#blue velvet is ok I guess.

[obstinaterixatrix]

also I told them that I think I can say I don’t like 50s pop from the usa, but as we kept going I was like ‘well, I guess I do like [specific 50s pop song]’ and we kept having to narrow it down & sister thinks, specifically, I don’t like slow white doo-wop from the 50s. she might be right

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

[alleycatchitchat]

TROLLS BAND TOGETHER SPOILERS

SO I WATCHED TROLLS BAND TOGETHER!!! MANY FEELINGSS! INCOHERENT!!!

I have SO much to say and think about this movie (positive) buuut I need a few days, or maybe weeks, to process... but I made some notes while watching just to chronicle the emotional journey I was experiencing, and wanted to share! There are SPOILERS here, please PLEASE do not read if you don't want to see spoilers!!

Ready? Ok:

"Let's play some rummy! But I won't let you win, because I play for the money" i think im in love

BRIDGET WEDDING JUMPSUIT FUCK YEAH 😭😭

"I can't remember all my suitors, Grissie" yes you go girl. you're powerful and amazing and people love you, don't ever forget it

apparently poppy casually refers to branch as her boyfriend and that's normal now. i'm (choke) gonna need (sob) gonna need a minute here guys

love that floyd signs his letters "the sensitive one" like yeah babe pretty sure your brother knows who you are no need to specify

sweet dreams IS featured in this movie!! omg im so happy you have no idea. i saw somewhere that velvet and veneer performed that song and it's my favorite ever and i was SO freaking excited to see it featured in one of my favorite franchises but i couldn't find it when the soundtrack came out so i thought it was fake but its not im so happy

peppy how many more dark secrets are you hiding?? he was so straightforward in the first movie but now it looks like he's just gonna keep pulling bigger and weirder hidden drama out of his sleeve as the franchise progresses. not necessarily a complaint just something i noticed

floyd is branch's favorite brother CONFIRMED

floyd! the sass!! ok he's DEFINITELY related to branch and also i think i love him

FLOYD SWEETHEART BABYGIRL DONT BE SAD I CANT HANDLE THAT

“Branch? One word. KEEPER”

Wait but how can floyd be my favorite brozone member when bruce is also so wonderful

I can also totally see the family resemblance between branch and bruce when they simp over their girls

I KNEW peppy was gonna be talking to mr dinkles i knew it i knew it

Also just so happy to see them acknowledge the events of the original movie. Don’t think bridget and gristle were even in TWT?? And the trolls’ history with the bergens in HUGE, and something that they shouldn’t have just written out of the story like that

They’re going to FLUSH floyd?????

Yes clay grandma got eaten try to keep up

Floyd and branch hugging THROUGH the glass is everything i ever wanted and also killing me slowly and painfully

I mean i guess its diamond not glass but you get the idea

“Its fine. we’re not gonna press charges”

Anna is unfrozen with the power of sisterly love but short, male, and blue

Do i like veneer now? What’s happening?

Wow. branch has come a long way since the first troll movie, and i didn’t know how to feel abut that because i was so nostalgic, but seeing him happy and confident like this makes me feel so at peace. yess i know he’s a fictional children’s character what of it

[yuzukult]

from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you. 

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?” 

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again. 

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell. 

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.” 

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week. 

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him. 

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits. 

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist. 

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.” 

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,”  Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.” 

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.” 

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds. 

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year. 

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity. 

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that. 

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you. 

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations. 

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward. 

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you. 

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp. 

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok. 

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation. 

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place. 

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat." 

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat. 

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so. 

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?" 

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 7 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I am having a bad day and what I wouldn't get to have these two take care of me right now.

Warning: Dom Steddie/ Plus Size Sub reader and all that that implies! (I regret nothing!) , Jealous Steddie as well, Degrading, slapping, first time use of titles (we'll be seeing more of that from here on in), Billy being a dick to Steve. I think that's all. Smut, a dash of fluff, with a sprinkle of angst.

Word Count: 4055

This past summer was more than perfect. Spending two months in New York was the break you desperately needed from Hawkins and all the stress that came with it. You did miss Eddie and Steve but it was nice to be away from them for a while to clear your mind. You called them a couple of times but it was hard to be on the phone for long in house full of people. 

When you got back home, you were ready to start your senior year. You had bought a whole new wardrobe, wanting to show people like Tommy and Carol you weren’t the same meek, scared girl anymore. 

“Holy shit. Is that my sexy best friend?”, Masie grinned as she picked you up from your house on the first day. “You look so good.”

“Thank you.” You flashed her your silky, red tank top under Eddie’s leather jacket. The blue jean shorts showed off your legs and the cute black, velvet boots made you feel extremely powerful. 

“I missed you so much.” You smile as she leans over to give you hug. 

The school was full of electricity with student’s hugging each other and comparing class schedules. You couldn’t help but giggle when some of the boys did a double take as you walked by. 

“Hm. I guess you’re going to be popular this year.” She smiles as she links her arm into yours. “Eddie Munson definitely has some competition.”

“Oh my god, Maze. Let it go!”, you sigh, rolling your eyes as you point to a room across from you both. “This is my first class.”

“Alright. I’ll see you at lunch later, okay?”

“Ah, Miss Y/N. I saw you were in my class this year. Hopefully you’ll behave, yeah?” Mr. C smiled with you nodded. “Good. I gave Steve the same warning. Now I’m just waiting for—”

Eddie skids into the classroom with his hands high into the air. “Mr. C! My favorite teacher!”

“Mhmm. Mr. Munson, please, for my old heart can you keep it together for me this year?”

“No promises.” Red paints your face as the metalhead’s eyes finally land on you, drinking you in. “But who knows. Obviously, people can surprise you. Hey sweetheart.”

“Ay yi yi. Ok, none of that. Both of you take a seat.”

As you turn, your eyes meet Steve’s as he lets out a shaky breath and flashes you a tender smile. Unfortunately, there weren’t three seats together so you were a bit farther from them than you would have preferred but at least you had one class together. 

You hadn’t realized how much you actually missed them until they were in front of you again. Eddie still looked the same with his torn up blue jeans and heavy metal shirt blanketed under the smell of cigarette smoke. Steve had grown his hair out a bit more and seemed like he got some sun this summer. Currently, they were radiating that softness that you enjoyed when they were taking care of you. 

That was short lived however when a new face entered the classroom. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t say you thought the boy that came in was incredibly attractive. His blue eyes penetrated your own as he sauntered over and stopped at the seat in front of yours. 

“Hey, man. Do you mind finding another desk?”, he asked the boy sitting in the desk. When he didn’t immediately stand, his beautiful eyes clouded over with intensity. “Move. Now.”

The kid promptly collected his things and quickly shuffled away as the man grinned, turning to you as he extended his hand. “I’m Billy Hargrove. What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Y/N.”

Billy smirked as you stuttered out your answer. There was something intimating about the man in front of you that scared you slightly but not in the same way Eddie and Steve had. The boys originally frightened you because of the way they made you feel. Billy, on the other hand, had this air about him that practically screamed he liked things his way whether you liked it or not. You imagined he knew how to satisfy a woman but with that extra sense of arrogance he wasn’t going to stay with one for long. 

As you scanned the room again, you found both Eddie and Steve glaring at him with immense anger. Shit. This may be a long year.

#########

The rest of the day went by much too slowly for your liking. You found out you did have one more class each with the guys and you three still shared a lunch period. As the day went on though they started to feel more distant as they huffed at the people around you who gawked as you walked by. 

After your basketball practice as you and the team started to head in to get showered and leave for the day, you passed the guys team having their own practice.

As you entered the gym, you noticed Eddie leaning against the risers with his arms folded as he watched the display in front of him. Billy was in front of Steve bouncing the basketball mockingly in front of him as he cockily grinned in his direction. 

“What’s going on?”

Eddie glanced at you before turning back to the court. 

“Seems your new boyfriend is trying to take Steve’s place on the team.”

“Really? My boyfriend.”, you sighed as you rolled your eyes.

“Roll your eyes like that again, Y/N. I dare you.” His eyes never leave the game as he speaks. “Seems this summer made you believe things are different. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but they aren’t. We still own you.”

“What makes you angrier, Eddie? The fact he sat in front of me or the fact that he showed more control by moving someone to sit with me? Makes you wonder else he’d do to be near me.”

As if on cue, Billy shoulder checks Steve knocking him to the ground as he runs around him to make a basket. The teams claps as he grins before he notices you watching, giving a subtle wink before focusing on the game again. 

“Hm. I can’t wait to tell Steve you said that. I’m very curious to see what he thinks.”

With that you turn and head for the locker room as nerves fill your stomach. You’re going to regret saying that but you weren’t sure how or where it would come from. 

############

They practically ignored you for the rest of the week which made you both furious and heartbroken. You spent all summer missing them even falling asleep in Steve’s sweatshirt or Eddie’s jacket just to have them close in some way. Why weren’t they as desperate to have you as you were to have them?

“Hey, pretty girl.” You head swiveled around to meet Billy’s cocky smile as he threw his shirt on the risers behind you while you were sitting in the gym during your free period. “Come to watch me play?” Steve passed you both, his eyes full of fire as he walked by. “Oh, I see. You have crush on ‘King’ Steve Harrington. Trust me, baby girl. He’s not worth your time.”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me things like that.”

“Ooo… do I have to earn it? I’m really good at that game.”

He chuckles as he runs out onto the court and the team begins practice. Billy is just as ruthless as he was the last time you watched them practice, him taunting Steve any chance he could but like the fighter he was Steve was always right back in front of him trying to take the ball. 

“Do you know she has a crush on you? Is that way you’re trying so hard, Harrington?” Billy shoves around him, knocking him down as he makes a basket. You get to your feet and run to help him up, but the other boy beats you reaching out his hand for him to take. “Oh, I get it. You like her to. This is going to be fun for me.” He chuckles as he pushes Steve back down to the floor. 

Your hand reaches for his and he aggressively smacks it out of the way, jumping to his feet and exiting the double doors to the outside the gym. Running after him, you find him pacing as he fumes. 

“Steve? Are you okay?”

When you extend your hand again, his palms grip either side of your face as he backs you against the brick wall, crashing his lips to yours. You mewled at the taste of him as you pulled his hips to yours. 

“You think he shows more control than we do? That he’d do anything to be with you?”

“Steve—”

He cut you off with his mouth on yours as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid his hand through the waistband of your panties. You moaned, gripping the back of his neck as his fingers breached your entrance. 

“You really did forget a lot while you were away. This pussy and your body belong to us. Only we can make you feel this good.” All you can do is nod as he steadily builds you up. “You think because you come home with this new look and attitude that you can do better than us?”

“No…no, Steve. I—mmm—I only want you two. I missed you both so much.” He curled his fingers inside of you practically lifting you on to your toes as you hand flew down to grab his wrist. “Steve, please.”

Your other hand tugged on his sweaty shirt as your head fell to his chest, your moans muffled as you came. You continued to pant as he removed his hand and buttoned your jeans back around your waist. “Don’t let him get under your skin.” Your tone was soft as you pressed your body to his. 

Steve sighed heavily before you felt his arms finally wrap around you. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“I don’t either. He calls me names you guys call me and it just feels weird.”

“Weird how?” His tone shifts back into authoritative as he pulls your head back to look at your face. “Does he make you uncomfortable? We can talk to him. I can knock him on his ass.”

“No, baby, no. Don’t worry about him. Just ignore him. I, um, I hope it’s ok but I got you guys something while I was gone. Can I come over after school and give them to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” You grin as he kisses your forehead before running back into the gym.

############

“Where are your parents?”

“Uh, my dad is in Europe…I think…and my mom went with him.”, Steve shrugs as Eddie lights a cigarette and leans back against one of the lawn chairs by the pool. 

“I hear you bought us things.”

Smiling, you reach into your bag and hand them each a box. Steve beams as he holds up a pair of sunglasses and places them over his eyes. 

“They’re like the ones Tom Cruise wears in that movie you like.”

“Risky Business. Yeah! How do I look? Do I look just like him?”

“Better.”, you giggle as you turn to Eddie, pausing when you notice his vacant expression as he stares at the gorgeous, gemstone Dungeons and Dragons dice in his hand. “Did I get the right kind? I don’t know much about D&D but the guy in the store said these were perfect for a… Dungeon Master? I think that’s what you said you were, right?”

“I did. Um, yeah, no, princess these are beautiful. No one’s ever got me a thoughtful gift like this before.” His arms wrap around you as he kisses your temple before pulling you down with him against the chair making you laugh. “Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as Eddie continues smoking with you laying on his chest between his legs, his hand occasionally rubbing your arm while Steve stares off into the distance still wearing the sunglasses.

Was this what they meant when they said they wanted to just be? You didn’t mind it, feeling like you could stay this way forever. The only problem was Steve was so far away…

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Huh?”

“You just sighed. What’s running through your mind?”, Eddie asked with that syrupy sweet tone you dreamed about while you were away. 

“I’m just thinking about how far Steve is right now.”

“Hm. Kinda greedy today, huh? I heard Steve made you cum outside the gym, naughty girl.”

“But I haven’t seen you both in over two months. I missed you. D-Did you miss me?”

“Uh oh, Eds. She’s reverting back to that shy little girl again. It must be you, dude.”

“I’m not a little girl!”

“Hm. Sound like a little girl to me.”

You know what you’re doing and so do they, you three waiting for someone to make the next move. You decide it will be you, hoping they respond the way you want them to; NEED them to. 

“Well, fine then. If I’m such a little girl and you didn’t miss me, I guess I’ll go home.” Pushing Eddie’s arm out of the way you march back into Steve’s house and head for the front door. As you open it, a ringed hand cuts you off, and slams it shut.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?” He starts to slowly walk you backwards towards the living room. “You think you can talk to us like that and then just leave? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Seems like she still needs a reminder of who’s in charge.”, Steve grins as he closes the back door and leans against it. 

“Is that what you need, little girl?”, Eddie taunts. 

“I’m NOT a little girl.”, you growl. 

He towers over you as his eyes stare you down. “Yes, you are. You’re a bratty…slutty…bad…little girl.” Between each word he gave you a small but forceful shove until you stumbled onto the couch. He sat beside you, his fingers pinching your cheeks as he turned your head to look at him. “Say it.”

When you shake your head, Eddie loosens his grip, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Steve?” The other boy descends to the floor between your legs, unbuttoning your jeans, and tugs them off your body. 

Abruptly, a palm connects with your face eliciting a squeak from you. Your eyes meet the metalheads as he searches within them, gauging your reaction. When you don’t respond or protest, his fingers grip your cheeks again. 

“Do you remember what we talked about before you left? About us having titles and taking care of you?”

“And…in return I show you the…respect you deserve?”, you pant; completely turned on by his words and the slap he delivered you. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s right.” He pauses when your breathing stutters as you feel Steve pull down your panties and toss them aside. “Is that something you want to try…with us? For example, I just hit you. Did…f-fuck�� did you like it? Say yes or no and then follow it with Sir or Master.”

You moaned, feeling Steve’s breath hit your core as your legs opened wider for him. “Yes, S-sir. I liked you slapping me.” His tongue licked a stripe between your folds and you practically melted into the couch. 

“See? You’re a natural.” Eddie’s lips delicately traced your jawline down to your neck. That combined with Steve wrapping his mouth around your clit was having you seeing stars. 

“Wh-what should I—mmm—what should I call, Steve?”

“What feels right? I have a feeling when it comes to Stevie, there’s been something in the forefront of your mind. Just say it and see if he likes it.”

You lick your lips as your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pressing him further into your cunt. “Daddy…” 

They both groan as Steve’s tongue flicks faster against your nub. Eddie unbuttons his jeans and lifts his hips to push them and his boxers down his legs. His lips roughly find yours for a moment before clinging to your face again. 

“Say it. Say you’re a fucking little girl.” Your eyes start to flutter closed and he pulls his hand back to smack you again. “Harrington! Don’t let her cum until she says it.” 

“I’m…I’m a…” You struggle to find the words as you hurtle quickly towards the edge.

“If you cum before you say it, I’m going to use my belt to punish you again and I won’t be as nice as he was!”

“Fuck! I’m a little girl! Please…please!” Your thighs close around his head as you cum, lifting your hips off the couch. Steve’s fingers force your legs open as he continues licking you clean. 

When he sits up on his knees, you bring your lips to his, tasting yourself on his breath. You don’t see it but both men glance at each other as Eddie nods his approval. Steve lifts off his shirt as you reach down to unbuckle his belt and tug at his jeans. 

As he leans back to take them off, the metalhead’s fingers turn you to face him. “Now, be honest, we…we have to ask. Were you with anyone in New York?” His tone is gentle, not carrying any accusation within his words. 

“We just need to know if we need to use condoms.”, Steve follows as he runs his palms along your thighs. 

“No, I swear I wasn’t. Were…were you…with anyone?” Your eyes squeeze shut and a thankful sigh escapes your lips when they both shake their heads. 

Eddie lifts off your shirt and Steve leaned forward to passionately kiss your lips. Your eyes rolled back as he reached between you both to guide his cock into your entrance as his arms wrapped around your back. He clung to your body as thrust into you at a steady pace, his mouth and tongue attaching to your nipple making you whimper. 

“Say it again, baby girl. Mmm…call me that name again.”

“Daddy.”

“Fuck me…” His hips rolled into yours as you lifted your own off the couch to meet his pushing him deeper into you. Your head lulls to side to search for Eddie but he was still in the same place stroking his cock as he watched you. 

“Fuck, princess. I can’t wait to have you after him. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for weeks.”

“God damn it.”, Steve grunted as your pussy clenched at Eddie’s promise. His head fell beside yours as he pumped into you faster. “Beg me, honey. Beg Daddy to make you cum.”

Your lips pressed against the shell of his ear as your fingers pulled at his hair. “Please, Daddy. Please make me cum. Mmm… fuck…I missed you so much. You feel so good inside me.”

His mouth sloppily kissed your own, swallowing your moans as you came. “That’s it. Fuck…such a good girl…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he pushed up on his hands and slammed his hip into you as released his seed deep inside of your cunt.

As soon as the other boy pulled out, Eddie was on you, wrapping his arm around your stomach as he tugged you back against the couch until you were laying on your side with him behind you. His fingers roughly gripped your thigh, holding your leg in the air as he slid his throbbing cock into your dripping hole. 

True to his word, he thrust into aggressively, bordering the line between pleasure and pain. His blown-out eyes met yours when your hand reached out to hold the one the that was dangling off the couch behind your head. 

“Steve’s right. Mmm…such a good…beautiful girl.” His lips kissed yours before your whimper vibrated against them as his fingers circled your clit. “Look at me, Y/N. Don’t…take your eyes off me.” Eddie’s mouth opened in a silent O as he watched you struggle to keep them open. “Does that feel good, baby?”

His fingers left your bundle of nerves as they flew to your face so he could pinch your cheeks. “I asked you a fucking question. You answer me, little girl. Does my cock feel good?”

“Yes—mmm—yes, Sir. Your cock…feels so fucking good.”

“Don’t you dare take those eyes off of me, ok?” He places his hand back between your legs as you moan. Eddie’s hips start to faulter as he watches you come undone, screaming his name as tumble over the edge. As your pussy clings to him, he drops your leg as he clings to hips, grunting as he cums inside you. 

You both pant as you try to catch your breath. A hand pets at your hair and you turn your head to see Steve’s soft eyes glancing over your face. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” When you respond your voice comes out hoarse giving him pause. 

“I’m going to grab a bottle of water.”

After you watch him leave, you turn back to see Eddie’s eyes are closed. Delicately treading the waters again, you lift your arm, placing it under his head and to your pleasant surprise he scoots closer to you, pulling your body to his. 

“Alright, honey. Drink some of this.” Steve places his hand behind you as he guides the bottle of liquid to your lips. “Atta girl. Eddie, do you want some?”

The metalhead declines with a cute nu uh sound that makes you giggle as you feel him smile against your skin. 

“Come on, Munson. We still have to clean her so she can go home.” Your eyes swivel around to find Steve as he tilts his head. “Don’t you? Your parents expect you home at a certain time.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to go home yet.”

“We don’t want you to go either, baby, but we don’t want you to get in trouble.” You sigh as Eddie releases you so you can both sit up. “Do you want to use my shower or…”

“I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.”

“I can carry you—”

“No…no, Steve. I’m ok.” You lean against Eddie’s shoulder as Steve heads back towards the kitchen to find a washcloth. “Eddie? Did I do good?”

He chuckles through his nose as he reaches down to hold your hand. “Princess, you were more than good. Did you…like it?”

You nod as the other boy reappears and sits beside you, gently opening your legs as he cleans between them. Steve stops when you hiss and bite you bottom lip. 

“Sore.”

“Y/N, um, we’ve been thinking a lot and talking over the summer…” Your eyes shoot open as you look at him, terrified of what he’s about to say next. “We still don’t know how to define this but we do want you to be comfortable.”

“You said you liked being used and degraded but we’ve never talked about anything that may be a step too far.”

“Well…what would be a step too far for you?” They both laugh at your question making you pout. 

“We asked you first, honey.”

“I-I don’t know how to answer that. I just know that I didn’t like what I had before with guys. So far, I’ve enjoyed everything. I’m open to trying anything with you two. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, you’re going to make me hard again.”, Steve sighs as he starts helping you get dressed. 

“Um, I have a question. Do I call you by your titles now? All the time?”

Eddie finishes sliding on his jeans before extending his hand to help you off the couch. “Do you want that?”

“I asked you first.”, you parrot back as you grin. 

“How about yes when it’s just the three of us?”

“I’m ok with that, Sir.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he mewls before leaning down to kiss your lips. 

“Still so fascinating.” Steve kisses you as well, taking your hand as he walks you both outside to your vehicles. “Can you call us when you get home?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

He smirks as he opens your car door for you. 

“Glad your back home, honey. We missed you to.”

#############

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @local-stoner-bitch

@katethetank @danandphilequalsmemes @luna-munson83

@sidthedollface2 @mandyjo8719 @chelebelletx @shayeddie

@emmalee-01 @anaibis @wroteclassicaly

@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @siriuslysmoking

@raptorbait529

[the-fluff-piece]

Hello! For your event, I would like to request, please! Its a mix of the rules I guess? I got inspired by the prompts, hope that's ok!

Gifting Law a coin he did not have - sweet fluff.

Thank you!

Hello Anon,

It's always ok to get inspired by the prompts, that is a great request, I had a lot of fun with it ❤

This is part of the follower milestone event

If you like this story check out my masterlist

Here's

A coin for your thoughts

You use your alone time with Law to give him your newest find: a very rare coin with a rich history. His infodump can only be stopped with lots of kisses!

Sweet, fluffy, comforting

You found it in an antique shop - a rusty, small coin with peculiar pictures on it. One side showed a single lighthouse and a banner reading "mist island", the other showed various scientific tools engulfed by swirling tendrils of smoke - or mist?

As you looked at it the clerk gave you short information about the heritage of the coin, confirming your suspicion: the island, said to be situated in the new world, is shrouded in a mysterious mist that never lifts. Scientists from the world government tried to research it, a city was built, people moved there.

But after about 10 years, everyone on the island vanished without a trace. This coin was really, really rare. You employed all your skills to check for its authenticity, and went to great lengths to get it at a good price - eventually settling for a trade where you gave up a souvenir from your journeys in exchange.

With a big smile, you returned to the Polar Tang - what would Law say to it? Will he like it? Will he recognise it? His knowledge of the coins and their stories was vast, surely he knew more about it than the clerk.

You waited all day until it was time to retire to your shared room. Law sat down on his desk to "just read a little bit more" as he promised, but he wouldn't get the chance. You had cleaned and polished the coin until it looked brand new and the copper and silver alloy showed its beautiful colours.

Standing behind him, you looked over his shoulder - anatomy. He read the same books again and again and never got sick of them. You watched him trace the line of a muscle on the page with his finger, letting him finish following the inked picture to its end. When he was done, he looked behind and smiled at you, just breathing your name as he always did to tell you he was now there for you.

Without a word, you slipped the small trinket onto the page and prepared for his reaction. His blue eyes widened and his whole face changed to that of a little boy who just got the present of his life. He created a small frame with his thumb and index finger to hold the small coin to the light of his desk lamp.

"Mist island!" His voice was not the deep and sensual velvet you were used to. Instead, he sounded more boyish, his voice a higher pitch and with a vivid inflection of happiness.

Turning around the silvery object in his long, nimble fingers, he watched the light play around the edged lines, his thumb regularly brushing over the surface to feel the smoothness of the coin and follow the small pictures on it. He spent a long time studying the swirling mist, doubtlessly feeling every detail with his sensitive finger tips.

His mouth stood open in a silent smile as you watched him lovingly, seeing how much joy your gift brought him.

"Ah!" A short noise escaped him. "An impurity!" He pointed to the smallest imperfection in the material.

"You know this happens when the temperature changes to fast in production" he explained to you for what must the millionth time. But you didn't mind, he just loved talking about alloys and metal production. It was heralding the spill of information that was to follow.

Law pushed the chair back from the desk and collected you onto his lap, putting his arms around you so that you two were looking at the coin together. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed his cheek to your face. His beard tickled you as he spoke:

"The island was a scientific research centre to lift the mystery of the mist!" He explained close to your ear in his best nerd-voice, leaving a second to chuckle at his expert joke. He held up the side of the coin with the curling mist.

"Because the mist never lifted, it never even got thinner, the island was shrouded in darkness all day, all year. It was unusually thick. The lighthouse" - he turned the coin around - "was the strongest the marine ever built, but it could hardly penetrate the thick soup. Many ships broke on the perilous coast. The great marine scientist Prof Voltan tried to get to the bottom of it all and he vanished alongside his crew of scientists and all the inhabitants of the island in one night. The speculations are outlandish!" He laughed.

"There were even rumours about pre-existing structures on the island, full of unknown symbols and pictures..." his voice trailed off.

"But that's all nonsense!" He concluded, although he couldn't hide a bit of excitement in his voice. He was so adorable when he nerded about his interests. You couldn't help but to kiss his cheek and he smiled, but he didn't stop talking.

"You know they used a special tool to catch and analyse the mist" he explained, not letting your kisses down his jaw distract him. You turned around on his lap to straddle him and reach his kissable areas more easily.

He continued his lesson: "they called it the nebuloscope! It sucked in the mist" your mouth made a sucking sound as you worked on the soft skin of his neck " and the great problem was to build a container from where it couldn't..." he couldn't end the sentence, since you nibbled at the soft patch of skin on his neck that made him loose his mind without fail.

"It couldn't...i mean the couldn't...it wasnt...", he tried to continue a few more times but failed, his speech slurred into a pant.

"Babe stop that..." he panted as you mercilessly held his skin between your lips. However, you were in a good mood and stopped, for him.

He exhaled and shifted beneath you, as his little nerd brain whipped him to tell you even more of the island mystery: "the coin itself is made from ore found on the island, it's not exactly common silver and copper." You let him explain for a short while before kissing trails down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He leaned back with his brows creased and a whimper, and continued to dump all the info in his head onto you.

"The ore...had strange properties...marine...tried to harvest it...but..." the small movements you made with your hips seemed to steal the blood from his head and you opened his shirt to marvel at your boyfriend's chest. His eyes were pressed close as he struggled for control. He knew he would eventually lose but he held on bravely. He was just trying to get into iron smelting as you pressed soft kisses to his mouth, stopping the flow of words gently.

He put the coin on his desk and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to carry you to the bed. As he laid you down and came to rest next to you, he began to repay the favour, nibbling on you ear.

"Thank you babe, I love you" he whispered into your ear and stopped talking for the night as he cuddled you happily. The rest of his speech would come tomorrow at breakfast .

__________

This one was really fun and inspiring to me. Maybe Law and y/n will find a misty island one day and have a spooky mystery adventure?

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: In the Barn

Harlan Ellison: listen up you chucklefucks Ellison: it only happens once in a lifetime that an author emerges fully formed like athena from the forehead of zeus Ellison: tonight you are going to hear from such an author Ellison: a bold new truth teller who will put you all to shame Ellison: a man named Ellison: piers anthony

Ellison: that's right, piers anthony Ellison: when you hear this story, it's gonna blow your tiny little peanut minds King: Poe: Lovecraft: Koontz: Barker: Barker: so Poe: no no clive Poe: just no

Piers Anthony: ok guys you're gonna really love this story Anthony: just let me top off the tank first Anthony: [huffing a pair of panties like dennis hopper huffing ether in Blue Velvet]

Anthony: ok so there's this earth where a disease has contaminated all the animals Anthony: so people gotta turn to human lifestock Agustina Bazterrica: yes yes Anthony: for milk Bazterrica: Bazterrica: oh yeah i guess you could do that Bazterrica: do they use human livestock for meat too Anthony: what? why would you think about that Bazterrica: it just seems the logical extension to the premise Anthony: Anthony: i guess Anthony: now if there was human lifestock, it would be pretty messed up to have sex with them right Bazterrica: yeah that would surely be a huge taboo Anthony: messed up Anthony: but also Anthony: very very interesting

Anthony: so this guy is a milk inspector and his job is to inspect milk production in different dimensions Anthony: you know, to make sure that nothing unethical is happening Anthony: cuz we wouldn't want to do business with unethical people Anthony: we have really high ethical standards here about that

Anthony: so he goes to the dimension where there's no animals Anthony: BUT Anthony: everyone's drinking milk Anthony: they LOVE it Anthony: it's like a huge thing Anthony: and this guy is all "wow, how strange" Anthony: "i wonder where all the milk is coming from" Koontz: i know! i know the answer! Anthony: no you don't dean, sit down

Anthony: so everyone loves milk Anthony: and there's all these barns everywhere Anthony: where they produce milk Anthony: but what animal is making the milk? that's the question Anthony: the answer is man Anthony: the most dangerous milk of all

Anthony: so they got these human livestock women Anthony: with big milky boobies Anthony: and the milk inspector is all "gosh, if i go into the barn, i might see a naked girl" Edward Lee: i like this guy Lee: highly relatable character

Lee: bro Lee: bro how big are the tits Anthony: oh they're real big Anthony: like Anthony: like big ol' melons Lee: Anthony: something wrong? Lee: no bro Lee: i mean Lee: i mean i guess that's pretty big

Anthony: it makes you think, tho Anthony: is the way we treat animals any better than the way these farmers treat their big mommy milker hucows Bazterrica: do they eat the livestock people Anthony: yeah i'm not getting into that Bazterrica: but Anthony: big mommy milker hucows

Anthony: [pantomiming] big mommy milkers Ellison: goddamn Ellison: you assholes hear all that? Ellison: like the goddamn shakespeare of our time

[theangelsheardyou]

RRRR NOTHING ON MY BRAIN EXCEPT KAKEGURUI AU SKK

Ok instead of a a school it takes place within the Port Mafia which is the biggest gambling ring in japan

Pm dazai and chuuya here but dazai is 22 and the pm boss and chuuya lost his place as an executive after losing against mori in a gamble for his position

2 months afterwards mori mysteriously dies and dazai becomes the boss

He calls chuuya into his office and teases him about his loss and offers him a deal

A deal where if chuuya wins he gets his old job back

If dazai wins, chuuya has to follow a life plan dazai had made for him

In this plan he must leave the Port Mafia altogether and marry dazai and bear his kids

Oh did I mention this was omegaverse????

Not rlly bc it has nothing to do with scents or mating cause honestly I'm not feeling it

It's just an ideal world (where men can get pregnant as they SHOULD)

Anyway the game is called "Disappearing Dazai" it's a game dazai invented for this situation

The way it works is that each player is given a set of doors

These doors have a small plastic box behind them where you can store something inside

There are six doors each in a color from the rainbow and arranged as such

Then the player whose turn is first is given a small ceramic dazai doll

While the other player has their back turned and a blindfold on for extra precautions, the other will hide the Disappearing Dazai in one of the doors

Then the other player must turn around and take off the blindfold and try to guess which door holds the dazai doll

While chuuyas back is turned he focuses on the sounds of the door closing and the ceramic doll hitting the inside of the box

He hears it come from the left side

So when he turns around prepared to choose one of the doors on his now right side, he is surprised to see that the doors have been rearranged. Some are now on the opposite side, seemingly at random

Dazai says that the rules never mentioned rearranging the doors so it's definitely allowed

Confused and overthinking, chuuya chooses the wrong door

He stuck to his decision to thr sound coming from the right side and chooses an orange door, thinking that maybe dazai rearranged the doors first before inserting the doll

However, he is wrong

He realizes that the board they are playing on is made of velvet, which is a soft material that made him unable to hear the sound of the doors being rearranged

The truth was that dazai put the doll in the blue door, the one originally on chuuyas right, and then switched them after

Ok this is getting long and I'm too lazy to explain how the rest of the game goes so pretty much chuuya lost and now has to pay the price

He really doesn't want to and fights against it, but dazai tells him that no one in the pm respects him anymore after he lost to mori, and now his career in the mafia is forever stagnant at an underling position

He is no longer the strong and powerful chuuya nakahara, the gravity manipulator

He is now chuuya nakahara, the prideful idiot who bit too much than he could chew and lost pathetically

So now, since dazai is ever so generous, he gives chuuya a choice

He can remain in the mafia, however trapped in this unmoving, unpromotable state where he will never be respected again

Or he can obey dazai and willingly choose to live by his life plan, at least keeping his pride and erasing his embarrassing blunder from the past by cutting ties with the mafia altogether

And since I'm a silly lil fanfic writer ofc he chooses the life plan

From there it's kind of fuzzy with how I plan to keep it going buuuttt at least I got this much figured out

I wanna actually write this properly in fanfic form but I just made this to get the idea out there, see if people like it, get feedback, and so that when I do write it, I have a guide I can look at so I don't forget everything haha

BTW I had this idea at like 12 am last night while I was supposed to be sleeping so there might be some plot holes or something wrong with the logic

I'm especially worried about the logic of the game since I am nowhere smart enough to think of something actually on the kakegurui level

So anyway ya!! Watch kakegurui if u haven't since that's what this au is based on and if u know it you might understand the story better

Also it's got girls orgasming everywhere so....idk ur feelings abt that......

Anyway tell me what u think!! I'd love to get ur feedback and fix whatever mistakes I made!!

[memethebum]

Got a new oneshot posted that’s semi spicy hehe 🌶️🫣

————————————————————————

If there was a list of things that’d make Soul’s body feel like it was being set ablaze, he’d never guess that making out with Maka Albarn would ever be made a reality.

However, that action seemed to occurring a lot recently and the fact that they were locking lips in his own personal backrooms made the situation feel even more bewildering.

The Deathscythe felt as if he was slowly sinking in passion at the present, with the steadfast grip Maka’s hands had on his Black Room suit adding to the experience until he realized she was actually toppling over and taking him down with her.

“Ah-ah fuck Maka, you ok?” Soul questioned while he pushed the velvet curtain shadowing his head away with a quick swat of his hand.

Wait, if we fell through the curtains, that must mean…he then thought, only to watch as Maka flipped around and began to take in their surroundings.

“You never told me there was more to this place?” the young woman quipped before turning her head to face him.

“There’s not much here. It’s kinda like the backlog of my inner self of whatever the fuck that main room is made of,” Soul then explained as he jabbed a finger at the Black Room proper behind them.

“The backlog?” Maka murmured before suddenly getting up and venturing further into the area, earning her a guffaw from Soul.

“I’m tellin’ ya’, there’s nothing interesting back here so let’s just go dance to something-“ the Deathscythe attempted to explain, only to jump in surprise once he heard the screech of a harp Maka had grazed her hands against.

The young woman then regarded him with an apologetic look before it mellowed out into an inquisitive one a moment later.

“My father thought it’d be cool for me n’ Wes to learn ta’ play random instruments. I actually kinda liked playin’ the harp but…” Soul explained before his voice began to slowly trail off as he recalled trembling under his father’s seething gaze after not playing on the same level as Wes.

“Sorry…” Maka murmured, pulling the Deathscythe out of the memory just in time to see his meister walk towards him with a solemn expression.

“I shouldn’t have just started prodding around like that,” the young woman added, eliciting a sigh out of Soul.

“Nah, s’ fine. It’s not as if I’m tryin’ to run from the bad stuff anymore,” Soul replied as he felt Maka’s palms begin to rest against his cheeks before he looked down and gave her an encouraging nod.

The Deathscythe then began to lead her through the differing knickknacks he had collected around the room, which ultimately spurred into them making out once more.

It was then that Soul noticed a narrow doorway situated at the corner of the room, probing Maka into peppering another chaste kiss onto his lips and then turning around to see what had suddenly piqued his interest.

The young woman then regarded him with an arched eyebrow before he raised his shoulders into a shrug and began to walk towards the cryptic entryway.

It took no time for Soul to twist the ornate doorknob and fling the door open before feeling completely mortified at not being able to discern what laid within the room in advance.

The Deathscythe could hear Maka take in a breath as they both gazed upon the king sized bed sitting in the center of the room with a haphazard pile of rose petals leading from the doorway towards the fixture.

He could practically feel the silk black bedsheets which had been neatly splayed ontop the mattress and pillows like they would’ve been at every one of his family’s vacation homes. His thoughts then shifted to how the area had been tied together by the cerulean blue light emanating from the candles surrounding the bed, with the dancing flames almost seeming to taunt the pair to throw themselves into the room and get to business.

Soul then slammed the door shut, only to feel Maka’s palm come rest upon his knuckles a split second afterwards.

“Sorry, you shouldn’t-“

“I’ve thought about it too,” Maka added, probing Soul to release a low breath and watch as the young woman gave him a bashful smile in understanding.

“You’ve thought about doing it…with me?” the Deathscythe questioned, earning him a snort from Maka.

“What, did I actually kiss you silly? Of course I’ve wanted it to be with you and only you Soul! So, you don’t need to hide it from me,” the young woman then urged while tightening her grip upon his hand, which remained glued to the doorknob.

“Actually…” Maka then added, triggering a mutual thought between the pair.

“You actually…” Soul replied before immediately noticing the sly smile that’d immediately plastered onto the young woman’s face.

“It looks like that room is just sitting there collecting dust, so why not? Only-only if you’re up for it too, of course,” the young woman exclaimed while leaning forward and beginning to circle one of her deft fingers around the thick cloth covering his chest.

Me, her, us havin’ sex in my mind??? the Deathscythe then thought, only to feel his mind go completely blank when he tried to think of any reason as to not initiate another form of intimacy with someone he’d sacrifice himself for in a heartbeat.

“Maka, I just-I can’t promise I can make it ta’ home base-“

“It doesn’t matter to me. I want whatever makes us both happy,” Maka then interjected, causing Soul to level his scarlet pupils with her emerald ones and find a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

He was able to chase away her worries about him by quickly slanting his lips against hers once more, probing the young woman to let out a throaty hum and deepen the kiss.

They continued their fervent clashing before the Deathscythe felt Maka bite his lower lip and begin to tousle her hand around for the door knob, allowing the pair to push past the doorway a moment afterwards.

Soul then unclapsed his lips from hers for a split second, only for the young woman to fling him against the edge of the empty doorway a moment later.

He could practically feel Maka’s heart thump against his chest as they both took in a few shallow breaths before she broke the small interlude with a coy smile.

Soul couldn’t help but release a giggle at the action while the young woman began to run her palms against his stubble and then pull him down for another set of kisses.

Their lips danced to the familiar rhythm they’d created until Maka slowly trailed her lips against his jaw before eventually nibbling against the crux of his neck, causing Soul to wonder if there’d be any physical traces of their escapades afterwards.

“Hahh…” the Deathscythe stammered out as he felt Maka shirk his vest across his shoulders, eliciting him to envelop her into his arms.

The young woman then let out a startled gasp from the sudden action before Soul lifted her up and into his arms.

“Can’t let ya’ have all the fun,” Soul explained while sprinting across the room and throwing them onto the plush mattress.

The Deathscythe then gazed down to see Maka giggling in his arms, probing him to let out a low laugh of his own before resting his fingers against her chin and feeling her lips against his once more.

The young woman immediately let out a low moan before teasing her tongue against Soul’s teeth, eliciting him to groan in response while feeling her hands sink into his misshapen locks of hair in order to push his lips further against hers.

“Mm…you ok?” Maka eventually breathed out as they pulled apart, allowing Soul to discern how flushed her face had already become from their lip locking.

“Yea…” the Deathscythe replied, although he slowly became much too preoccupied with planting a trail of kisses down Maka’s neck.

The young woman’s hands then moved to pull against Soul’s hair once more after he began to gently run his teeth against the sleek end of her shoulder blade, only for him to buck in pain a split second later due to the end of her heel clashing against his knee.

“S-sorry!” Maka squeaked out as the Deathscythe reached down to rub his hand against the appendage.

“S’ alright. It didn’t hurt that bad,” Soul exclaimed before releasing a huff and beginning to kick his own shoes off his feet.

“Here, lemme just…” he continued while stretching out a hand to Maka, who let out an intrigued hum before sliding her fingers against his and allowing him to lead her towards the edge of the bed.

The Deathscythe then got onto his knees in front of the young woman, causing his heart to beat erratically as he gently began to loosen the binds of her heels and toss the footwear to the side.

He then dared a glance up at Maka, who simply gazed at him with an intensity he’d feel everytime they’d initiate sloppy makeouts or litter the other’s skin with love bites.

His hands began to gently rest against the satin texture of Maka’s dress before he slowly began to pull it upwards, allowing him to take in the heavenly expanse of her legs beneath the fabric.

The wavering rhythm of his heartbeat became an afterthought as soon as he placed a kiss against one of Maka’s knee and felt her let out an approving hum at where this was headed.

Soul then allowed her dress to spill from one of his hands so he could run small reverent circles against each patch of skin that was left behind while he continued to trail a set of kisses against both of the young woman’s legs.

It only took a few more pecks across Maka’s toned thighs for him to notice her lacy gray panties, which ignited his restlessness once more.

He slowly trailed his lips against her inner thigh before placing a languid kiss just inches away from her sensitive spot.

The sigh Maka released seemed to be instantaneous, allowing Soul to release a shallow breath against her quivering hips.

“Death, don’t stop,” Maka groaned before he felt one of her hands reach out and claw against his shoulder.

The Deathscythe let out a hum in understanding as he shifted the dress up towards her chest, allowing him a moment to caress his hands against her firm hips and trail a set of kisses up the length of her bare stomach and row of toned abs.

He then finally helped Maka pull the bunched fabric of the dress over her head and off her body, causing his breath to hitch while she let out a giggle and began to run her hands through her unruly locks of hair.

“You’re-you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Soul sighed while slowly taking in the weight of just how ethereal his meister looked partially naked above him.

His eyes slowly trailed over her smooth flesh and supple muscles once more, allowing his mind to solidify the thought of how a goddess could be in the same room as his meister and his heart would still know who to knell before and worship with his entire body and soul.

“You’re too good to me,” Maka then sighed before she reached out and stroked one of her hands against his cheek.

“Could say the same bout’ you,” Soul replied while taking the young woman’s hand and gently pressing his lips onto her knuckles, only to feel her grip both his hands and snake them towards her back as an invitation to unclasp her bra.

His hands jittered against her spine for a moment before the bra fell into his hands, earning him a sigh from Maka as she stretched her back once her soft tufts of pale skin and pert nipples were completely set free from the undergarment.

A brief silence then passed between the pair before the Deathscythe tentatively began to knead one of the young woman’s breasts, probing her to shift against him once more.

His mouth dipped down to take Maka’s other nipple into his mouth as he felt her arch into his touch, causing him to speed up his prodding in order to show her just how much he wanted to beat the crap out of his younger self for chastising her simply because he was too much of a coward to admit how beautiful he thought she was.

He then felt Maka’s hands begin to pull his head away from her quivering figure, allowing him to pause and take in a few heaving breaths.

“Was-was that good?” Soul sighed out as he began to plant a few kisses around the young woman’s neck.

“Yea…more than that. It was great!” Maka replied while she ran her fingers against the small peek of Soul’s bare chest, causing him to suck in a breath as she slid off his dress jacket and tossed the crimson shirt next to it after she’d stripped him down to his boxers.

Her arms then wrapped around his waist and hoisted him ontop of her.

“Do you want me to return the favor or…” the young woman questioned as Soul felt a warmth begin to settle within his chest once his body stilled against hers.

“Nah, maybe not this time…” the Deathscythe responded before feeling Maka let out a sigh underneath him.

“I know, it’s lame….I’m sorry I can’t give ya’-“

“Don’t apologize! I was only asking because I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. And Death, the only reason this feels so good is because you’re doing it with me,” Maka exclaimed, causing Soul to let out a thoughtful chuckle and allow his hands to run against her arms.

He then felt the young woman glide one of her hands along the back of his neck, which served as a precursor to the row of pinpricks which began to form around the end of his scalp once their lips molded into another heated kiss.

His hands wasted no time sliding against each bend of her collarbones before slowly working towards her breasts, eliciting Maka to gasp against his lips as his fingers danced against her soft flesh.

The action allowed the Deathscythe to break the kiss and lower his gaze towards Maka’s panties, only to feel her clasp her hands against his own a moment later.

His gave her a thoughtful gaze for a split second before his shaky hands began to tug down the undergarment from her hips, leaving him a clear view of how much their ministrations had been working on her.

“You…still good?” Soul coughed out as he massaged his hand against one of Maka’s thighs, earning him a huff while she slid her legs against his torso.

“Yes! At least, I’ll definitely be once you hurry this up a bit…if you want to of course,” Maka giggled while leveling her eyes towards him, probing the Deathscythe to let out a chuckle as well.

“I’m happy with whatever my meister wants,” Soul then responded before planting a small peck below her stomach.

He then began to rub against her entrance with a few swipes of his finger, probing Maka to let out a low moan before he moved his finger into her warmth.

“Don’t stop!” the young woman exclaimed as her own fingers shot downwards to tightly grasp Soul’s hair, causing him to stretch out another finger and start a steady pace with his appendages.

He could feel his own body become light from the experience, almost as if Maka was wielding him in the midst of battle.

The Deathscythe then felt himself get tethered to the moment once more as Maka’s stronghold upon his scalp shifted towards one of his hands, probing him to add his thumb into the shaky but ardent symphony he’d created.

“Oh, oh Death, I love you!” Maka exclaimed, causing Soul’s throat to tighten while he gazed into the ethereal glow of her mossy pupils against the blue candlelight.

He then rested his head against hers, focusing on nothing but their erratic heartbeats shooting out in place before Maka’s hands came crashing down onto his back with a final buck from her hips onto his fingers.

They collided in a lethargic manner for a few moments until the young woman allowed Soul to pull away with a quick kiss onto his lips.

The Deathscythe then let out a low huff before slumping onto the bed beside Maka, causing him to notice the steady rise and fall of her chest as she began to regain her composure.

“You..did you finish?” Soul questioned while he felt the young woman’s breath ghost against his chest once she planted her face next to his heart.

“Mhmmm, and it felt amazing! Was it…alright to you?” Maka replied, probing the Deathscythe to let out a chuckle before snaking a hand across her spine.

“Yea, it kinda felt like we were resonating,” Soul added, probing the young woman to let out an amused hum of her own.

The pair then nuzzled against one another in a comfortable silence, only for it be broken by the sound of Soul fidgeting around the covers in order to gaze down at Maka.

“Hey Maka,” the Deathscythe whispered before the young woman let out a sigh in response.

“I-I love you. Sorry for…not sayin’ it sooner,” Soul added while hearing the soft swish of fabric rustle under him before Maka bore her eyes on him once more, with the gentle grip of her palm against his scar serving as the only gesture he needed to know she understood the weight behind those words.

[love-anteros]

music taste of the ouran host club ᐟᐟ☆ .ᐟ

—personal ouran headcanons ♡ —some taylor swift hc inspo from @cold-heart-warm-writings

haruhi fujioka

definitely a mitski girlie.

fav songs off mitski’s discography: “my love mine all mine,” “first love / late spring,” “class of 2013,” “once more to see you”

tamaki always recommends taylor swift songs to them; ends up enjoying folklore (“invisible string,” “august”) 

hc from tiktok (@/gyuldangie): tamaki told them that “when emma falls in love” reminded him of their relationship, and haruhi says that the song’s just ok. he later sees the song saved on her favorite playlist … :)

also enjoys ichiko aoba & lamp

tamaki pays for their duo spotify premium account ♡

exchanges song recommendations w kaoru; definitely has a few phoebe songs on their playlists

listens to red velvet w hani on occasion 

tamaki suoh

hardcore swiftie. definitely bought front row seats + backstage passes for the eras tour and begged the entire host club to accompany him.

speak now + lover stan, loves a few songs off rep, 1989, & fearless 

“haruhi, do you think taylor thought of me when she wrote ‘king of my heart’ & ‘gorgeous’ ?~ “

“i absolutely believe that taylor pictured our beloved romance when she wrote lover, haruhi .ᐟ~”

fav songs off taylor’s discography: “lover,” “paper rings,” “you are in love,” “speak now,” “enchanted,” “love story”

also likes other pop artists: katy perry (“teenage dream,” “california girls”) harry styles (“adore you”)

a bit of classical piano mixed into his playlist; immediate jump from taylor to chopin when his spotify is on shuffle

he is absolutely a laufey fan .ᐟ (dedicated the entire bewitched album to haruhi … )

listens to a bit of mitski b/c of haruhi: “ hm … i think that ‘my love mine all mine’ reminds me of you, my lovely haruhi :) “

enjoys tv girl & ricky montgomery recs from haruhi: “lovers rock,” “mr. loverman,” “my heart is buried in venice,” “boy toy,” “line without a hook” ♡

hani introduced him to kpop, & he absolutely loves a few svt, nct, & txt songs .ᐟ — “perfume,” “to you,” “imperfect love,” “light a flame,” “way home”

hikaru hitachiin 

frank ocean, tyler the creator, the weeknd 

“white ferrari,” “are we still friends,” “ivy,” “super rich kids,” “new magic wand,” “escape from la,” “foreword” .ᐟ

kaoru introduced him to rex orange county; likes “corduroy dreams,” “uno,” “open a window”

that one scene where hikaru comforts haruhi during the thunder storm? his headphones were def playing “sunflower” by rex orange county 

kaoru hitachiin

phoebe bridgers, gracie abrams ☼

“i know it won’t work,” “i know the end,” “kyoto,” “motion sickness,” “garden song,” “where do we go now?”

likes a few taylor songs from red + folklore

a sucker for “all too well” — 10 minute ver.

absolutely sobbed to “i guess” by mitski; recommended by haruhi °˖➴ (“i guess this is the end / i’ll have to learn / to be somebody else / it’s been you and me / since before i was me / without you, i don't yet know / quite how to live”)

kyoya ootori 

matt maltese .ᐟ

tamaki learned how to play the piano part of “when you wash your hair” for kyoya’s birthday ♡

fav songs from matt maltese’s discography: “as the world caves in,” “everyone adores you (at least i do),” “krystal,” “smile in the face of the devil,” “little person”

definitely does NOT cry & think about tamaki when he listens to “wish you’d ask me” .ᐟ

… secretly enjoys twice & attended a concert w hani + mori; mina bias 

small crush on yeonjun from txt

listens to mac demarco w haruhi (“one more love song,” “for the first time,” “heart to heart”)

a few classical piano songs recommended by tamaki on his favorite playlist ♡ 

mitsukuni "hani" haninozuka 

diehard twice stan.

nayeon + momo bias 

also likes loona (esp chuu .ᐟ) & txt

♡ “blue hour” (& the other songs on minisode1: blue hour), “pop,” “heart attack,” “love countdown,” “chocolate” (day6), “polaroid love”

definitely doxxed a 12 yr. old b/c they said that nayeon flopped w her solo debut °˖➴ (he already didn’t have enough sleep that day after trying to get twice concert tickets all night … )

tried listening to kanye during his middle school “tough guy” phase … hated it.

listens to taylor every now & then w tamaki; fearless & speak now stan

takashi "mori" morinozuka 

looks like he’d be the type of guy to listen to frank ocean & tyler the creator … listens to the most basic music in existence. (still love mori, though .ᐟ )

… imagine dragons 

listened to “high hopes” by p!atd on loop.

probably likes some drake songs 

listens to kpop w hani though & takes him to concerts; hani would sit on top of his shoulders so he could see the stage

—+ regardless of their diverse music tastes, they all bond over olivia rodrigo & definitely had a sleepover where they listened to the entire guts album ♡

—+ also, ik that ouran takes place in the early 2000s & they definitely wouldn't be listening to modern western music + kpop, but oh well .ᐟ (this is just a reflection of my own music taste, i think ... )

[pilferingapples]

   ah that bit in every Romanticist bio where we gotta get the who's who as the author sees it (all this is from the Fourth Musketeer)

At the Café de Paris, on the boulevard, Alexander breathed the air of the great world. There the celebrities of journalism, literature, and dandyism met.

...this gets long

That man with the warlike hat and blinking eyes' is Nestor Roqueplan who has now left his garret, his washbasin-clock and his pistols-candelabra for the comfortable offices of the Figaro.

OK was this before/after/during its time as an anti-Romanticist paper??

Next him is Jules Janin, who looks comfortably rotund but thinks only of snapping at his neighbor, and who will later fight a duel with Dumas about a wretched question of dramatic criticism.

JULES JANIN DUELED ALEX DUMAS?? ...JULES JANIN DUELES ALEX DUMAS AND LIVED?!?

That fellow by way of being a gentleman, dressed with the correctness of an English lord in a blue coat with gold buttons, a yellow waistcoat, and pearl-gray trousers, is the husband of Marie Dorval, Merle, one of the legitimist party, an epicure and an authority on gastronomy.

..wait, isn't that outfit a Werther cosplay? Am I getting the colors wrong?

. . Over at the long table, orating in a high voice, with his face awkwardly swathed in an enormous neckcloth to hide certain unpleasant scars, is Veron, nicknamed the Prince of Wales, actually the manager of the Revue de Paris, who pays Dumas royally, at least for the time being. With his high color, his greedy lips that look as if they were smeared with jam, and his gluttonous eyes, he seems at once an abbot of former times and a comedy valet.

This guy is way more important than you'd guess by how little he shows up in histories! Also he got his start in patent medicine, which is really jumping out at me post-Blue Castle read!

     That tall, thin, dark man, with hair cut brush-shaped and a prominent nose, wearing a velvet caftan and a cap lined with martin fur, is Adolphe de Leuven, librettist of the Postillon de Lonjumeau, who launched Alexander. By his side, flaunting a magnificent kidskin waistcoat and whirling his rhinoceros cane, is handsome Roger de Beauvoir, with a mop of curly black hair, the only one of Alexander's friends who is an aristocrat of wealth-Beauvoir who entertains six hundred people at the Hôtel de Pimodan, and who has just challenged Balzac for accusing him of being named neither Roger nor Beauvoir. Although Balzac took the trouble to send him "forty pages of excuses," the dandy will listen to nothing and proclaims: "I scorn M. de Balzac's prose, I want only his skin!"

holy shit Balzac you messed up??

     Here is Eugène Sue, very smart in his sea-green coat, with a rather vulgar turn of the nose that detracts from his good looks. Last, simpler and jollier than the rest, is that good fellow Méry who passes for a librarian at Marseilles, but who is always off on a lark to Paris; an amazing improviser who can compose correctly an act of a classical tragedy within two hours, and in the drawing-rooms describe the tortures of hell so vividly that the ladies beg for mercy.

Fun new party game: Describe the tortures of hell!

     Near these gentlemen, but on a lower plane, the madmen appear. "He who was Gannot" and has made himself God under the name Mapah, is a fop and a billiard player now fallen on evil days who sends out manifestos signed "By Our Apostolic Ruin."

The Mahpah is one of the wildest ...visionaries? religious ...somethings? movement leaders? of the time, love seeing him get mentioned (Wiki) (Nonbinary wiki)

Jean Journet, called the Apostle, goes about dressed as a begging friar and sells his verses unfailingly entitled "Songs" or "Cries."

...I have no idea who this is . Sounds like he's coping with poverty very artistishly.

Poor Petrus Borel imagines himself to be a wolf; at his house Alexander has eaten cream from a skull. . . .

excuse you he never said he was a wolf he said he was a werewolf and no one actually disagreed also man,you serve ice cream in skulls ONE time...

         ...you might see (Dumas) in the rue Grange-Batelière, in the salon of the dancer Marie Taglioni, "the sylph of sylphs," or at Delphine de Girardin's on the days when she recited her poems. But Alexander always grew sentimental near "the Muse" and asked her to receive him in private. "I love you," he said, "with an affection too selfish to share you with the world." Then, when they were alone together, she would interrupt him with questions about dramatic art. "Do tell me how one writes for the theater?" Dumas laughed at what he called "the naïveté of genius."      He was attractive to women, there was no doubt of that, even to the most distrustful of them. When Sainte-Beuve, who was fond of playing the rôle of intermediary, proposed to introduce Alfred de Musset to George Sand, she answered: "I don't want you to bring Alfred de Musset. He's too much of a dandy, we should never get along together. . . . Instead of him, do bring Alexander Dumas, in whose art I have found a soul, exclusive of his talent." Alexander came and Sand took a great liking to him.

Wow, imagine if George Sand had ever hung out with Musset What a disaster that would have been huh in that alternate world ><

[ratwavegamehouse]

Terminal and the Inspirations from Other Places

Around the start of the month I did a big post on Terminal and how the Matrix inspired it as well as generally espounding on my thoughts around influence, pastiche, and analogues. I found it interesting, and some people enjoyed reading it, so I figured I'd do a post on all the other things that inspired Terminal.

Ok, almost definitely not covering all the other things. But some of them. The big ones maybe. Or the thing that are easiest for me to explain.

(This will also involve previewing some of the full game. Any art in this post is by Gormengeist and any completed layout was done by me, while any text will have been written by me and edited by Alyssa.)

Let's start of by sharing the Inspirations and Influences pages from the book itself.

Some of these will only probably ever make sense to me, and that's fine, that's how creating things goes. I won't go linearly, I guess I'll go in order of what seems important. At least to start, I'll probably end up following some whims.

Black Sails/Treasure Island

I think this is something I got asked on both The Weekly Scroll, by Zach on This is Your Lifepath, and also just by people. "Why'd you add pirates?"

I actually tried looking through some notepads where I first jotted down ideas to see if I recorded my actual thought process as it happened. No dice. "Zion as Pirates" is one of the earliest notes I have.

I think my early logic was about avoiding just doing a complete 1-2-1 of how reality was in the Matrix. First this just started as "I don't wanna do the sun blocked out thing and the energy stuff" and I think that evolved into the shattered moon and flooded Earth which made arriving at pirates logical; sailing the seas rather than jetting around underground tunnels.

It was in righting and exploring these early ideas I found a resonance with pirates that made me excited to make that such a core part of the book; themes about rejecting society and civilization, loyalty among a crew, the idea of being an outlaw, the Robot Authority as the British Navy.

Being honest the line I often used of "The Matrix x Black Sails" was more using Black Sails as a touchstone to convey an idea, rather than crediting for my conception of pirates. It speaks to a pirate epic and the focus on pirates creating a home.

Libertatia was down as the placeholder name "Pirate Island" for much longer than you'd expect (I think I had some crews written at this time but nothing about the setting). Someone suggested the name when I asked for ideas and doing some research the pirate legend ended up informing the development of the setting. Libertatia is implicitly anarcho-communist rather than the more heirachy based structure of Zion seen in the Matrix films.

I also like how this created such a different relationship with your home setting that the one in Inevitable, the books system influence which focuses on protecting a kingdom. In Inevitable you are given quests by your king, or more often the king's advisors, and you're an agent of a crumbling monarchy. In Terminal people suggest things that someone should deal with but none of the NPCs have any authority or ability to command your characters, you have to choose to listen to them.

Twin Peaks/Lost Highway/Blue Velvet

I'll go to this next as it was the third influence that got shouted out in articles. The answer to "why" Lynch was such an influence is basically that I'm a fan and so his work is on my mind frequently enough that it's a common influence.

The sort of eery dream-logic is part of the influence, though that also draws from lots of other things. I notice dream logic or living dreams are a recurrent theme in a lot of my work, which is interesting for someone who never remembers any dreams. The way your dreams are walked through by sinister forces was definitely aping some of Fire Walk with Me.

The inclusion of doppelgangers, of yourself, of people you love, people who loved you, that's coming from the Return for sure. It's also hitting a theme of embracing your own imperfections and messiness as some of these antagonist doppelgangers are explicitly versions built around expectations characters couldn't or wouldn't live up to.

The Puppeteer, a villainous program who strives to manipulate people emotions to inflict psychological torture, has some of the Mystery Man from Lost Highway in him as well as the Man from Another Place's desire for armonbozia" (pain and sorrow). The fact that The Seer, our prophetic program who serves as a tense pirate ally, is always met on a lost highway is more in the realm of a reference.

The Crash, the name for Terminal's major story arcs, Tortures of the Killer combines a lot of Lynch influence. The Killer has influences from Frank from Blue Velvet and BOB from Twin Peaks though without the sexual violence being a major aspect of the character, instead the Killer's focus is in blackmail and threats. The video tape element draws from Lost Highway while the setting of that scenario draws on Blue Velvet as well.

A pair of linked characters, The Arm and someone more mysterious, are another thing more in the realm of reference rather than attempted analogue. I think the big influence for those characters is my own interest in the ideas of partitioning off aspects of yourself, and then having to deal with those aspects brought to life, because of some of my personal experience.

Paprika

Paprika was the fourth big influence I explicitly shouted out in marketing. This relates to the dream hopping element.

In Terminal freeing someone from the simulation involves delving into their dreams and guiding them to a door they must open to wake themselves up. The reason I came up with this was that basically because of how the red pill/blue pill symbolism got used after the release of the Matrix I felt I needed to avoid anything to close to that. Dream delving came to me probably because of my aforementioned fixation on dreams in fiction, and also the way that distinction between dreaming and waking is so blurred in Neo's early life.

It also put me in the mind of Paprika, which in turn influenced the Crash The Dying Dream, specifically the Dream Parade influenced a lot of how that developed. I think following a whim I'll do a section on all the stuff that ended up combo-ing to form this Crash, cause it's maybe an interesting insight into how I wrote.

The Dying Dream

My memory isn't super exact but I recall the early writing process in Terminal, once the big central idea and themes were sketched out, involved some jotted down ideas for Crashes and then I ended up writing a big list of characters. I think I wrote a document of routine programs, a document of obsolete programs, a document of Robot Authority characters, a document of Special Agents (at that time called officers) and a document of pirates. I think with some characters written I began combining them with Crash ideas that i started writing in full.

There was a lot of jumping around. This wasn't an linear process at all. There were some ideas for Crashes that could quashed and then ended up creating other parts of the story (initially finding the Omen was a Crash and they were going to be an NPC, quashing that Crash came with jumping to writing the stuff about characters becoming Omen, together). I interrupted this to properly sketch out Libertatia and with that came a lot of new pirates. I think there's a chance the Hedonist has an associated Crash at some point before I decided I liked her better as an a sort-of-not-really ally.

Anyway when I wrote the Special Agents I had a few ideas; a "standard" agent who exposed the ways other deviated, a agent deliberately created as a woman to poke at gender-based hang-ups some characters could have, 0 our agent-turned-malware and then a pair of agents; one who'd been corrupted and deleted and their partner who's reaction to this was question everything they thought they knew.

(The reason I initially named the Special Agents Officers was to make them seem a little further away from the Matrix agents, but once I decided on this angle with a character questioning their role I enjoyed the wordplay in fact that the agents lack agency so renamed them.)

So I had this pair but no idea what Crash they'd end up in. The Archivist was an early Crash, the idea for Multipled by 0 came early on, "hacked pirates" was the note that lead Corruptions of The Passenger. But I was a little stuck on Crashes full stop and none of them served as a home for these two agents, and I wanted these two in the book.

I ended up thinking about Inevitable and what purpose the story arcs, called Dooms there, played. The Tower Wizards Doom takes your cadre into the dangerous Wizard's Bluff to retrieve a dangerous artefact that's crash landed there. I tried to think of what a Crash could look like where the threat wasn't a specific character but a situation.

This brought me to the Dream Parade from Paprika and so I settled on a dying dreamer's nightmares corrupting a domain. The corrupted agent I had in my notes (Special Agent 7) got changed to have been corrupted by this situation and their partner (Special Agent 5) had a place as a possible obstruction, ally, or strange encounter.

Figuring out what the artefact at the centre of the Dying Dream was was part of what lead to Transmit, the last Omen, emerging as such a major character (the other thing that contributed to this was the need for the Omen code to have been modified) and that lead to a hidden story arc in the book that reflects some of the core themes about the power of positive connection being able to save you from people who want to control you and make you feel crazy.

Some Smaller Inlfuences, Explained as Well as I Can

The Wizard of Oz is on the list partly for doppelgangers, but also partly for the way its influence is felt in The Matrix and David Lynch's work (hence Lynch/Oz, the video essay film, being included). It's also there because the character of The Wizard, an obsolete program with the power of recognition, the ability to see what's already there, is an extended Wizard of Oz joke.

Inception is there because of dream hopping, even though my version of dreams is much more Paprika than Inception.

Stuff like Fallen Angels, Taxi Driver, and Fight Club are there for a mood that I was channelling in writing at certain points. I find making these lists interesting, when I do them, because I could restrict to to the obvious, explainable stuff, but personally I like including things where my only explanation was "I was thinking of it while writing and maybe that bled in".

Pacific Rim is there because the description of drift compatibility and the neural handshake influenced the way I described becoming the Omen and connecting your hearts to share the code. (I do find it interesting which things I knew were influencing me as i was writing - Matrix, Twin Peaks, Paprika, etc - vs things I only really noticed after the fact like this Pacific Rim influence).

I mentioned in the Matrix influences post that The Hedonist was partly influenced by Carrie Ann Moss's character in Mass Effect 2. That's part of why that's on the list. The other thing is that the eventual way I settled on travel (a map for the Wake with various mind docks that you travel to via sea and then plug you into different domains) was partly influenced by the way the overworld space travel worked in the game.

Transistor influenced depictions of certain places; the inner workings of the Terminal, corrupted domains on the verge of system crash. Additionally it was something that I think, this is a part in reflection, influenced two character's relationship.

Metal Gear Solid was an influence of the tagline "Digital Pirate Action", I think there were other reasons I added it to the list though I can't recall them right now.

Finding Yeezus, a pop culturual investigate docu series about the creator of a viral ARG game, is on the list for being part of what got me thinking about the Matrix again so much.

The music list is mainly music I listened to while writing, in some cases certain lyrics felt very resonant to me.

Monsterhearts and Apocalypse World are there, and there together, because there's an optional move around physical intimacy and in developing that I read back over the sex moves in both games.

Dream Askew and Dream Apart is credited because of how the "Pick questions to ask left and right" technique became a big part of character creation.

Orbital Blues is there as it influenced some of the ship creation stuff.

Influence Comes from Lots of Places

So like I said a YouTube series is there because it was part of what got me thinking about the Matrix again. It wasn't the main thing though. That was because my therapist at the time used multiple Matrix metaphors with me in sessions. (I managed to resist replying to her first question of "Have you seen the Matrix?" with "Yeah, I'm trans" and I'll never get enough credit for that).

I like learning about the things that inspire people. I do a whole podcast about, so you'd hope that's the case. But I know that's not always as clear cut as influences from other works of art. That's a big thing, obviously, and it's a thing that can help with marketing in a way that talking therapy doesn't. But this life stuff is also pretty huge.

This is the title page for Terminal (subject to change, credits for the stretch goal writers need to be added in). I think the thanks are as important, honestly more important, in terms of saying what made the book what it is. In many ways Terminal is a break-up album. If it's a love letter to anything it's to my best friend before it's to the Matrix. It's about the way I've felt crazy, and against the people who wanted me to feel that way. One of the domains is a thinly veiled Canary Wharf because that's a place I really hate. Also auteur theory is bullshit and the book is also only what it is because of Gormengeist and Alyssa in combination with me.

When it comes out I hope people like it, and I sincerely believe this book is great and enjoying it doesn't rely on understanding any of the things I've spent two overly-long tumblr posts going on about.

“The connection we share is deeper than the sea, realer than blood and tougher than steel blades. It’s the connection you feel when you look at someone and know that you are the same, that they’re one of yours and you’re one of theirs.” - Ariadne

[high-school-loser]

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!

Chapter 2.

AN: Fangz 2 bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da chapta! BTW preps stop flaming ma story ok!

The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

"OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!" she said excitedly.

"Yeah? So?" I said, blushing.

"Do you like Draco?" she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

"No I so fucking don't!" I shouted.

"Yeah right!" she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." I replied flirtily.

"Guess what." he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade." he told me.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God!" I screamed. I love GC. They are my favorite band, besides MCR.

"Well…. do you want to go with me?" he asked.

I gasped.

[real-winn-dixie]

Chapter 1.

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!

Chapter 2.

AN: Fangz 2 bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da chapta! BTW preps stop flaming ma story ok!

The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

"OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!" she said excitedly.

"Yeah? So?" I said, blushing.

"Do you like Draco?" she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

"No I so fucking don't!" I shouted.

"Yeah right!" she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." I replied flirtily.

"Guess what." he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade." he told me.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God!" I screamed. I love GC. They are my favorite band, besides MCR.

"Well…. do you want to go with me?" he asked.

I gasped.

Chapter 3.

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN RAVEN! oh yeah, BTW I don't own dis or da lyrics 4 Good Chralotte.

On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn't put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Draco was waiting there in front of his flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

"Hi Draco!" I said in a depressed voice.

"Hi Ebony." he said back. We walked into his flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Good Charlotte.

"You come in cold, you're covered in blood They're all so happy you've arrived The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom She sets you free into this life." sang Joel (I don't own da lyrics 2 dat song).

"Joel is so fucking hot." I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

"Hey, it's ok I don't like him better than YOU!" I said.

"Really?" asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

"Really." I said. "Besides I don't even know Joel and he's going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch." I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Draco. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn't go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into… the Forbidden Forest!

Chapter 4.

AN: I sed stup flaming ok ebony's name is ENOBY nut mary su OK! DRACO IS SOO IN LUV wif her dat he is acting defrent! dey nu eechodder b4 ok!

"DRACO!" I shouted. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

Draco didn't answer but he stopped the flying car and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.

"What the fucking hell?" I asked angrily.

"Ebony?" he asked.

"What?" I snapped.

Draco leaned in extra-close and I looked into his gothic red eyes (he was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing sorrow and evilness and then suddenly I didn't feel mad anymore.

And then… suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! " I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then….

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!"

It was….Dumbledore!

THANK YOU, THIS WAS. ERY FUNNY TO WAKE UP TO

[midnight-lumiere]

Frozen hearts

After unexpectedly getting trapped atop a Paris rooftop on a cold winter's night, Marinette and Chat Noir come to terms with feelings long suppressed.

words: 1207

It was Christmas Eve, which meant another routine patrol for Chat Noir. Walking the snow-covered streets of Paris had become an all-too-familiar pastime.

Chat Noir had just graduated from high school, and patrolling the city gave him a welcome break from the everyday struggles of adult life.

I know this city like the back of my hand! he thought to himself happily.

He walked up to his favorite bakery, Le Pâtisserie de Lune. Staring through the window, he noticed a new cupcake—red velvet.

Chat Noir decided to buy one for his friend Marinette, whose birthday was quickly approaching. This also gave him an excuse to seek refuge from the cold.

As he walked out of the bakery, he heard the unmistakable scream of a girl in distress. Chat Noir's staff was out in an instant.

Sprinting through the streets of Paris, Chat Noir honed in on the screams, jumping over taxis and sliding under buses as he got ever closer.

Chat Noir stopped dead in his tracks, looming tall in front of him was Marinette's apartment. A sense of dread filled his whole body. Go! Go! Go! he told himself.

Running up the stairs and barging through the roof access door, he saw Marinette. She was standing there with her arms and legs chained.

She desperately motioned to a place behind him, and he quickly rolled out of the way as a large muscular man, clearly under the influence of an Akuma, smashed into the ground right where Chat Noir had been standing.

With a quick twirl and throw of his staff, Chat Noir sent the man flying off the rooftop.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he voiced worriedly as he rushed over to break her bindings.

"I don't know, he just appeared behind me," Marinette said, understandably shaken from the whole ordeal. "I'm okay though, thank you."

Chat Noir noticed a small box sitting on the ground; it must have fallen out of the man's pocket when I hit him off, he thought to himself.

He reached his arm down to pick it up. Time seemed to slow down, and Marinette could be heard saying something behind him. Did I hear her say, "Don't pick it up?" he thought. But it was too late.

An explosion threw him back against the door, and he could feel his powers exiting his body. This time it was Marinette who ran up to him.

"ARE YOU OK?" she asked, kneeling down next to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you," Chat Noir groaned back.

He stood up. "What was that?" he wondered out loud.

A realization overcame him, and he knew for certain it was a Flamboleux. A device that renders a miraculous's power useless when activated. My touch must have activated the device, he concluded.

The sun was setting, and the temperature was dropping. They walked to the door and turned the handle, but nothing happened.

"The door mechanism probably broke when I was thrown against it," Chat Noir said.

They tried to open the door again, and again, and again, to no avail.

The snow was coming down even harder, and the temperature was quickly falling. Paris was facing an unprecedented Christmas storm. The Ministry of Weather had recently sent out a warning that most government operations would be closed due to the extreme conditions.

"What do we do?" Marinette exclaimed, clearly concerned. She particularly hated the cold. 

"I don't know," Chat Noir replied. "But we'll be okay, I promise."

Suddenly, Marinette remembered something. She desperately rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a neatly folded navy blue blanket. She had knitted it mere days earlier and had somehow completely forgotten about it until that very moment.

Chat Noir looked at her with surprise. "Wow, you really think of everything, don't you?"

Marinette's cheeks, already red from the cold, seemed to turn even rosier. "I guess a good superhero has to be prepared for any situation," she responded.

They stood there for a moment, both clearly seeing the dilemma at hand. There was only one blanket.

"Come on, this blanket is big enough for the two of us," Marinette said, sitting down with her back against a vent.

Chat Noir sat down next to her, and Marinette draped the blanket over both of them.

Immediately, they felt some relief from the bitter cold. But Marinette was still shivering uncontrollably, so they moved closer to each other.

The blanket acted as their very own impromptu shelter, their bodies providing warmth as they sat in silence, overlooking the city.

Marinette couldn't help but notice that Chat Noir was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"It's okay if you want to slee…" but before she could finish, he slumped over onto her, fast asleep.

She gently moved him so that they were both lying down. Chat Noir's head was resting on her chest. This was really the only practical position given the relatively small size of her blanket.

But Marinette did not mind this at all. Her feelings for him had grown considerably over the past several hours, and Chat Noir had evidently tired himself out from fighting the Akuma.

She examined his hair, some of which she could feel resting on her neck. Its texture was that of fine silk, and suddenly she had the urge to run her hands through it. How can a boy have such perfect hair? She wondered to herself.

Marinette was beginning to realize the full scope of Chat Noir's actions. How he had come out of nowhere and saved her from Akuma. How he had made sure she was okay.

Several hours later...

Chat Noir woke with a start. He immediately realized the placement of his head and the position they had found themselves in.

He quickly sat up. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me?" he asked.

Marinette blushed profusely. "I knew you were tired, and you saved me earlier. You really needed the rest."

Chat Noir smiled, understanding, and walked over to the door to check if anything had changed.

A tingle prodded at his heart, a feeling of something deeper, a feeling that could not be pinpointed nor named. As he felt Marinette's eyes watching him intently, all he knew was that this night had opened something new in his life, something he didn't know he needed...

Marinette started to shiver, and Chat Noir became aware of himself awkwardly standing there.

"Are you getting cold again?" he asked.

Marinette nodded. He could see a slight smile poking out from beneath her cold lips.

He quickly laid back down and wrapped his arms around her. His hands extinguished every ounce of cold.

They gazed out at the lights, basking in each other's warmth. Their hearts beat in tandem.

Paris gleamed below, the Eiffel Tower's spotlight slowly rotating, illuminating their rooftop every few minutes. During these precious moments of light, Marinette and Chat Noir gazed into each other's eyes before quickly looking away, embarrassed. Both coming to terms that this night had ignited something long building between them.

Chat Noir could feel his powers returning. “I think I can open the door,” he said quietly.

“Let's wait till morning,” Marinette whispered back. 

Chat Noir couldn’t agree more. 

“Would you like a cupcake?” he asked.

[melodyburst]

“IDK... This Mr. Bungle Song doesn’t sound finished...”

“What’s wrong with it, Mike Patton of Mr. Bungle Fantomas Faith no more and Peeping Tom?”

“It’s only like 5 minutes long!”

“How about we add like 2 minutes of you walking silently down the street and maybe every once in a while we hear you breathing?”

“That sounds ok I guess... but HOW will people know I like Blue Velvet and shit?”