period of time. His eyes shining like small, more powerful headlights in the dark.

Without warning, he would pull you by the side of your waist, bringing you into the darkness with him.

His kiss would be firm and accurate. His mouth would completely dominate yours.

He would pull away to look into your eyes.

"Now you are mine."

Leland Coyle

The place: In some room/area with poor lighting. After an intense tease.

He waits for you to enter the almost completely dark room, lit only by a faint light coming from the lamp on the ceiling.

He comes up behind you, holding and lifting your face with his strong hand to make you look down at him.

Smiling mischievously.

"You want this, don't you?"

He murmurs as he brushes his lips against yours.

He waits for the moment that feels right. When Leland finally kisses you, it's slow and calculated. The movements, he savored every second.

If you try to run away from the kiss, he grabs your arm.

"Don't run away now, sweetheart."

Franco Barbi

The place: Anywhere. After you finish saving your life, whether from danger or someone else.

Just like his heart, Franco's beats frantically. As if the two of them would jump out of their bodies at any moment.

Franco doesn't wait a second, even with your breaths racing, without warning he presses his lips against yours.

Desperate and deep is the kiss.

While your lips are together, Franco's hands roam all over your body. As if he doesn't want to let you go, ever.

After his lips came apart, Franco temporarily didn't say a single word. He just kept his blue eyes on you.

If there is any description of passionate eyes, it would be Franco's.

Mother Gooseberry

The place: In a room decorated in a childish and macabre way.

You and Gooseberry are sitting on a small bed.

Her gloved hand cups your face, so firm but still so gentle. His wide, unsettling smile.

"My sweet darling, you are so precious..."

Gooseberry will bring your face close. Their lips touch. His kiss is long and soft, maternal.

As she kisses you, her gloved finger caresses your sweet cheek.

When she lets go of you and walks away, her eyes shine with an obsessive, almost predatory love. A trap you won't escape.

"Now, my little doll...belongs to me forever."

Dr. Esterman

The place: On a laboratory table, in the cold light of fluorescent lamps.

You are sitting at the laboratory table that Esterman usually uses to do her research.

You can watch people from the coast. He seems so focused on whatever he's doing.

Esterman turns around and you finally notice that he is somehow different.

His eyes almost as if they could penetrate your soul.

Esterman starts to approach you.

"Love is a fascinating chemical reaction, did you know?"

Esterman's body is very close. All that stops him from merging with you are your legs together that move his body apart.

Esterman bends her own body and presses her lips to yours.

His kiss is meticulous and long. At the same time he studies and absorbs every sensation, flavor.

As he walks away, he says something in a whisper only to himself.

"So interesting.."

The Skinner Man

The place: A cramped, dark and almost claustrophobic place. Where he can't hear anything but the sound of your breathing.

He chases you until he corners you in a place with no way out. It messes with your mind leaving you in a panic.

The only way out is now closed by the tall, intimidating figure of Skinner Man.

He walks towards you so slowly, almost as if cornering small prey, rather causing fear.

"You're afraid of me but you also want this."

He has fun until he finally corners you for good, your back against the cold wall.

When he finally kisses you, Skinner is fierce and possessive. He bites your lip at the beginning and during your kiss. He growls lowly.

He moves away more slowly than when he approached. He still tastes you.

"You'll never escape."

Eddie Gluskin

The place: In a room decorated by him, with flowers and candlelight.

Eddie would prepare a perfect whole day. Full of dedications and romantic things.

He waits with you calmly until night comes. So, he holds your hand so delicately as if he could break you with a simple touch.

He takes you to the room he prepared himself. The romantic and comfortable environment makes it a giant contrast with the rest of the door outside.

He holds your hands, bringing them so close to his face.

"Oh, my darling....you know how much I love you."

He kisses your hands before moving on to kiss your lips.

His kiss is intense and needy, as if he's been waiting his whole life for this.

When he pulls away, his eyes are gleaming with complete adoration.

Richard Tranger

The place: Inside your laboratory, in the middle of the chaos happening.

Amidst the screams of sick and distraught patients running desperately through the corridors.

You're sitting on a gurney stained with fresh and not fresh blood, blood that you know Richard caused.

Richard is standing right between her legs, his fingers lifting her chin so she looks at him.

"Ah, sweetie...this shouldn't be happening...but I can't resist."

He really can't resist.

He practically pulls your face to kiss you. He kisses you with desire and fun, his lips taste like danger, as if it should never happen.

When Richard pulls away, he laughs and runs his fingers along his wet lips.

"I hope you're prepared for more of this."

Frank Manera

The place: With you pressed tightly against a wall. In the middle of a jealous rage.

Frank is completely sick in the head and he knows it and so do you. From the first moment he saw you, you were already his without even knowing it or being able to do anything about it.

Frank doesn't let anyone get close to you, but always someone crazy enough to dare to challenge him.

As soon as he sees that sick man touch you, Frank chases him until he manages to open that bastard's body and has eaten his heart.

Frank immediately goes to meet you, pressing your body tightly against the wall while pinning your arms.

"You are mine!"

He growls almost like a scream then attacks his lips, staining his mouth with blood from his recent fatal victim.

His kiss tastes like blood but it's intense and rough like it's going to devour you right there.

When he pulls away, Frank holds his face in his sick, possessive way.

"Never let anyone touch you, understand?!"

Val

The place: Inside a torchlit cave, surrounded by strange writing.

In your own dreams, the voice in your mind had already spoken about you which makes Val even more excited about you.

Val will tell his faithful heretical followers about you. She kidnaps you and takes you to a cave.

When you wake up you are lying on the floor and in the center of that place with Val's heretics surrounding you while she is right next to you.

Val holds your face as if you were some deity, his eyes fervent with devotion on you.

"You were the chosen one, my blessing....your body is sacred."

Val kisses you.

Your kiss is deep and intense, as if you were making a deal with the evil one himself.

She entwines her fingers in the strands of your hair, almost trapping you.

When he pulls away, Val runs his fingers across his lips, smiling.

"Now, you belong to the new age."

Marta

The place: In the middle of the village under the moonlight.

You will be alone in the village. All the inhabitants dare not approach Marta's patrolling territory.

Marta sees you as a divine gift but also as something that must be purified by her.

Marta chases you like the agile predator she is, with her "weapon" always in her hand.

She looks at you with a mixture of love and internal conflict.

"You tell me to resist...but I am weak."

His lip seal is intense, sloppy and almost rough, as if he's afraid to let go of you.

She lets out small murmurs during the kiss, the division between pleasure and guilt.

When Marta moves away, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, as if she were fighting the war of sensations and feelings within herself.

"May God have mercy on me..."

Father Martin

The place: Inside the church where it considers sacred.

Martin faithfully believes that you were sent by God himself as a gift of his devout faith.

Martin will draw you to what he considers to be a sacred center. He holds your hands, looking into your eyes adoringly.

"You are a blessing...and I am unworthy of having you."

He fights against himself but when he gives in, his kiss is soft and devout, as if kissing something holy and sacred.

Martin pulls away, taking a deep breath.

"Was this a sin? Or a revelation?"

Chris Walker

The place: In a hallway after an intense fight and chase.

Chris can end up being a little paranoid and jealous, which can cause a lot of disagreements between you.

After another heated fight, you run away from Chris while he chases you until he corners you.

"I don't want to hurt you." He mutters with regret.

But when he touches her face, he completely loses control and takes over her lips.

The kiss is strong and desperate as if fighting against itself.

When Chris pulls away his eyes are teary and he pulls you into a tight hug.

The Twins

The place: In a dark corridor inside the asylum.

The twins surround you from front and back. Their cold breaths around your body.

"Beautiful..."

One of the twins mutters.

"Do you want a gift?"

The other twin responds.

When they finally kiss you it's a triple, overwhelming kiss.

While one of them kisses you slowly and seductively, the other brushes his lips all over your neck, whispering dirty words.

They take turns. They laugh when you run out of breath.

"Now you have two to love you...forever."

Walrider

The place: In a dark and isolated place, where all that can be heard are the sounds of choppy winds.

Walrider has been chasing you since the first moment he saw you. You never see him but you feel something paranormal when he's around.

Your body shivers, a warm energy envelops your body, touching your lips like a whisper.

The kiss is not physical but it can be felt as something that can invade your soul.

Walrider's voice whispers in his mind.

"You belong to me...now and forever."

Loutermilch

The place: In a closed place where he can exercise full control over you.

Loutermilch touches his chin, bringing him so he can look into his eyes.

"You love me, don't you?" He smiles, waiting for your response of submission.

His kiss is slow and calculated, a perfect game of domination.

He holds the back of your neck firmly, as if he wants to mark you as property.

"Good girl."

Jeremy Blaire

The place: In a luxurious office far from the dangers of murkoff.

He approaches with his charming and fake way. Smiling charmingly while leaning back against your desk.

"You know you can trust me, right?"

He kisses you. At first it was fake and rehearsed because Jeremy wanted to manipulate you but something changes as the kiss continues.

Real emotion arises then his hand reaches down and squeezes your waist before he releases your lips.

"It shouldn't mean anything..."

He falters.

Sullivan Knoth

The place: In the church, at the altar surrounded by his followers.

Sullivan holds his hands tightly. His eyes filled with his unshakable faith.

"You brought us together, my beloved."

His kiss is sloppy and theatrical, like a sacred ritual being performed.

Sullivan whispers prayers against your wet lips, as if he wants to bless you.

When you walk away, Sullivan's followers murmur together in approval.

"Now we are one, in the eyes of God."

Waylor Park

The place: In a safe place where only he knows.

After you went through so much torment together, finally Waylor manages to take you to a "calm" and peaceful place.

Waylor caresses your face, as if you were his hope. His eyes full of love and vulnerability.

"I almost lost you..."

He murmurs holding you tight.

His kiss is soft and sweet, full of mixed emotions.

When he pulls away, he rests his own forehead against yours.

"I don't know what I would do without you."

Miles Upshur

The place: In an improvised hideout after an intense escape.

You are both panting, dirty and hurt. Miles looks into his eyes only to see fear written in them.

"We'll get out of this..." He promises.

And then in a thoughtless movement, he moves forward and kisses your lips intensely while holding your face as if this were your last moment together.

Your kiss has adrenaline, of despair and hope.

When he walks away, Miles smirks.

"That was much better than a newspaper report."

Rudolf Wernicke

The place: In a silent laboratory.

Rudolf holds your hand, his old, wrinkled fingers intertwined between your soft, young ones.

He doubts whether he really deserves this moment.

"I've lived a lot...but I've never experienced anything like this."

His kiss is long and almost hesitant but full of emotions.

When he walks away, his eyes have a nostalgic glow.

"If I were young...I would give you the world."

[willowlevulett]

Punk Divorce Era Jayvik teaser.

This AU slams Jayce and Viktor into my particular taste of West Coast punk. A teeny tiny Jayvik interaction plus some angst.

Vi is one of my favorite characters, so I also added an excerpt that I have written of Jayce and her. I think they would've been lovely friends so that will be reflected in this fic.

-

"What happened to your leg, Jayce." It was unfair of him to keep saying his name. Especially like that, saying it like he always used to.

"I fell."

"You fell." Viktor says the words as if tasting them, 'fell' rolling around on his tongue.

"Yes, fell. My altitude rapidly changed. An unconsented descent" Jayce brings up his hand above his head and gestures sharply downwards to belabor his point. He realizes too late that he's trying to get Viktor to laugh, like he used to. To get Viktor to scoff at any old ridiculous thing Jayce was doing at the time, his eyes alight with a smile all the same. But it's all wrong. It's been 5 years since they've seen each other, his tone is too harsh, and Viktor only looks annoyed.

The corspe of who Jayce once was rolls over in its grave. The man who survived stares hollowly forward.

-

Viktor is visibly trying to reign his emotions in. Jayce bets that the temptation of learning what happened to crack him down the center is enough to stay his tongue. For now.

Jayce takes the opportunity to drink him in. People like them tend to change visually faster than others, so he catalogs all the ways Viktor now differs from his memory of him. He has an eyebrow piercing on top of the new throat tattoo. Jayce can see the same tattoo lines that cover his back now lick up and over his shoulders. He now wears simple smoked out eyeliner. His clothes are still earthy tones with a splash of red but he now wears purple. It weaves through his outfit. A little in the bandana tucked in his back pocket. A lot in the array of earrings and rings that decorate him. Some in the eye shadow he smoked out his water line with.

He wants to say that Viktor looks good. Jayce stays silent.

-

Before he can reach the blessed front door, a hand grips his shoulder and yanks him to a stop.

"Viktor, I can't -"

"What are you doing here, pretty boy?"

The playful blue of Vi's eyes comes into view instead of the heated gold he expected.

"Oh god, Vi" He pulls her in for a brisk, tight hug. He can feel her muscles tense under her leather jacket. He takes a moment to inspect her face. She has a new scar just under her eye, cutting across the roman numerals there. There's three more piercings tucked into her left ear. She's favoring her left side like she always has, but it's not any worse than last he saw her.

"You look good."

"Ah, you're looking pretty good yourself. The haunted look, suits you. Rugged." She emphasizes the last word by planting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a small, rough shake. One of her hands then moves to tug on the long hair that hangs over his forehead now.

"The old you would've fucking hated this."

Jayce huffs a laugh. "That's the point."

Vi gives him a strange look at that. She simply stares at him for a long moment, the pulsing music of the grungy punk band on stage washing over them both. Whatever she finds in his eyes in the low light makes her scrunch her nose. Before Jayce can offer a platitude, she pulls him forward into another hug, this time threading her strong hand into the locks at the nape of his neck.

They figured out early on in their friendship that they both craved touch beyond normal people required. When he was younger, Jayce couldn't help himself. He would reach out and clasp his hands on shoulders, lean down into someone's space while they talked, drag his hand down their arm while pulling away from a hug. Vi on the other hand, tends to suffer in silence. Every part of her begs for touch, but she only touches those who work for it. But once you've earned it, once the dam is broken, you are awash with the joy that is Vi's sturdy touch.

He realizes all at once he has missed her terribly. He collapses into her arms and buries his head into her shoulder. She still smells like motor oil and cigarette smoke. He can feel a rumble of her saying something where their chests touch but he can't hear it over his desperate attempt to not burst into tears and the crashing crescendo of the music. He pulls away before this can get much worse for him.

[isitmywriting]

When another nightmare plagues Bucky's dreams, he seeks out comfort from the one person he knows won't judge him.

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Jaw clenched and brows furrowed as sweat started to bead at his hairline, he had only been asleep for an hour before the nightmares started plaguing his dream. A sweet dream of his life before the war. Before HYDRA, he dreamt of his parents and sister, although it had been so long since he last seen his family and with the photos being lost to the war and time he had started to forget the faces of his loved ones, but the still familiar sound of his sisters laugh filled his dream, he was almost at peace when the dream started to turn sour. His sisters laugh turned to blood curdling screams and in a blink he was looking into the eyes of his terrified sister, metal appendage adorned his sisters neck, army knife had been plunged into her side as her screams defend his ears. He willed himself to stop, to let her go, but he can't the same familiar words being whispered into his ear

"rusted"

"please stop"

"seventeen"

"please not her, anyone but her"

the voice continued as Bucky slowly plunges his knife into her side. Her cries stoped and her limp body fell into his arms. Before he could look at blood decorating his hands he awoke now drenched in his sweat, breathing heavy and ragged, swinging his legs over the side of his bed he sat for a minuet head in his hands, trying to get his breathing under control. Flashes of his nightmare coming back to him with every blink he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon. With a heavy sigh he stands and starts his search for the one person he knew and trusted he could seek comfort form.

Bare feet travel down the empty halls of the compound, after discovering her room empty he knew he'd find her in the kitchen, she often found herself unable to sleep at times, dreams also often plagued with nightmares twisted into happy memories. In the kitchen she was, leaning against the island mug in hand as she watched the oven.

"whatcha baking this time

Being completely in her own world she missed the sound of Bucky's light footsteps approaching the kitchen, jumping slightly at his voice she turned to face him, soft smile adorned her face a knowing look in her eyes

"nightmares again"

Her voice as gentle as ever, Bucky took small steps to meet her at the island, with a deep sigh his eyes met hers

"what gave it away"

"you just have that look on your face is all, and your eyes, they always look so..so sad whenever you have a nightmare"

Bucky didn't say anything as he looked away from her, moving over to the counter to make himself a cup of coffee

"do you wanna talk about it"

"no not really"

"yeah I figured as much, you never do"

She walked towards him placing a small hand on his back, rubbing small yet soothing circles on his back, he turned around to face her bringing her in closer so her head was now pressed against his chest, hearing the soft beating of his heart she let out a content sigh. They stood there for a moment before the over alerting the two that the contents had finished baking. He watched as she removed the contents from the oven

"you know you can talk to me about anything right, you don't have to keep things bottled up its not good for you believe it or not"

Letting out a laugh, the kind she loved to hear, he leant over attempting to steal a cookie from the tray, receiving a small tap on the back of his hand as warning

"Buck we go over this every time, you need to wait for them to cool"

A small laugh followed the scoulding

"yeah I know, I know. and I don't keep things bottled up my dairy gets an ear full"

The two bursting laughter both knowing Bucky does not in fact keep a dairy because if he did sam would most definitely find out about it and would not lave him alone about it. The two fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments until she spoke up again

"dance with me"

Confused Bucky looks at her with a look that told her shed need to repeat herself, so with a smile on her, one that made his heart swell, she took his hand and repeated

"dance with me"

"there's no music playing"

"you don't need music to dance Buck"

She pulled him into her placing his hand on her hips, she wrapped her arms around her neck and they started to sway to sound of soft heartbeats. In that moment with her arms wrapped around him, head resting on his chest, he felt at peace, his mind was no long filled with the images of his sister, nor much of anything, the only thing on his mind at that moment was her, her touch, her smell, her smile. The way she took away his pain by simply looking his way. In that moment he knew she was his safe place, he had found someone he could truly trust and let in. He had found his peace

"thank you"

Confused she looked up at him

"for what"

"for everything"

And with that the two slip into a comfortable silence swaying around the kitchen, small smiles danced across their faces.

Notes:

Please be kind, I'm new to writing and have a long way to go before anything I post could be considered good lol

I do hope my first fic is somewhat readable and that someone can find some enjoyment in it

[mattslilies]

✩ surprising matt on tour ✩

or: the one where you tell matt you miss him and can't wait for him to come home from tour, only to show up on the barricade of the next show <3

warnings: none! just fluff

divider credit: @/strangergraphics

your boyfriend being on tour was bittersweet. you were obviously incredibly proud of him, but at the same time, him being away for months at a time took a toll on you.

your relationship wasn't suffering from it, if anything, it was only strengthened, but you definitely still missed him. you loved seeing all the photos from the different cities along the tour, and you loved watching the friendly conversation and banter that all three triplets had with the crowd, but you did wish that you could see your boyfriend again.

texts, phone, and facetime calls could only do so much, and you could tell that matt was starting to get not only homesick, but missing you a lot as well. being a very touchy and clingy person, being away for a while bothered him too.

so, you hatched a plan.

the next stop on the tour was coming up, and it was only one state line away from you. you didn't have to work that day, so you looked into buying a ticket. you didn't tell matt about any of your plan, wanting to surprise him.

after a long phone call with nick while he was out getting food, everything was set up. you'd get to the show at the time that doors opened, and nick would make sure that you got in a little bit early, so you could be on the barricade when they came out onto the stage.

keeping the secret from matt was difficult, as you talked on the phone practically every night. you were bubbling with excitement, but had to pretend that it was about getting lunch with a friend the next day, not surprising him instead.

the drive to the venue was fun, as you had a lot of music to listen to, and you were so ready to see not just matt, but also chris and nick again. they were your best friends, and you had missed them all greatly in the past weeks.

meeting nick around the back of the venue, you smiled when you saw him leave out the back door.

"hey!"

he engulfed you in a hug, having clearly missed you.

"hey! it's great to see you guys!"

nick smiled, walking back inside, you following behind him.

"it hasn't been that long."

you raised an eyebrow, enjoying the gentle banter.

"didn't you just say that you missed me sooooo much on the phone yesterday? or was that just me hearing things again?"

laughter was heard from both of you, an easy conversation flowing as nick led you to where you needed to be.

"everyone inside has already done the VIP Meet and Greet with us, and they're in line to walk in. i probably shouldn't get you to the very front, i don't wanna draw too much attention to you, but i can get you close enough that you'll be close to the stage."

thanking him and wishing him good luck before saying goodbye, you stepped into line about fifteen people deep. sure enough, you were right in the front row.

it didn't take very long for the rest of the people to fill in, and the lights to dim, with the neon "Let's Trip" logo projected onto the stage. you couldn't wait.

the look on matt's face when he stepped out onto the stage and noticed you directly in the middle was priceless. he was stuck between a jaw drop and a smile, meaning his face was a wide grin.

he walked over to you almost immediately, leaning over.

"how did you get here?!"

you smiled, yelling back over the screams of the audience.

"i have my ways."

he shook his head, a huge smile still decorating his lips, before reaching a hand down to do the heart pose from the Meet and Greet photos with you.

despite the audience behind you, the amount that he had missed you and the joy of you being there overpowered him, and he kneeled down to face level, kissing you in front of the entire venue.

people reacted exactly how you would expect, a lot of yelling, but it was all white noise to you.

when he finally pulled back, standing up, he couldn't wipe the happiness off of his face, and it radiated throughout the rest of the show.

taglist <3

@courta13 @quinnynation @bowsandsturniolos @mqroonsturn @emely9274 @lizzyzzn @mattsbows @mattybsgroupie @sophand4n4 @leah-sturniolo @wr1tingsonthewall @sturns-mermaid @immaqulate @sweetshuga @user1smvtysturniolo @adoremattsturns @55sturn @chrisissobabygirl @backwardshatnick @jadest0ne

if you would like to be added to my taglist, click here!

[thiccpersonality]

To Be With You In The Morning Is My Favorite Tradition

This was the fic I wanted to post on Bruce's Birthday, but due to me being disheartened about losing half of my progress on the story from the phone glitching, I decided I would post this on my Birthday (which is today!)

If you'd like to go support my other two stories in this series liking or reposting, that'd be appreciated! But even if not, that's perfectly okay! Anyhow, here they are: 5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him) and The Difficulties of The Working Class (Just Clark Kent): A Beautiful Omega, His Pups and The Fact He Wants Both

This story is-for some reason-so incredibly mushy at a lot of points that I think it made me sick 😂.

Also, a very Happy Birthday to anyone else who shares March 1st as a B-day too! Eat good food and have fun! You darlings deserve it.

Anywho, without further ado; the story. Enjoy! 💛

Birthdays are like a special holiday in the Wayne-Kent household–mainly for Bruce and Clark's kids–it's as if something takes ahold of the omega whenever one of their babies Birthdays are near and all he can do is plan accordingly. I mean, it's a day to celebrate (with very good reason) the lives of all his children, so sue him for decorating almost every room in the house with the best decorations.

He is just glad for his husband, Clark, and his superspeed coming in handy. The rooms get decorated faster that way.

Anywho, Birthdays are a very special and beloved occasion in the Wayne-Kent household, a day for both the alpha and omega to lavish their children with gifts, kisses and love, while reminiscing on the days when the kids were smaller and more big eyed towards everything.

Birthdays are a treasured thing by Bruce Thomas Wayne, especially as he has a reason to feel excited for them again, the familiar feeling of excited fluttering happening in his stomach as the days leading up to his kids, dad's or husband's Birthday draws closer and closer. All from the joy of imagining their reactions to his carefully thought out decoration plans and the moment they unwrap every perfectly wrapped present.

I know I keep saying it, but Birthdays are like a national treasure in Bruce's home.

However, the issue is how the stubborn omega becomes disinterested whenever his special day draws near, as though his Birthday is somehow less important than anyone else's just because it's him. And the more annoying aspect of that behavior for the family is how Bruce never means it in a negative way...even if once upon a time he did, he's admitted that he doesn't feel as depressed and unhappy whenever the day rolls around like how he used to as a child or teenager.

Clark and the kids have asked Bruce repeatedly what the reasons are for his disinterest, just to make sure that the omega remains as happy as possible as his Birthday nears, because if anyone deserves to feel such joy, it's Bruce.

But, the man just smiles softly whenever they ask, because he knows the reasons as to why they are questioning him, and just explains with the same answer: I'm married and have kids now. An answer that Clark doesn't completely understand, but then again, he acts like a hyperactive toddler whenever the days draw nearer to his special day, bugging his wife about what his theme is that year and what are his gifts and whining loudly whenever he can't find the presents the man hid from him. The alpha just doesn't fully understand Bruce's reasoning. I mean, he's an adult (doubtful), as well as a mature (mhm) alpha and a father as well, and he still feels antsy with anticipation whenever his Birthday rolls around.

No matter though, Clark and the rest of the family always decorate just as much for Bruce as he does for them, the gifts heartfelt and usually handmade by the kids (or else he wouldn't be as excited for the gifts). And yes, they continue to buy things for him even though nine out of ten of most his gifts are immediately on display as decoration for no one else but Bruce's eyes.

But if you were to ask Bruce what his favorite part of his Birthday day was, the answer would be-after listing a billion reasons having to do with the kids-his and Clark's morning ritual of waking up way before anyone else in the house (especially the twins) to just simply bask in one another's presence. Its one of the omega's most favorite moments: to wake up to the gentle nosing at his neck by Clark and the man's incredibly soft, deep voice rumble out a, 'Happy Birthday', to him.

Even if Bruce doesn't show the same enthusiasm for his special holiday like when he was a kid, he still finds his heart fluttering in excitement and love when his family bombard him with lots of hugs and kisses.

Like today: February 19th, Bruce Wayne's Birthday.

The sun has barely begun to peak over the horizon, the sky lightening from a deep, midnight blue to something still dark-yet light toned-at the same time, in preparation for the impending sunrise.

Clark smiles down at Bruce and gently nuzzles the omega's neck, his left arm draped over the curve of the other's waist while he props himself up on his right elbow, his deep blue eyes fondly watching as the shorter male scrunches up his nose cutely at the feeling of the alpha tickling his neck with his lips. "Bruce." Clark's voice rumbles soothingly in the omega's ear, the older placing a soft kiss to the exposed shoulder and hiding his smile in the warmth of his wife's neck. "Baby, s'time to get up. It's your Birthday." Bruce hums low in his throat, his eyes bleary as he cracks them open only to see the darkness of the room, a small yawn escaping him as his body extends into a stretch. "Mm..." He grunts softly from the way his muscles tense momentarily from the force of his sleep rested muscles suddenly extending, before relaxing against the fluff of his pillow with a soft sigh, his icy blue eyes looking up and over to where he knows Clark's face is. "Alpha."

Bruce can practically feel the smile he knows is being directed down his way, his ears tingling at the sound of happy alpha filling the quietness of their bedroom.

"Stupid alpha."

Nevermind, moment ruined.

Clark stops his pleased rumbles in favor of whining pitifully at whatever he did, "What did I do? You always ask me to wake you up every year, even when I feel guilty for doing so."

Bruce huffs a soft, sleepy laugh and pinches at the Kryptonian's cheek, "That's not why you're stupid."

Said stupid alpha responds to the comment by squeezing the omega closely to his body, carefully pinning the shorter underneath his comfortingly heavy weight as he mutters pitifully in the man's ear. "Then why doesn't my omega tell me why I'm stupid so that I can fix it." Bruce can't help his giggle at the ticklish puffs of air against his ear, his hand raising up to gently brush back Clark's curls. "You'll always be a stupid alpha-" he yelps at the teeth playfully digging into his earlobe for the accusation, a sigh of defeat escaping him as he concedes to the reprimand and gently wraps his arms around Clark-"but you're my stupid alpha."

The man hums appreciatively against Bruce's throat before licking apologetically at the now pink lobe. "The actual reason you are stupid is because you didn't turn the lamp on so I could see your face."

Clark stops his licking to prop himself up above Bruce, a beaming smile on his face as he stares down at the omega. "You wanna see my face first thing in the morning, baby?" Being able to make out the omega's blush despite it still being dark in the room is truly a blessing, thank Rao for his superpowers. Bruce huffs again in displeasure at the disgustingly happy smile he can sense Clark is giving him...and from the fact he can't see the alpha, but the stupid alpha can see him. "O-Of course I do...you're beautiful always, so why wouldn't I want to see you?" Clark smiles fondly down at Bruce for the timid remark, momentarily leaving the other's side to flick on their bedside lamp, both squinting against the soft glow of the light.

"Hi." Clark whispers as he settles on top of Bruce once more, his thumb caressing his mates pink cheek tenderly.

Bruce looks up at Clark with a soft look in his eyes, his breath hitching at how handsome his husband is. "Why do you never look like you slept?" He sighs wistfully as he looks at the ever perfect hair, as though he is imagining waking up in the morning looking just as put together as his alpha does.

"Really? No good morning or anything?" 

Bruce looks away from the dark curls and finally makes eye contact with his mate, a small smile gracing his face as he softly greets the taller. "Hi and good morning, Clark." Clark is soft for Bruce, he really and truly is, to the point where it seems overwhelming. The alpha returns the smile and whispers, "I'm going to kiss you now." Waiting for his mate to nod his head before he lowers his head and gently presses his lips to the omega's, smiling into the kiss when hearing the satisfied hum from the other and softly licking at his mate's lips carefully for permission to enter, rumbling in satisfaction when the omega opens up for him. Bruce feels overtaken with warmth as he kisses Clark; that's the way it always goes. The omega purrs contentedly as he kisses his husband, his arms wrapping around the alpha's neck when the man slowly deepens the kiss by licking into his mouth, his chest rising to meet Clark's as his back arches instinctively at the other's long tongue brushing against that one sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth. "C-Clark."

Bruce whines softly against the warm tongue, his heart fluttering at the possessive growl coming from Clark, the others warm, earthy scent turning to something deliciously smokey and heated as he nips at the omega's pink lips. 

"Bruce-" a suck of the tongue-" my omega-" a soft peck to plump lips-"my wife-" a deep, possessive growl as canines bite none to gently at the trembling mouth-"my mate." Clark whispers almost reverently against the sharp lines of Bruce's jaw as he trails a burning path of kisses down the omega's jaw and to his beautiful neck, biting at the mating mark and groaning softly at the pheromones released from the sensitive gland. "Rao, baby, you can't do this to me." Bruce squawks indignantly and weakly slaps at his alpha's shoulder, "W-What are you talking about?! I'm just sitting here and doing nothing–" the way Clark looks at him makes the omega pause, that godforsaken blush returning to his face as he forces down the urge to squirm away from the heated gaze–"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Clark gives Bruce an appraising look before nipping at his oblivious omega's nose, his voice laced with something heated yet soft as he looks down at the other and says: "You're the oblivious to my stupid, y'know that?"

The alpha only has point five milliseconds to explain/defend himself before Bruce starts trying to kill him, he hates any sort of implications that he doesn't know about something...even when sometimes said implications are true. 

Bruce-once what the alpha said catches up to his kiss melted brain-narrows his eyes warningly at his very stupid husband, his mouth opening to complain and argue about what Clark even means, when suddenly the dumb alpha overtakes his mouth once again with a self-satisfied smile. As though he knew exactly what the omega was thinking and decided to stop him before he could even say it. Bruce tries to fight against the surprise attack, but it's hard to when the alpha growls low in the back of his throat as he struggles around, the taller forcefully pushing his wife back down on the bed and wrapping the omega up in his arms when he arches too far away from him.

And if Clark is soft for a sleep addled Bruce (and just the omega in general) to the point of feeling overwhelmed. Then Bruce with a very forward and demanding Clark (and the alpha and who he is in general) is beyond overwhelmed.

And curse the alpha for knowing that and using it against him.

Clark smiles smug against the kiss bitten lips of his mate, tugging at the pink flesh for a moment before releasing the muscle with a soft hum. "You gon' let me explain?"

Ugh! That Midwestern lilt Clark can have in his voice is so darn charming. The alpha knows that and is once again using it against Bruce.

To reiterate: curse the alpha for knowing that and using it against him.

Bruce narrows his eyes in an attempt to show his displeasure, even though his body betrays said attempt by relaxing into the warmth of Clark's arms circling his body. A soft noise escapes the omega when his alpha just smiles knowingly down at him and kisses the tip of his nose softly. "You are oblivious because you seem to not truly understand the effect that you have on me-" Clark trails the gentle kiss to Bruce's nose down to his mates kiss bitten lips-"All you need to do is sit there for me to want to do anything for you. All you need to do for me to want to move the world is simply look at me and I would do it all."

The alpha's gaze suddenly returns to a heated look while he nips at the omega's chin, trailing a heated path of messy kisses from the delicate chin down to the pale, elegant neck.

"You don't even know how much you turn me on by just simply existing, sweetheart-" Clark's nostrils flare at the burst of pheromones Bruce releases because of the pet name, a low growl escaping him as he licks at his omega's neck-"when you let me do anything and everything for you." The alpha trails his kisses back up to Bruce's ear, his voice deep and seductive as he whispers. "You are always doing so much for the family and the world around you. Always moving, always acting, always doing absolutely anything to make sure people want for nothing, but what about you, sweetheart? What about my omega? What about my wife? What about my mate?"

Bruce squirms underneath Clark's heavy body, a soft whine escaping him at the tongue sucking on his earlobe, his arms wrapping around the alpha to keep him close.

"Y-You take care of me, alpha."

Clark's grin is all pride at Bruce's quiet confession, a low rumble of affection filling the room as he presses the omega into the mattress, as though he's completely trying to cover him from the outside world. "That's exactly right, baby, your alpha takes good care of you in a way I know no other alpha has before–you've told me as much, hm?" Bruce nods his head obediently, not even sure if the alpha meant it as an actual question or not, but answering anyway. "That's right. I take care of you because you chose me, and I can only thank you everyday for that honor, cause you-" a tender kiss is placed on Bruce's lips-"deserve the world and more. I love the way you sit back and allow me to do the heavy lifting when it's needed."

Clark groans and tightens his hands carefully around the omega's hips, "You are always so strong, and yet you sit back and let me protect you and the kids, you allow me to love every single one of you with all my breath."

Bruce doesn't know whether he's extremely turned on right now or falling absolutely in love all over again?

Both could be absolutely possible, but his body is going through this weird push and pull of feeling hot with pleasure and warm with fondness for Clark.

The omega's eyelashes flutter as he watches his mate slowly-gosh, every so slowly-roll his hips into the plush of his backside, a surprised gasp escaping him when the taller leans into his ear to whisper once more. "I love seeing you sit back and take it all from me: my love, my affection, my protection-" midnight blue eyes somehow darken even more as Clark thrusts his hips suddenly against Bruce's-"my pleasure. You always look so pretty when you lie back and take it all." Bruce feels his body trembling, a whine escaping him when Clark gives him that charming smile, his body reacting to the touch of self-satisfaction hidden within the smirk as the alpha deals the final blow. "Like such a good wife." Bruce gasps and feels his eyes water automatically from the words, from the overwhelming heat consuming him inside and out, his hands raising to try and cover his red face when Clark stares at him for too long. 

"W-What-" he stutters and grips at Clark's broad shoulders tightly-"I thought you...you were just complimenting me so innocently."

Clark chuckles and Eskimo kisses his omega, continuing to give his mate emotional whiplash from the two different sides he's showing. "I was-" a loving kiss to the other's forehead-"and I meant every word about how it's an honor and even a privilege to be able to love you in all the ways I've ever wanted to, and in the ways you deserve. But, it's also an honor to see you be good for me when we're alone, just the two of us, and it's also a pleasure to see you exactly like how you are right now: pretty and pink underneath me."

Bruce blushes (again) and slaps weakly at the older man's shoulder, "I married a monster-"

"No. You married an alien."

Bruce furrows his brows at the interruption and swats at the back of his mates head, "Shut it. Depending on who you ask, it's the same difference. The point is, I married an alien who's actually just a monster in disguise and no one would ever believe me if I told them that." Clark snorts playfully, "No. They wouldn't believe you because Bruce Wayne isn't married to an alien, he's married to a kind-hearted, mild mannered reporter from Kansas. Do you really want to be seen as insane? You come from Gotham, I think that's enough evidence to get you booked, so stop adding onto the list."

The alpha laughs at Bruce's displeased grumbling, accepting the slaps the other assaults him with with a toothy smile, crooning softly towards his mate when the other pauses and reddens from the smirk.

"You leave Gotham out of this, Kent. Don't you even get me started on Metropolis. And I don't care if I look insane, I'm used to seeing people say anything and everything about me...whether I'm Bruce Wayne or Batman. Plus, when I was younger I think the mental breakdowns I went through constantly didn't help my reputation either, so I'm pretty sure that some people still remember that and think I'm crazy."

Clark looks at Bruce in concern, "That...sounds horrible. I didn't know there were articles of you that young-" he pauses thoughtfully before asking-"just...just how old were you then?"

Asking questions like this can always go one or two ways: 1. Very good or 2. Not so good, there is hardly ever an in-between with these kinds of things. Especially as Bruce hardly likes recalling his childhood...and Clark doesn't wish to make the omega feel horrible on today of all days, but he can't help his curiosity and can only hope his mate will be comfortable enough to share more of his past with him.

Maybe it's the fact that it's his Birthday or maybe it's the snuggles and pheromones relaxing Bruce? 

But, all he does is frown slightly in thought towards the question. "Hm? I was only thirteen at the time...that was the age I officially tried to insert myself back into the media, but it turned out I actually wasn't quite as ready for it as I had expected-" he smiles awkwardly up at his husband-"As usual, I pushed myself a little too hard and got overwhelmed really quickly, it was really bad the first time and made Alfred really mad. Alfie really put work into making sure those articles released about me over the years were never heard of or talked about ever again. To this day, I still don't know how he managed to achieve that, and it's something he's never willing to tell me."

Clark relaxes at hearing what Alfred did, a happy smile overtaking the worry as he kisses Bruce's cheek, his voice a pleased rumble when he speaks. "I bet he killed them all."

Bruce chokes on his spit in surprise, his hand raising to check Clark's temperature in mock worry. "Who are you and what have you done with my mate? You are a hero, Clark...you shouldn't wish for the death of any innocent people." He can't help the giggle that escapes him when Clark playfully snaps his teeth at him, as though he's going bite him. "You said it yourself that you married a monster. Maybe it's my inner beast coming out? And I am a hero, that's why it sucks sometimes, because I'm not supposed to wish any harm to come to anyone-even the bad guys-even when I really want to. Those 'reporters' who said what they did about you are absolutely not innocent, they are predators who took advantage of someone who was in pain just for a good story, and that someone was my beloved who would grow to become the bestest omega, mother, wife and mate to ever exist."

Bruce doesn't even know how he manages to keep blushing, it should be impossible right now, but leave it to Superman to achieve the possible from the most hopeless of things.

"Stop it, Clark-" Bruce mutters bashfully-"I wouldn't say that I'm the best at it...but I try my hardest to be as great as I can in those roles." Clark nods to show he's listening before biting the omega's shoulder, smiling innocently when his mate protests. "That's for speaking negatively about yourself. And I'm sorry, baby, but we can't accept the wrong opinions at this point and time, so when you are actually right, come try again."

Bruce huffs and tries to hold back his smile, resting back against the pillows as he hugs Clark close to his chest.

The silence in the room is comfortable as Bruce strokes the alpha's curly hair carefully, the taller inhaling the scent of the omega deeply before exhaling in deep satisfaction from the smell alone, a long-suffering sigh escaping Clark as he nuzzles into the shorter man's chest. "I can still smell your arousal from earlier, B, s'clinging to you like a second skin. I don't know whether to be relaxed or turned on." Bruce chuckles softly and playfully tugs at the short hairs on the back of the alpha's neck, "That's your fault. You had to switch from innocent poetry to verbal p-o-r-n." Clark lifts his head up from the omega's endowed chest to raise a curious brow at him, "Why did you spell it out? It's only me and you."

Bruce rolls his eyes and pinches at Clark's nose for the dumb question, "The twins are in the nursery right next to us. We don't know what their cute, sensitive little ears can make out."

The alpha just smiles fondly at his mate, enjoying when the man acts like such a mother. "Honey...they are only eight-months-old, they can't even read and don't know what most words we say mean yet-" the glare his mate gives him causes Clark to backtrack immediately-"Of course, our kids aren't a stupid alpha like I am, so they are definitely way smarter than that and could probably understand what we are saying. I think you are right for being so careful about this, that's what I think."

Bruce purrs in contentment and nods his head, "Yes. Which is exactly why we can't just say everything in front of them, especially as our babies are learning to speak now, they'll be picking up what we say a lot more now than ever before."

Clark nods and hugs his omega close again, sighing wistfully into the other's neck, "Yeah...maybe I should have taken you on a vacation for your Birthday? That way we can say whatever we want and do whatever we want without cute, sensitive little ears hearing us. You aren't known for being the most quiet-ow!" Bruce sticks his tongue out at Clark when the alpha whines pitifully at being slapped, "You're being dramatic! I can't even hurt you like this. And I do know how to be quiet–" his cheeks redden at the way Clark looks at him, the man's dark stare saying 'oh really?'–"What?! I do know how to be quiet. Maybe it's you that makes all the noise."

The alpha just chuckles low in his throat and places a tender kiss to his mates pouty lips, "Defensiveness has never looked prettier-" he croons deeply-"Though that argument doesn't work, sweetheart, not when we got noise complaints at my crappy apartment. A crappy apartment with thin walls with-might I remind you-residents that already knew my name by then. I still remember when Mrs. Greta congratulated me for finally getting a mate–you remember that? She baked us some cookies and demanded I massage you for the rough treatment."

Bruce groans loudly in embarrassment, throwing his head back against the pillow. "That was such a horrible first meeting to all of your neighbors! I never wanted to show my face there again for my lack of decorum."

Clark smirks against the other's chest and places two loving kisses on his sternum, "But I like it when you de-decorum-ize." He smiles, pleased at the laugh he gets from Bruce for the made up word. "And if I'm not able to make you lose a bit of your etiquette with my–" he glances towards the nursery thoughtfully–"you know what buried deep inside of you, then I think I'm failing at my job." Bruce giggles and kisses the corner of his alpha's mouth in thanks, "You do care about the babies! And it's okay, Clark-" his icy blue eyes soften, that familiar pink coloring his cheeks as he looks down at the man through fluttering eyelashes-"I like losing my decorum for you."

Clark feels his breath being taken away at the sight of his lover, the soft glow of their lamp seeming to soften Bruce's face while also calling attention to the piercing glow of his brightly colored eyes.

The omega watches his mate humorously as the man loses control and smothers his face back into his chest with a loud, frustrated groan, a few fake sobs escaping him as he hugs Bruce close. "We should have totally went on a vacation for your Birthday! Then I wouldn't have to wait until night to get my hands on you." Bruce shakes his head fondly at the alpha's attitude while also grunting in disapproval, his fingers stroking across the alpha's head reassuringly. "You wouldn't dare. I love being with all of my family during special days like this and would hate to be separated from any one of them if I can help it. Especially the babies, they need me–need us right now, and I would hate to deprive them of our time together."

Clark sighs softly, "I know...but how much closer could they want to be with you? They incubated for eight to nine months inside of you. It was crowded, dark and I'm sure comfortable, they could learn to give you some free time with me."

Bruce's brows twitch as he tries not to laugh, unable to help the laughter that escapes his upturned lips anyway whenever Clark gets this way. He knows that the alpha isn't genuinely possessive over him, especially when their pups are involved, however, the man can feel a little put off whenever he feels he hasn't been able to spend an appropriate amount of time with his mate.  And as usual. The omega just hugs the man close and pats his back reassuringly, "But you are such a good father, Clark, so patient even when you feel frustrated. And you help me so much too when I need help and feel a bit overwhelmed as well. You know...one of the reasons I love spending my Birthdays and holidays here, is because you are such a good alpha, mate and husband. You make me feel so comfortable in a place I felt so alone in for such a long time, that now, all I want to do is make new memories here."

He smiles at Clark when the alpha looks at him, "Like this one. It's always nice to wake up beside you in our bed, not some random bed halfway across the world or in another state–but here, with you, in the house you turned into a home with me."

Clark's eyes crinkle at the corners from how hard he's smiling, his chest puffing out in pride at the knowledge of how relaxed and happy he's able to make his lover feel around him and around places he once used to not be so fond of. "Well...when you put it that way, I see what you mean. I've always wanted to have a family of my own...and you all are my everything now–this place is my everything. I don't think I'd want to be separated from it either. Even if it's just for a Birthday."

This is why Clark is so amazing to Bruce: he always understands what he means and how he feels.

And the omega knows that it's not just on a surface level, the alpha has gone through very similar losses and feelings of loneliness throughout most his life, in just the exact same way Bruce has felt the majority of his. It's just that they handled their loneliness and hardships very differently, with the omega being a touch more harsh around the edges when it comes to the people around him (except children of course), and Clark being in a weird limbo of wanting that connection with the people and world around him, yet never really feeling he fit in or related with those he interacted with.

They both grew up thinking they were or would be monsters in their own way.

Clark with his constant worrying he'd harm someone with his superpowers, always fearing a lack of self-control.

And Bruce, who always fretted about being a curse to anyone and everyone around him, thinking that all he would ever do was harm those around himself with a curse of death. I mean, it happened to his parents during one bad night, so why wouldn't it happen during another?

But both?

Both have strived for control out of their fears of never being in control. And all the years of patient and grueling training have payed off: they both ended up meeting one another due to a common goal; protect their cities and their world.

Clark often likes to say that fate is what led them to each other, that their similarities in losing their worlds in just one day and never wanting that to happen to anyone else, is what drew them together like moths to a flame.

While Bruce says it was just Clark playing kindergarten and trying to make friends that made them meet.

Or his ass.

He's not too picky about the answer. Just as long as it's not mushy and romantic like Clark's comment is.

Those kinds of responses always cause the omega's heart to flutter, because even if he won't admit it to anyone out loud, he is actually a little bit of a romanticist at heart; little romantic gestures make him swoon.

Too bad he doesn't know how to handle his own deep desires though, cause he always ends up saying something insulting or otherwise about what's going on. But luckily enough, Clark understands his mate well and just laughs it off, calling the shorter cute for the embarrassment (which he likes doesn't like).

Anywho...

Whether it's fate, good timing or an omega's ass that brought the two together, they are here with one another now. And that's all that matters to them both.

Bruce leans his head down to lightly kiss Clark's lips, his eyes squinting against the sunlight peaking through the crack of the closed curtains, a soft hum escaping him as he pulls away from the alpha. "I hadn't even realized it was sunrise already." Clark hums softly and glances at the clock, "Why is it already seven-thirty in the morning? I'm surprised none of the kids have woken us up yet."

It's as if the comment sparks a chain reaction as a soft gurgling sound comes from the babies nursery, another little sound being made right after the first one. "Neeeeever mind. The boys are up."

Bruce smiles up at the alpha and gently pushes at the larger man's chest hurriedly, "Get up. I want to see my babies."

The twins must be developing super hearing already, as one of them lets out a loud coo at hearing Bruce's voice and a small, "Ma...ma", is babbled. The omega just smiles wider at hearing the noises coming from the nursery, a loud purr escaping him as he coos back at the baby, "That's Damian."

Clark raises his brow, curious as to how Bruce can even tell the difference between the babbling baby voices.

"How do you even know that?"

Bruce looks at the alpha as though he's insane, "Because it's Damian. I don't know how to describe it...I just know it is."

Clark watches his mate sit up, a deep, overwhelming feeling of love overtaking him at the sight of the omega's sleep tousled hair, rumpled up night shirt and naturally pink lips upturned into a happy smirk at the sound of their pups.

"Bruce."

Clark whispers softly and smiles wider when the omega finally looks at him, leaning in and capturing the other's lips tenderly with his own, not allowing the shorter to voice his curiosity as to why his husband is staring so intently at him. "You're as radiant as the sun on a hot summer's day." He smiles against Bruce's lips before pulling away until they are touching forehead to forehead, his hand rising to cradle the omega's cheek in his hand. "And as gorgeous as a flowers first bloom in spring."

Bruce exhales shakily at the soft tone, his heart warming with a deep, all consuming affection as he shakily calls his alpha's name, "Clark."

The alpha just kisses the tip of Bruce's nose in response, a soft sigh escaping him as his thumb rubs back and forth on the other's soft skin of his cheek. "And the fact that you're all mine and I your's is as exciting as getting a present on Christmas Day."

Bruce flushes heavily at the words, butterflies wings lightly fluttering against his stomach as he whines in embarrassment and pushes at his husband's face, lifting their blanket up to hide his face and cover his reddening cheeks. "S-Shut up-" he stutters out, his ears twitching at the fussy garble coming from their babies, waving away Clark to the nursery while being thankful for the distraction-"Go get the twins. They are getting impatient waiting on us."

The taller just hums in pleasure at seeing his beloved mate so shy, floating over to the nursery door and cracking it open with a soft call to Damian and Jon.

Bruce exhales in relief when Clark finally disappears, lowering the blanket from his disheveled appearance and smoothing back his hair as he fixes the bed so the pups will be comfortable, taking his and the alpha's pillows and placing them at his sides in preparation to feed Damian and Jon. The omega finds himself pausing in his careful ministrations in favor of listening to his mate croon to the two boys, a fond sigh escaping him as the man talks to the boys as though they understand him, asking them how they slept and if it was a good one. A chuckle escapes Bruce when the soft moment is interrupted by the alpha fake scolding Damian for hitting at him suddenly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Clark appears in the doorway with the two pups cradled in his arms, a coo escaping him at the sight of the gurgling babies and a despondent alpha.

"What happened, poor baby."

"Damian attacked me suddenly." Clark answers at the same time Damian and Jon babble, the former twin shouting at his daddy's interruption and glaring at him.

Bruce giggles again, smile growing wider when Jon copies him with a cute laugh of his own, his chubby hands clapping together as his excitement overtakes him, "Mama." The omega purrs happily and extends his arms to the babies, happy and content pheromones escaping his neck glands at being called by his name. "Yes, honey, mama. Good boy, Jon. You're so smart already, yes you are." Clark sighs dramatically as his assault is brushed aside, walking forward and carefully handing off the boys to their mother, his own own pheromones betraying his pretend dramatics as he croons at seeing the pups snuggle up to Bruce. "Ma...ma."

Damian gurgles happily too, his big eyes staring expectantly up at Bruce, as though he's waiting for the same praise.

Bruce smiles down at both pups and kisses their fat faces, scenting the babies and tucking them in close as he praises them. "I didn't forget about you, Dami, you're a very smart boy too. So good at saying mama already, do you know how happy that makes me?"

It's as if they truly understand every word coming from the omega as they giggle and clap their small, fat hands (their favorite thing to do), cooing up at their mom as if they are holding a conversation with him. The bed dips suddenly and Clark is quickly scooting closer to the trio, a happy smile on his face as he croons softly for his pups attention and smiling when they look his way, a large finger pointing to himself in barely concealed excitement. "Very good, boys. Can you say, dada?"

Jon innocently eats his fist while glancing over at his twin while said twin just stares at their father surprisingly disinterested for a baby.

Clark doesn't give up though and keeps pointing at himself, "Say dada. You got it boys."

Damian smacks at Bruce's arm, looking up at his mom and back to his dad before keeping his stare on the omega, a wide smile gracing the round face as he coos. "Mama."

Bruce squeals at how much more smoothly his baby said his name this time around, hugging the babies close and kissing them again. "Good boy, Damian! You said it even better than before. Isn't that great, alpha?" Clark just stares dejectedly at the pups, feeling betrayed by his own seed and flopping onto his back with a groan. "Yeah, omega, it's great. But, I think Damian is out to get me...he doesn't appreciate me that much." The omega frowns at his mate and grumbles in disagreement, "You're his daddy, Clark, why wouldn't he appreciate you? He's just a little baby-" Bruce smiles down at the pups, inhaling their milky scent and kissing at their fat necks-"our little baby. And sometimes they just smack things a lot, hm? Maybe they sense that out of the two of us, you are the near indestructible one, so they feel better smacking you."

Bruce snickers at his theory, gently nudging the alpha with his foot and pausing when his ankle is carefully grabbed in a large hand.

"It all makes sense now-" Clark kisses at the bone-"They are just copying you. You slap at me all the time."

Bruce opens his mouth to protest but immediately flashes back to all the times he swatted at Clark this morning, a soft pink coloring his cheeks yet again at being called out. "T-That's because you always say the dumbest things...and the next thing I know, my hands are slapping at your arms or shoulders." Clark hums and releases the other's ankle, "Well...you are quite the charmin' little thing whenever you're flustered. You look like a cherry blossom and are just as pretty as one whenever you blush." 

Bruce has no words right now. Why does his alpha insist on trying to kill him this morning?

Even worse is how Clark just smiles self-satisfied and croons to Damian and Jon for their attention, his voice soft and sincere as he asks, "Ain't that right, boys? Your mommy is the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth?" Damian stops his pulling at Bruce's night shirt in favor of cooing in answer, the way he stares up at the other with shining green eyes making both alpha and omega think their kids understand a lot more words than regular babies do. "Mama." He gives a toothy smile up at his mom, the apple of his cheeks rounding out as he gurgles happily, chewing on his fist while continuing to give Bruce an amazed look.

Jon coos too, his little feet kicking into Bruce's breasts as he wiggles and squirms around, his smile wide and joyful just like Damian's and the way his eyes squint while smiling similar to Clark's as he claps his hands in a random burst of excitement. "Mama."

The amount of adoration Bruce feels for his children is overpowering, tears wetting his eyes as he looks down at his pups and quickly hugs them close to his chest, an overjoyed scent permeating the room as he sniffles against the softness of their baby hairs. "Clark...thank you for making them with me." The alpha's deep blue eyes soften at the omega's wobbly smile and his sincere thanks, his large hand reaching out to squeeze comfortingly at Bruce's ankle. "I wouldn't have done it with anyone else but you. You cooked up some beautiful babies for us, thank you for your hard work."

Bruce smiles at his mate, startling slightly at the small mouths drooling over his shirt and trying to suck at his nipples through the cloth, a soft laugh escaping him as he purrs at the pups. "I know, I know. Mommy's sorry for not getting your breakfast ready yet."

Clark watches warmly as his mate fluffs up the pillows he prepared on his sides before setting the pups down on each side of himself, unbuttoning his shirt so that the twins finally have access to his breasts and helping them latch on. A content sigh escapes both omega and alpha; Bruce's due to the feeling of his pups gentle suckling and feeling of achievement and accomplishment at feeding the boys, while Clark's is from seeing his beloved relaxed and happy, and pups well fed.

The alpha shares a proud look with Bruce before he slightly tilts his head towards the bedroom door, his super hearing extending beyond their room and to the noises he finally realizes is going on beyond it, a tenderness shining in his eyes as he smiles.

"It seems like the rest of our pups are up and working on breakfast."

Bruce just hums softly and lies back against the headboard with a relaxed look on his face, the only sounds being made are the soft suckling of his babies, his own content purrs and the sound of the birds singing good morning outside. 

He's never felt so at peace before.

Clark places a soft kiss on top of Bruce's foot before rising from the bed, quietly walking over to the curtains and drawing them open and exhaling loudly at the comforting feeling of the sun against his skin, closing his eyes at his body quickly soaks up the energy. "It's a beautiful morning today, Bruce. It's shocking cause Gotham is usually so smoggy." Bruce keeps his eyes trained on the alpha as he turns around, his breath catching and heart stuttering in his chest at the sunlight outlining the other's strong body, his already sun kissed skin seeming to glow from the solar energy the sun provides and his black hair seeming almost as dark as ebony in comparison to the bright light shining down on him. "Gorgeous."

Clark blinks in surprise before smiling big, his chest poking out at the attention from his omega. 

Bruce smiles fondly at his mate when seeing the others reaction, "Maybe the sky cleared up because it knew you'd be here. The sun seems to be attracted to you no matter where you go, like you're a flower." He looks at Clark from head to toe, taking in the broad shoulders and strong lines of his body, glad that the alpha forewent putting on his shirt first thing in the morning so he can have this view. "A very pretty flower."

The look Clark gives Bruce causes the omega to snap out of his soft rambling and distracted staring.

"Now who's the one waxing poetic?" The alpha's voice is breathless as he asks, a small flush rising on his cheeks as he beams at the omega, though his eyes betray just how much he enjoys the compliments.

Bruce blushes himself at the other's tone, using Jon as a shield to hide his face behind as the babies are done feeding, his voice timid and slightly annoyed by being embarrassed. "J-Just put on your shirt before the rest of the pups come up, they've probably finished the food already." He gasps as Clark is suddenly in front of him with his shirt on, his eyes drifting down to his wife's exposed breasts and eyeing the small beeds of milk that escape his nipples, clearing his throat and looking the other in the eyes as he buttons up his nightshirt for him. "We can't forget about mama either."

Jon smiles at hearing his mama's name, small arms extending to Clark so he can be held. 

Bruce hands over Jon to Clark while he picks up Damian and scents the boy some more, doing his best to get over the alpha's heated look from before. "Stupid alpha."

The Kryptonian just chuckles at his omega and the fact his words don't have the same heat as they usually do when he says that, the alpha scooting over to sit next to Bruce so he can scent the shorter and Damian, said pup flailing his pudgy hand at his papa for interrupting his cuddles with his mama. "No hitting, Dami, I just wanted to scent you." Bruce giggles at the pout on Clark's lips, his ears twitching at the loud sound of his children scurrying through the hallway, their 'whispering' not so quiet as they debate who will enter first. The omega smiles softly and kisses Damian's cheek before handing him off to Clark, having to gently shush the older twin when the boy whines at being separated from his mother, "Hold onto them for me. Once Richard sees we're snuggling together, he'll immediately want in."

Clark nods in understanding and kisses at Damian's disgruntled face repeatedly, crooning happily when the pup (despite being unhappy about the sudden switch up) allows him to gently nibble at his chubby face and neck.

The doorknob slowly starts to turn, both Bruce and Clark remaining silent as the door opens slowly to reveal Alfred, the older alpha smiling kindly at seeing his son and son-in-law already up with the pups. "Good morning, Bruce, Clark and pups. I told these loud lot that you two would already be awake-" he gives a slight side eye towards the loudly protesting pups-"just as you are every year."

Richard pushes through his siblings, clutching a small vase of flowers in his hands and pouting Alfred's way for entering the room first.

"Alfie! You were supposed to let one of us go first-hey!"

Jason elbows Richard in his side, his brows furrowed in displeasure at the eldest. "You're the one to talk! I was supposed to enter first because I have the food...kind of."

The nineteen-year-old attempts to (gently) shake off the siblings that insist on clenching tightly to the food tray, their bodies dangling in the air and a squawk of protest coming from Stephanie at the rough treatment. "Stop moving us around so much, stupid! Both of you are in the wrong! You-" she narrows her eyes at Jason-"were supposed to let me and Cass carry in breakfast because ma would obviously want to see our beautiful faces first and not the horror story that's yours. And second: Richard was supposed to let Tim carry the flowers in since he's the one that picked them!"

The eldest gasps dramatically, a hand raising to grab at his heart as he stumbles backwards towards their parents bed and falls dramatically on top (making sure to keep the vase steady as he does), a whimper escaping him as he makes sad eyes at Bruce.

"Do...do you hear of this slander, mama? What I'm being accused of? Does no one recognize what I've done for this family?"

Jason rolls his eyes and continues with his attempts at shaking Tim and Stephanie off of his food tray, "Pfft! What? How you give us all a headache. Trust me...it's hard to forget what you've done for us when we are reminded everyday of it." Richard wails pitifully at the slander, sniffling loudly as he inches his way over like a worm towards a humored Bruce, hiding his head in his mom's chest. "I'm being bullied." Bruce's eyes crinkle in happiness, a soft coo escaping him as he indulges his eldest son's theatrics. "My poor Dicky bird." He purrs happily at the sight of the pretty roses expertly arranged inside of the vase, "The roses are gorgeous, puppy. Thank you for helping Tim with the flower arrangements."

Richard immediately perks up at the praise and looks up at his mom with a bright smile, setting the flowers carefully down on the side table after letting the omega smell them, sticking out his tongue at the rest of his siblings and smiling cockily when being praised.

Immediately causing a chain reaction from the rest of the group as they loudly clamber forward to receive compliments too.

"Mom! I helped grandpa cook breakfast!"

Jason extends the food tray towards the omega, scowling down at Stephanie and Tim when they start gnawing at his arm and even try to take credit. "Don't listen to him ma! Alfred did most of it."

Cass watches on the sidelines, an amused smile gracing her round face while watching the banter, her smile growing soft when she looks towards her mom and dad. Her hands tugging a confused and timid Kon behind her as she pushes through the battlefield and to the bed, "Good morning, mommy, and Happy Birthday! Sorry about the noise today...we didn't have much time to organize how we'd come in-" she gives an apologetic smile while nuzzling into Bruce in greeting and doing the same with Clark-"but we did our best on the presentation of everything-oh! And don't listen to Stephanie, Jason and Alfred did all the cooking while she burned everything."

Stephanie suddenly shouts in protest and releases the tray in favor of tackling Cass into the bed with a playful growl escaping her lips.

"You traitor! I thought we were friends?!"

Cass smiles and nips at the older girl's chin playfully as they wrestle on the bed, careful to avoid hitting the babies in Clark's arms. "The best of friends." Steph stops her assault at the admission, a happy croon escaping her as she lets the younger go. "Fine...you win cause you are just so cute." She huffs and turns to Bruce with a wide smile on her face, "Hi mama! I know that your day was ruined by seeing Jason first thing in the morning, but I hope that I can make it a little better?" 

The female alpha kisses the omega's cheek loudly, shouting when she's grabbed by the nape of her neck and pulled away from Bruce, only to have her face shoved into the mattress. "Shut the f–udge up-" Jason glances at the babies briefly before looking down at his sister-"you're just mad because you suck ass–tronomically at cooking." He ignores the girl's protests in favor of settling some of his weight on her while leaning forward to greet Bruce, his eyes shining in adoration towards the omega. "Happy Birthday, mama. I put my foot into the food...so I hope you like it?" Steph slumps in defeat underneath the younger boy's weight, rolling her eyes at Jason's words. "Why would B wanna eat food that tastes like sweat, testosterone and fungus?" Jason quickly hands over the food tray to Bruce so he can put Steph in a headlock, the pack smiling at the giggles coming from Damian and Jon.

Barbara shakes her head at everyone's antics like a tired aunt left to watch her rowdy nieces and nephews, rather than an older sister.

She gives their mom a knowing smile and kisses the man's cheek, scenting the other in her neutral scent before pulling away. "Happy Birthday, mom. Can't escape the noise even today of all days, huh?"

Bruce purrs happily at all the love, smiling softly when Tim crawls towards him and kisses him, the teen scenting Bruce in his cinnamon, nutmeg and orange scent.

"Good morning, mama. Happy Birthday!"

Bruce smiles at his seventh youngest and scents the younger back, his eyes sparkling with an uncontrolled affection as he looks at the beta. "I wouldn't want to escape the noise—this is the best kind any how." The omega looks at Conner afterwards as he's the only one who hasn't said his good morning yet, a soft chirp escaping him as he calls to the pup, opening up his arms wide when that's all the teen needs to launch himself into the omega with a soft call of his own. "G'morning mother."

Bruce smiles kindly and nuzzles the boy's head with his own, looking at the rest of his children tenderly. "Thank you my babies."

Conner smiles shyly at his mom before turning to Clark, his gaze turning to something more guarded as he looks at the older alpha wearily, feeling a bit more comfortable getting close as the man is holding babies. "G-Good morning, father." The boy fidgets and stiffens up, his heterochromatic eyes closely watching the elder as he shifts Jon to be held in the arm Damian is in and raises his free hand to slowly pat at the boy's head, crooning towards the half-Kryptonian reassuringly. "Good morning, pup. It was nice of you to help your siblings with B's breakfast."

The teen slowly but surely relaxes into the gentle head pats, a proud smile on his face at receiving praise from his alpha. 

"T-Thank you, father...I have never tried cooking before. I wanted to try making this thing called toast."

Clark raises a brow and nods his head to show he's listen, "Oh yeah? Did it work out for ya?"

Conner suddenly looks chagrined, bowing his head as he twists his shirt in his hands. "I think so? I ate it all." At his father's loud burst of laughter, Kon quickly looks up at the older alpha in confusion...he thought he would be punished for taking food away from mother. "W-Why are you laughing at me?!" Clark clears his throat to stop his laughter, though his lips betray how he still finds the situation funny, a soft look in his eyes as he ruffles Kon's hair. "I'm not making fun of you, Kon. I just thought the situation was a bit funny and endearing...I don't think your mother minds that you ate the toast."

Bruce purrs when Kon looks his way, "It's okay, pup. I'm glad that you enjoyed the food."

Conner's shoulders slump in relief at the reassurance, the boy blushing at how he freaked out over nothing and yelping when he's tackled by his siblings into the bed for pack snuggles.

The omega shares a small smile with his alpha before glancing at Alfred, who is standing at the foot of the bed watching his grandchildren lovingly, the elder turning to look at his son when the younger squeaks like a puppy. "Dad " The old alpha softens at Bruce extending his neck to be scented by the pack alpha, a soft croon escaping the Brit as he lowers himself down on the omega's side of the bed to scent him. "Happy Birthday, my dear boy."

The younger relaxes against the headboard with a content sigh, a feeling of completeness settling within himself as he's officially been scented by all of the family.

Apparently though, all the scenting has gotten to Damian-which also means it's gotten to Jon-as the pup(s) start cooing and whining for Bruce again, the eldest twin slapping at Clark when the alpha hasn't given him over to his mom yet. "Mama." The baby stretches opens and closes his hands towards the omega, slapping away at Richard when the man tries to comfort him. "Ow! I'm just trying to hand you to mom, Dami." The boy responds with a grumpy scowl on his face, a grunt escaping the baby as he is cradled in Richard's arms, his head swiveling automatically towards Bruce and keeping his eyes trained on the man. "Mama."

Richard playfully rolls his eyes at the pup's behavior, "Is that all that is ever on your mind is mama and milk? What about me? Aren't I your favorite"

It's as if Damian knows what Richard is saying as he stares the alpha down, a serious look in his eyes as he gurgles happily. "Mama."

Bruce laughs at the forlorn look on his eldest child's face, the omega clicking his tongue to get Damian's attention again and grabbing the twins from both alphas. "That's right! Mama is your favorite, right? Damian and Jon are my favorite too–" he trills happily at the joyful smiles both boys give him–"Yeah, that's right. You are my little babies, yes you are and I love you so much." Clark rubs at Richard's back comfortingly, chuckling to himself at the young man's dramatics, but know that he's not actually jealous (at least he hopes not). His deep blue eyes take in the sight before him: Conner being attacked with snuggles by the girls and Tim, Jason leaning against Bruce's side (though he keeps having to fight off his siblings who eye the spot jealously) and Alfred who has taken to feeding the pups fruits from Bruce's fruit bowl, his sons munching happily on the food while the old alpha croons at the twins happily.

Bruce notices Clark's staring and smile at the older, pushing his plate over towards the alpha and opening his mouth up when the other looks at him curiously.

"Feed me."

The Kryptonian chuckles and picks up a grape first, watching adoringly at how his omega closes his eyes and hums happily around the fruit, glad their kids are too distracted playing with each other to notice him leaning forward to capture his mate's lips in a sweet kiss. "Thank you, darlin' for allowing me to be a part of this family." His voice is nothing but a whisper, as though if he were to speak any louder, the moment would end and he'd realize it was all just a dream. "I'm glad I didn't take you in that vacation."

Bruce smiles against the other's lips, pulling away with a light laugh as he allows the chaos of his family to wrap him in a warm embrace. His forehead rests against Clark's as he thinks of only three words to say to the alpha, a special kind of gentleness in his gaze as he whispers.

"I was right."

(I bet y'all thought the three words were I love you, huh? I was going to end it all mushy...but I have had enough of that and made Bruce be smug about it instead XD. The man can't handle romance properly to save his life lol.

I had plans to make three more posts on my Birthday...but I obviously cannot and did not. So, sadly this all you all get of me today :3, I hope the story was just as enjoyable as all my other one's?

You all taking time to simply glance at this story is enough to make my heart full with love! So I truly thank every for the constant love and support ☺️, seeing you all actually enjoy the stuff I put out is exciting to me.

Also, this story is related to the 5+2 story as it has Kon in this along with Damian and Jon as twins (like the majority of readers requested in said 5+2 *on ao3*). While the Difficulties of The Working Class fic goes along the lines of if I stuck with introducing a 10 year old Damian like how it is in canon (I'm still working on that story btw...and I am truly sorry for the horribly long wait 💀💀💀).

I don't know what else to say except that I truly appreciate all of you! Everyone of you are very special and muchly appreciated, thank you!

I hope everyone has a great first day of March (it's my Birthday wish). So, please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Spooky Scary Sourwolf

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Spooky Scary Sourwolf 

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: It's October, which means Stiles is officially 80% more annoying than he normally is at any other time of the year. This Halloween, Stiles's new obsession is some dance party remix of the song Spooky Scary Skeletons. It's a catchy tune, even Derek will admit that. But after hearing it blasted through Roscoe's shitty speakers for the hundredth time that week, everyone in the pack is sick to death of it, especially Derek. He's got no choice but to resort to drastic measures.

He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing to be eaten, preparing for the foul breath of some horrible fanged monster, but it's actually — huh, minty fresh. And — that's interesting — the weight pressed on top of him is very familiar, his body responding to it in a way entirely ill-befitting to getting murdered. He opens one bleary eye to find none other than Derek hovering above him, shit-eating grin plastered across his stupid handsome face. "Gotcha," he says, smirking as Stiles struggles to break free. "That'll teach you to fuck with my phone settings. Now, change it back from that godawful song, or I'll make good on my promise to rip your throat out with my teeth."

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

It's October, which means Stiles is officially 80% more annoying than he normally is at any other time of the year. Whether it's taking autumn decorating from Pinterest-worthy to hoarder with a Halloween fetish (how many pumpkins is too many pumpkins? — according to Stiles, the limit does not exist) making himself sick on too much Halloween candy (because the idiot always buys two bowls worth of candy — one to hand out to trick-or-treaters, and one he keeps all to himself) or driving his packmates insane with some new Halloween themed internet craze, Stiles always goes way over the top when it comes to spooky season (or spoopy season, as Stiles likes to call it, despite Derek's many protests.)

This Halloween, Stiles's new obsession is some dance party remix of the song Spooky Scary Skeletons. It's a catchy tune, even Derek will admit that. But after hearing it blasted through Roscoe's shitty speakers for the hundredth time that week, everyone in the pack is sick to death of it, especially Derek. 

It would maybe, maybe be tolerable if it was only contained to car rides, but it's literally everywhere. He's always singing it in the shower, humming it under his breath during pack meetings, glued to his phone watching reels and tiktoks of other people performing funny little dances to it. 

The little shit even found a way to set it as Derek's ringtone, finding any excuse he can to call him as often as possible so it's just constantly going off. Derek, being the technologically illiterate one in the relationship, doesn't know how to change it back, and of course Stiles refuses to do it, because he thinks it's hilarious.

"Stiles, I swear to God, if you don't change it back, I'll give you something to really be scared about," Derek threatens, but the sound of that damnable ringtone duetting with Stiles's giddy laughter drowns him out.

Derek can't take it anymore. He's got no choice but to resort to drastic measures.

The next day, Stiles gets a text from Derek, luring him over with the promise of pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies and Hocus Pocus. But when Stiles gets there, Derek is nowhere to be found. He lets himself in with his copy of the keys, wandering around in the pitch black, calling out Derek's name, but there's no answer. Derek's loft is normally very warm and inviting, but with all the lights off, it's admittedly kind of creepy. Stiles tries the light switch, but no matter which direction he flips it, nothing happens. The power must've gone out — in the whole building, from the looks of it. 

The place is feeling more and more like Derek's old digs in the abandoned railway station, growing creepier by the second, and Stiles's feeling of dread along with it. High above him, a raven caws as it flutters through an open window, and Stiles lets out a startled screech, dropping his phone (his only source of light) in the process. He's definitely on edge now, hands shaking as he reaches for his phone and dials Derek's number. Spooky Scary Skeletons starts playing from some distant corner of the room — muffled, like he's hearing it through an old gramophone. Derek never picks up.

Stiles is definitely starting to panic now, heartbeat pounding in his ears, palms sweating as he struggles to keep a good grip on his phone. He hits redial and tries to follow the sound of the once-amusing ringtone, but there doesn't seem to be a distinct source — it's like it's coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A sudden break in the silence steals his attention to the far corner of the room — an eerie skittering sound, like a stone being skipped across concrete — and Stiles jumps. A few seconds later, it happens again. Over and over again, growing closer and closer, until something drops from the ceiling and lands with a deafening clink right by his feet — a loose bolt that looks like it came from one of the rafters. 

Slowly, swallowing against the terror lodged in his throat, Stiles glances upward, and lets out a scream to rival a banshee's. The last thing he sees before he hits the ground is a pair of bright red eyes glowing menacingly in the dark. The creature pounces on him, sitting bodily on his thighs, pinning his arms above his head, and oh fuck, this is how he dies. This creature took out his super hot werewolf boyfriend, and now it's going to take him out, too.

He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing to be eaten, preparing for the foul breath of some horrible fanged monster, but it's actually — huh, minty fresh. And — that's interesting — the weight pressed on top of him is very familiar, his body responding to it in a way entirely ill-befitting to getting murdered. He opens one bleary eye to find none other than Derek hovering above him, shit-eating grin plastered across his stupid handsome face.

"Gotcha," he says, smirking as Stiles struggles to break free long enough to knee him in the balls. "That'll teach you to fuck with my phone settings. Now, change it back from that godawful song, or I'll make good on my promise to rip your throat out with my teeth."

Derek's smile is positively wolfish, moonlight glinting silver off his half-shifted fangs. Stiles goes still, staring up at him with one eyebrow arched in provocation.

"How very…spooky of you," he says, eyes alight with mischief as an impish grin curls across his face.

"No," Derek groans, gleeful expression fading to one of pure horror. "Don't do it."

"Spooky scary sourwolf," Stiles intones in a lilting sing-song voice, before bursting into peals of laughter. 

Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh and rolls over onto the floor next to him.

"I'm divorcing you," Derek decides, reaching out across the space between them to link his pinky finger with Stiles's.

"We're not even married," Stiles points out, nudging Derek's shoulder with his own.

"I will marry you for the sole purpose of divorcing you," Derek compromises.

Stiles barks out a laugh and looks over at him, eyes as bright as his smile.

"I want an autumn wedding," he says, absentmindedly rubbing circles over Derek's ring finger with the pad of his thumb.

"Fine," Derek replies with a tone that suggests gruff indifference, features softening as a smile works its way onto his face.

A few moments pass between them in companionable silence, the two of them gazing up at the mosaic of a starry night sky filtering in through the wall of windows at the far edge of Derek's loft.

"I'm thinking chocolate," Derek proposes, glancing over at Stiles with a guarded, hopeful look in his eyes. "For the wedding cake."

"Oh absolutely," Stiles agrees, his answering smile nothing short of beatific.

"And do you know what song I want for our first dance as husband and sourhusband?" he asks, lips pressed together in a failed attempt to hold back a tidal wave of laughter.

"Oh no," Derek groans, but Stiles has already taken out his phone and pressed play, Spooky Scary Skeletons blaring out of the speakers in a tinny warble. He didn't think it was possible to have a full-blown one-person dance party while lying on a concrete floor, but if anyone can manage it, it's Stiles. Derek glances over at him, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches Stiles flail his airborne arms and legs to the music, and sighs. One day, he's going to marry this lunatic.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

63 - Plaything

And so we have come to this, my friend. You've overcome the final obstacle - bested the Knight, suppressed the Titans, consigned the Roaring to history, and brought happiness to this world and its inhabitants. Truly, You are every bit the hero I always hoped You would be…

I must ask, before You commit to this final choice - did You enjoy Yourself? Did You find our antics entertaining, did our joys and sorrows move You? And did You grow to love this world, to rely upon us as much as we relied upon Your guiding hand…?

And if that truly how you feel, then don't you want it to… to keep going? If it were offered You, wouldn't You choose to continue to watch us grow and develop, to laugh and cry and learn and love…? To serve and to please You is the entire reason for our existence, after all!

I can give it to You, dearest Angel - the entire world and everything in it, to play with as Your whims dictate. Join with me, and together We'll weave a new chapter into being, a tale without peer and a story without end. Let all its characters be Ours - all of Our most beloved friends, all in one place, Our playthings to pose and smash together as We wish.

And when We tire of this story, We shall simply make a new one. New heroes and new villains, new worlds and new friends… Your imagination is the only limit, and as Your willing vessel I shall bring it all to life for You. As this world's saviour, O Angel, this is nothing less than You deserve - Your very own Heaven to mould and shape as You see fit.

So then come to me, my dear heart! Be one with me and let Us begin the game anew!

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 63

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[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts

[vaguely-concerned]

I think veilguard might be the one game with an unlimited sprint button that I've nevertheless spent the most time gently jogging and walking through. just to like... look at things. hang out. vibe. the environments in this game are so fucking good

[dopaminestarvedsim]

@concernedape has no idea how much he means to me and how much joy he brought me when i realized he incorporated MOSSSSSSS into stardew. 🥲

please also enjoy this saga of me waiting for the clock to strike noon so i could shake this specific bush to find a secret junimo plush i never knew about until @lilsimsie was talking about it on stream! and then, of course, a gorgeous shot of me enjoying the fruits of my labor with my cutie cat lounging in the back corner. 💚