#bulk crew necks

[holeforzenin]

The door creaked open with a heavy sigh, and there he was — your husband, toji. His shoulders were broad and slouched, heavy work bag slipping off his arm as he rubbed his neck with a low hiss, clearly worn out from his long shift. But the second his heavy boots crossed the threshold, a burst of giggles and tiny feet came barreling towards him.

“Daddy!!”

Your two boys—wild little 4 and 5-year-olds—practically tackled his legs, wrapping their small arms around his thighs like little baby koalas on a branch. They were both talking at once, babbling about their day, about the snacks you gave them, about the bug they found outside. Toji chuckled under his breath, eyes softening as he reached a heavy, calloused hand down to ruffle their messy hair.

And then came the waddling.

Your 1-year-old daughter, still a little unstable on her feet, made her way over with little squeaky steps, arms up in that wordless, universal baby plea: ‘Pick me up, Daddy’. She plopped herself right onto his boot, clinging on like it was her own little island while she blinked up at him with an adorably wide, gummy smile.

“Hey, hey,” Toji murmured, his voice rough from exhaustion but still thick with affection as always. “Look at my crew, huh? You guys miss me or something?”

The boys shouted “Yes!” while the baby just giggled, kicking her tiny feet against his shoe. Toji’s gaze finally flicked up to you, and the moment his eyes landed, they softened even more.

There you stood, hands resting on the curve of your swollen belly—round and glowing with your fourth little one on the way. The house was full, loud, chaotic, and growing but the sight of you carrying another piece of him made his chest ache in that familiar, overwhelming way. Like his heart couldn’t hold it all.

You made your way over too, smiling widely as you slipped your arms gently around his waist to hug him, careful with your belly pressing between you. “Welcome home, baby”.

He let out a low grunt, eyes warm as he watched you with love. “C’mere,” he rasped, and with that same easy strength, he scooped you up with one arm, making you squeal softly as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His other hand came down, palm wide and gentle as it cradled the back of your oldest son’s head, the way a father instinctively shields his kids. The younger boy and baby stayed hugging his legs and feet, all of you tangled around him like he was the center of your little world.

Which, really, he is.

“Hard day?” you whispered, forehead pressing against his as your hands settled against the solid bulk of his shoulders.

“Was, but now?” He exhaled against your skin while rubbing his nose on your cheek, voice full of quiet devotion. “S’perfect”.

He kissed you softly, careful of your belly between you while your kids stayed latched to him like little ducklings, the whole family wrapped around him—his safe little world.

Eventually, after several more minutes of standing there swarmed, he finally shuffled you all to the living room, groaning as he slowly lowered himself onto the couch with all of you still attached. “Alright, alright—lemme sit before you all break me”.

But sitting only made him more of a target.

You nestled yourself into his lap properly, your belly resting softly against his stomach as your arms draped around his big shoulders. Toji instinctively rubbed your back, his other hand settled gently on your bump, thumb idly tracing slow, loving circles.

“Hey, baby bean,” he murmured to your bump, voice going soft like it always did when he talked to the new little one inside you. “You giving Mommy a hard time today?”

You smiled sleepily, your head against his chest. “Not too bad. Just kicking a lot”.

The boys clambered onto the couch next. Your oldest was immediately fascinated with Daddy’s thick arms. “Whoa… your muscles are huge,” he said in awe, carefully rolling his toy car up and down Toji’s bicep like it was some kind of ramp. “Look, Mommy! It’s a race track!”

Toji smirked confidently, flexing slightly to make the car bump. “Hey now, don’t scratch me up, huh?”

Meanwhile, your younger boy wiggled his way to Toji’s hand, grabbing his large palm and carefully trying to crack his fingers like he’d seen Toji do so many times. “Lemme do it! Like this, Daddy?”

“Gentle, kiddo,” Toji laughed while letting him try. “You’ll break my whole hand”.

And your daughter—sweet little thing had wormed her way behind him on the couch, tiny fingers tangling gently into his dark hair. She giggled softly every time his hair tickled her palms. “Hairrr,” she babbled.

“You like Daddy’s hair, princess?” Toji tilted his head slightly toward her, voice so warm it could melt.

The whole scene made your heart ache in the best way—your big, strong husband surrounded and smothered by his kids, doting on all of you while you carried yet another life the two of you created inside of you.

“You’re getting attacked, baby,” you teased softly, tracing your fingertips along his jaw.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He kissed your forehead. “My whole world. Right here”.

You leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to his lips while your children happily continued their ‘assault,’ completely unaware how precious this moment was. Toji hummed into your kiss, hand still rubbing soothing circles over your belly like it was second nature now.

Eventually, when the kids started to tire themselves out a little, Toji leaned in close, voice dropping low just for your ears, lips brushing your temple.

“Later tonight… once these little monsters are finally asleep,” he murmured, voice warm with affection and a little husky with promise, “you’re gonna sit on my lap again, baby. Real close this time”.

You flushed instantly, biting your lip as you smiled. He grinned, watching your reaction with that same glint in his eyes, full of love and want.

But for now, he was perfectly happy, sinking deeper into the soft couch, into your warmth, into the pure, beautiful chaos of your growing family — his favorite place on earth.

[97linelover]

I wonder - Jeon Jungkook

summary: doing your sick friend a favour, which means helping out at jhopes concert does not prepare you for one person.

Jeon Jungkook.

The two of you had a hook up the night before he left for the military.

And now he’s back.

pairing: idol jungkook x reader

genre: smut, they re obssesed with each other, they’re just cute, jungkooks new tattoo is a huge topic

author's note: after yesterday’s concert I can’t stop thinking about it.

Y/N adjusted the last lighting filter backstage, fingers slightly trembling—not from stress, but from caffeine and five hours of sleep spread over two days.

The buzz of the concert crew was everywhere: stylists shouting, dancers stretching, cables tangling under hurried steps. She had been pulled in last minute, a favor to an old friend in the makeup team who had caught the flu the night before.

She didn’t expect this.

Not Goyang.

Not the massive J-Hope solo show.

And definitely not him.

But life never asked her opinion.

“Y/N, can you take the next artist?” someone called.

She nodded, wiping her hands on a towel as she turned to face her new client—and nearly dropped the brush in her hand.

Jeon Jungkook.

He stood just inside the dressing room door, black hoodie pulled halfway down, his dark eyes already locked on her like he’d been expecting her all along.

She froze.

He didn’t smile right away. Instead, his eyes moved over her face like he was trying to remember every detail he’d forgotten during his time away. Like nothing had changed.

Like it hadn’t been almost two years since that night.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Hey.”

A beat of silence.

Jungkook stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him. The noise of the crew disappeared instantly, and all that remained was the echo of her pulse in her ears.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice warm but unreadable.

“Neither did I,” she replied, fighting the urge to cross her arms. “I’m just filling in for someone. Temporary.”

He nodded. “I’m just… guesting for one night. Hobi-hyung wanted to surprise the fans. You know him.”

She nodded too, too quickly. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Another pause.

The air was thick now—not awkward, just heavy. Like the room hadn’t caught up with the past yet.

They both remembered that night.

The hotel.

The way his fingers had lingered on her skin like he didn’t want to forget her before he left for the military.

The silence afterward.

No messages. No explanations.

Just two people pretending it never happened.

“You look… good,” Jungkook finally said, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up sharply. “You too. Bulked up a little, huh?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mandatory army diet. Lots of push-ups. Not much else to do.”

She smiled, and for a second it felt normal again. Easy. Dangerous.

“I guess I should do your makeup,” she said, finally turning back to the mirror and picking up a sponge, grateful for something to do with her hands.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Guess you should.”

He sat down slowly in the chair, knees brushing hers as he turned to face her. The air shifted again—tighter now. As her fingers touched his skin, her heart betrayed her with a thud.

He was real. Warm. Close.

Jungkook’s voice came low, near a whisper. “Did you ever think about that night?”

She froze again, her hand stilling on his cheek. She met his gaze in the mirror.

God.

His eyes were unreadable, but soft.

Y/N swallowed. “Did you?

“I never stopped.”

____________

Flashback

The moment their lips met, it was like months of tension detonated all at once.

Jungkook’s hands were in her hair, on her back, gripping her waist like he was scared she’d disappear if he let go. Y/N couldn’t think—didn’t want to. His mouth tasted like whiskey and something sweet, like danger in disguise.

He pressed her back into the private room’s couch, their breathing tangled and uneven. His voice came rough against her neck:

“I should stop.”

“Then stop,” she whispered, her fingers already undoing the buttons of his shirt.

But he didn’t.

He kissed her harder. Slower. Like he wanted to memorize every inch of her.

Clothes came off in pieces, pulled and dropped without grace. His skin was warm, the body beneath the shirts and choreography harder now, shaped by army prep and stress and want. He looked down at her with dark, hooded eyes, chest rising and falling.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said again, as if trying to remind himself.

“Then give me tonight,” she whispered.

He did.

And it wasn’t rushed or careless

It was everything he couldn’t say out loud.

The way he held her face in his hands as he moved against her.

The way he whispered her name like it was something holy.

The way his fingers found hers and held on.

They moved together in waves—soft at first, then desperate, louder. No music playing, but still in rhythm. His lips didn’t leave hers unless it was to breathe against her throat or whisper things that made her eyes close with heat:

“You drive me crazy.”

“I thought about this so many times.”

“You feel like… home.”

He came undone with her name on his lips, forehead pressed to hers, as if letting go of something he didn’t want to admit he’d been holding in far too long.

Afterward, the silence wrapped around them like a blanket. The kind that comes only when everything’s been said without speaking.

He pulled her close.

They didn’t talk much.

Just slow breathing. Fingers tracing bare skin. Her face tucked against his chest, heartbeats still out of sync.

And then, sometime before sunrise, she must have drifted off.

The Morning After

6:37 a.m.

Y/N woke alone.

The bed beside her was cold. The spot where Jungkook had been—empty, except for a faint scent of cologne and regret.

No note. No message. No voice.

Just silence.

Her phone was quiet too. Nothing from him. Nothing from anyone.

As if it hadn’t happened.

As if she hadn’t happened.

He was gone.

_____________

The makeup brush trembled slightly between Y/N’s fingers.

His hoodie was now off. He wore a sleeveless black shirt, and time had only sharpened what was already unfairly perfect. His jawline was more defined. His features stronger. His collarbones peeked just enough to make her pulse skip.

His hair was slightly tousled, freshly washed. His eyes—still that dark brown that had once looked down at her in a hotel bed, right before vanishing—were watching her again now.

Too carefully.

Too quietly.

“Look up,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He did. Slowly.

Her fingers touched his cheek as she blended concealer along the soft curve beneath his eye. His skin was warm under her touch. Familiar. Way too familiar.

Why does this feel like a dream I forgot I had?

She tried to focus. Concealer. Powder. Eyeliner. Keep it professional.

But his eyes never left hers. Not even once.

“Still the best hands in the business,” Jungkook murmured, his voice low, deep, intimate. Too intimate.

She didn’t look up. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said. “You’re shaking though.”

Her breath caught.

“I’m not,” she lied, brushing highlight across his cheekbone.

“You are,” he said again, softer. “Is it because of me?”

She pulled back, just enough to create space. Not enough to break the moment.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, barely able to meet his gaze.

His expression shifted—something between guilt and hunger flickering behind his eyes.

“Because I thought I could walk in here and act like nothing happened,” he said. “But I can’t.”

Y/N inhaled sharply and set the brush down on the table behind her. She crossed her arms and finally let herself look at him without filters or pretending.

“You left,” she said. “No text. No call. Not even a goodbye.”

His jaw tightened. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on knees, his eyes suddenly full of something raw.

“I know,” he said. “And I hate myself for it.”

Her heart twisted.

Damn him.

Even now—especially now—he still made her heart ache in the worst way.

“I waited,” she whispered. “I told myself you’d say something. Anything.”

He stood up.

And just like that, they were too close again.

His chest almost touched hers, and his voice came low, trembling.

“I wanted to. Every day. I wrote a hundred messages and deleted all of them. Because I didn’t know what I had the right to say after what I did.

Y/N’s eyes searched his, trying to find the lie. But there was only truth—and regret.

And something else.

Still burning. Still there.

“I’m not the same person,” he said.

She let herself whisper back: “Neither am I.”

His hand reached up. Hovered near her cheek. Didn’t touch.

Not yet.

“I never forgot you,” he said, voice rough. “Not one day.”

Y/N closed her eyes. Her heart was a war zone. And he was standing right in the middle.

Y/N took a small step back. Enough for air to return. Enough for her thoughts to line up like soldiers.

In the corner of her eye, she saw movement—two stylists walking past, a camera assistant adjusting lighting nearby. The pre-show chaos was picking up again.

They weren’t alone anymore.

She cleared her throat and reached for the compact powder, flipping it open like nothing had just happened

“You should sit back down,” she said flatly.

Jungkook didn’t move at first. His brows furrowed just slightly, as if he couldn’t quite process the sudden shift.

“I mean it,” she added, firmer this time. “We’re not having this conversation. Not here. Not now.”

He slowly sat back in the chair, confusion and something like disappointment tightening his jaw.

“You were just—” he started.

“Doing my job,” she interrupted sharply, not letting him finish.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

Y/N didn’t look at him. She focused on the powder, dabbing it gently along the curve of his jaw. The same jaw she’d kissed. The same skin her fingers had once traced in the dark.

But now, her hands were steady. Cold. Careful.

“I’m here as crew,” she said, voice low but firm. “Not someone from your past.”

He let out a quiet breath, like the words hit harder than he expected.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t get to decide what this is, Jungkook. Not anymore.”

His gaze was on her now, intense and unreadable.

“You’re being cold,” he said quietly.

She met his eyes then—just for a second—and something behind her chest pulled tight.

“I’m being professional,” she corrected

He leaned forward slightly again, this time slower, like testing her boundary.

“You don’t have to pretend like it meant nothing,” he said.

Y/N smiled—tight and tired. “I’m not pretending. I’m surviving.”

His lips parted, as if to argue, but she was already turning away, reaching for the setting spray. She sprayed once, twice, then grabbed a tissue and gently patted the corners of his mouth.

“There. All done,” she said.

He didn’t move.

She stepped back again, this time fully. Crossing her arms. Setting the barrier.

“You should head to the stage for final checks. J-Hope’s going on in ten.”

Jungkook stood slowly. She could see the struggle in his posture, like he was carrying something he’d never planned to carry again.

But he didn’t say anything else.

Just nodded.

And walked away.

Leaving her standing there, heart pounding, hands clenched behind her back—wishing he had stayed

… and terrified that he still might.

The hallway leading to the stage was dim and humming with nervous energy. Crew members moved with purpose, headsets crackling, lights being tested for the final sequence.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her brush belt, keeping her face neutral—even though her chest was anything but.

“Y/N,” someone called from across the comms. “You’re needed at position three. Final touch-up for Jungkook. He’s getting mic’d now.”

Of course.

Of course.

She grabbed her compact and a brush, forced her shoulders back, and walked toward the waiting area near the stage wings.

And then she saw him.

Jungkook stood under a warm prep light, a mic technician adjusting the pack clipped to the back of his jeans. His baggy denim hung low on his hips, tucked perfectly into black leather boots. The white tank top clung to him just enough to reveal the lines of his torso—still lean, still strong, still infuriatingly beautiful.

But it was the jacket that caught the light.

Black denim, dusted with dark glitter, shimmering faintly as he moved. A single silver chain looped at the collar, catching like a secret.

He looked like someone carved out of memory and stage lights.

Unreachable. Untouchable.

Until he turned—and saw her.

His eyes locked on hers immediately. Not surprised. Not smug. Just… present.

Like he’d been waiting.

Y/N didn’t pause. She walked up to him, pro to the bone, brush already in hand.

“Mic okay?” she asked, eyes focused on his face—not his lips. Not the way his collarbone peeked out when he moved.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just a little tight. But I’ll survive.”

She nodded and stepped closer. With one hand, she steadied his jaw. With the other, she dabbed around the corner of his eye, smoothing the faint crease where the concealer had shifted.

Jungkook’s voice came low—just for her.

“You always do this thing with your lips when you’re concentrating.”

Y/N didn’t react.

“You’re doing it now,” he added, his voice dipping even lower.

“Stop talking,” she said softly. “Or I’ll poke your eye out.”

He smiled, just a little. “You’d never hurt me.”

She pulled back slightly, eyes sharp. “Don’t test that theory.”

He held her gaze for a beat, the tension between them wrapped tight as guitar strings. Then—softly, almost too quiet for her to hear—he said:

“You never said I looked good.”

Y/N hesitated, brush frozen near his cheekbone.

Then she leaned in, lips inches from his ear, and whispered

“You know you do.”

And just like that, she stepped back.

Professional.

Controlled.

Even though inside, her chest was on fire.

“Five minutes to stage,” someone called from the hall.

Y/N gave him a last once-over and nodded.

“You’re good to go.”

He didn’t move right away.

But she did.

She turned and walked away—before she could say something stupid. Before she could let him see the way her hand shook once she was out of his sight.

Because the worst part wasn’t that he was still beautiful.

It was that some part of her still wanted him to pull her back.

From the side of the stage, Y/N stood just behind the curtain, half-shielded by lighting equipment and crew bodies, watching the crowd explode in screams.

Goyang was shaking.

The fans were on fire, voices echoing off the walls, arms raised, phones lit up like stars. It was the kind of energy that pulsed through your bones. And out there, under the lights, stood J-Hope and Jungkook—both drenched in sweat, charisma, and power.

She couldn’t help it.

A small smile crept onto her face.

They looked happy.

They looked whole.

Even after everything—time, distance, silence—watching Jungkook on stage felt… right. Like a missing piece snapping back into place, even if only for a moment.

The crowd roared louder as the intro to “I Wonder” began. J-Hope tossed an arm over Jungkook’s shoulders, both of them laughing between lyrics as they danced, light on their feet, feeding off each other like they never left.

Y/N clapped softly with the others in the wings, pride warming her chest.

And then—

The beat shifted.

A murmur of recognition swept through the crowd.

“Seven.”

Jungkook stepped forward alone now, breath still heavy, lips parted, eyes scanning the sea of fans like they were his to command.

The tank top was clinging to him now. His arms were slick from sweat, veins rising along his forearms. And as he reached up to adjust the mic wire behind his neck, the shirt lifted—just enough.

That’s when she saw it.

The tattoo.

Faint under the collar, but there—dark ink curling from his shoulder, creeping across his collarbone toward his chest.

Near her, she heard two stylists whisper:

“He extended it while he was in the army.”

“It goes all the way across now—shoulder to chest.”

“God, he got so hot.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She didn’t mean to think it.

Didn’t want to.

But the image came anyway—

⸻

Flashback – That Night, That Tattoo

He hovered above her in the dark, breath warm against her collarbone. The room was barely lit by the streetlight outside, just enough to see the edges of his body—solid and real and hers, for that night.

Her lips trailed down his neck, slow and greedy.

And there it was.

The tattoo.

Back then, it ended just at the top of his shoulder, sharp black lines flowing like smoke across his skin.

Y/N kissed it.

First softly. Then again, with more hunger. Her tongue traced one of the lines, and she felt him shiver above her.

“You like it?” he asked, voice rough.

“I’d get lost in it if you let me,” she whispered back.

His laugh came low against her skin. “You already are.“

⸻

Present

Y/N blinked hard, yanked back into the now by the thunder of applause as Jungkook hit the final chorus of Seven. He moved like he’d never left the stage, hips rolling, voice pure honey, the fans eating up every second.

And all she could think was—

God, I want to see that tattoo again.

I want to see all of him again

She clenched her hands behind her back.

No.

Not tonight. Not like this.

But even as she tried to look away, her eyes found him again.

And this time, his gaze flicked—straight to her.

Just for a heartbeat.

Just long enough to let her know:

He saw her.

He always did.

He grabbed a water bottle from the cooler, downed half of it in seconds, then bent forward with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

That performance was a rush.

But the real jolt hadn’t been the lights or the fans.

It had been her.

He’d seen her.

Just off-stage. Watching.

Eyes locked on him for those final seconds of Seven.

And then it was over.

Now she was gone again.

“Yo, good job, man,” one of the dancers clapped him on the back. “You killed it.”

He nodded, still breathing heavy, eyes scanning the hallway.

A few feet down, past the tech crates and bottled waters, he finally spotted her—kneeling next to Hobi, calmly patting his forehead with a towel, checking his skin for shine, brushing powder over his temples.

Y/N.

Focused. Grounded. Not looking at him.

J-Hope laughed, still glowing from the performance. “I swear, Y/N, I don’t know how you don’t get bored fixing my sweaty face every ten minutes.”

She smiled, that soft little grin Jungkook knew too well. “It’s my job to make sure you keep looking good. Even when you’re dying inside.”

“Damn, harsh!” Hobi chuckled.

Jungkook stood there, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, unsure what to do with himself.

She hadn’t even glanced his way.

Not once.

Was she really that good at pretending now?

He took a step closer, then stopped.

She was still crouched in front of Hobi, saying something quietly, reaching into her makeup pouch for something.

She used to do that for me, too…

That same look. That same care.

And now I’m just… background noise?

His throat tightened.

J-Hope caught his eye first and smiled. “Yo, JK! You good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, straightening up. “Still breathing.”

Y/N didn’t react.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t flinch.

She just kept dabbing a clean sponge across Hobi’s cheek like she hadn’t just watched Jungkook set the entire arena on fire minutes ago.

He almost wanted to laugh.

Or curse.

Or say her name just to make her look at him.

But instead, he just stood there—sweat cooling on his skin, heart thudding, suddenly unsure whether the stage had been the hardest part of the night… or if this was.

„Hey, heads up—Jungkook’s doing a quick change. New hair touch-up needed in ten.”

The voice came through Y/N’s headset like any other cue. Routine. Professional. Just another task.

She gave a quiet “alright,” already preparing the setting spray and hair serum. But her stomach still turned.

Another outfit.

Another moment alone.

Stay focused.

She wiped down the table, replaced the brushes, adjusted the combs.

And waited.

Minutes later, the hallway rustled. Footsteps. Laughter

And then—him.

Jungkook walked in with a soft smirk and new energy. His old outfit gone, replaced by a light blue denim jacket, slightly oversized, sleeves rolled once at the forearms. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt, fitted just enough to hug the new strength in his frame.

The matching light-wash jeans sat low on his hips.

Effortless. Warm.

Dangerous.

And of course, he didn’t speak.

Just walked straight toward the styling chair like this was normal.

It wasn’t.

Y/N’s hands froze at the edge of the table. Then she grabbed the comb.

“Sit,” she said softly.

He did.

The air thickened immediately.

She ran her fingers gently through his hair—softer now after sweat and stage heat. She spritzed water, then used the comb to part the strands, brushing them back from his forehead. His skin was still warm. His pulse visible at the side of his neck.

And then—his scent hit her.

Clean. Light. Like fabric softener and something deeper.

Masculine. Familiar.

Don’t remember.

Don’t go back there—

But her body betrayed her.

⸻

Flashback – The Way He Looked at Her

That night, she’d been straddling him on the bed, knees sinking into cheap hotel sheets, her fingers tangled in his hair.

He was shirtless.

His breath hot against her collarbone.

And his hair—longer then—was all over her hands.

“Don’t stop,” he’d whispered, eyes locked on hers. “I want you to touch all of me.”

And she had.

Her palms had slid into his hair as she kissed him deeper, rougher, harder. His jacket had already been thrown somewhere across the room, and her nails had scraped down his scalp as he moaned her name.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he’d said into her skin.

And she had believed him

⸻

Present

Y/N blinked back to reality, her chest rising slightly too fast.

Jungkook was still sitting there, eyes closed, head slightly tilted back as she ran her fingers through his hair. Too close. Too intimate.

“You were incredible,” she murmured before she could stop herself.

He turned his head slightly toward her voice, surprised.

“You watched?”

“I work here, don’t I?” she muttered, brushing through the front strands slowly.

He smiled again. “Still… thanks. I saw you. Side stage.”

She didn’t reply. Couldn’t.

Her fingers slipped into his hair again, lifting gently, separating strands, smoothing texture. His hair was soft, like silk between her fingers. Familiar.

Too familiar.

“You always do it like this,” he said quietly, voice low and steady. “Gentle. You always take your time.”

“Shut up,” she whispered, but there was no venom in it.

He chuckled, deep and soft.

“I missed this.”

Y/N’s hand stilled for half a second

⸻

Flashback – That Hotel Room, That Night

Jungkook’s lips were on her throat, hot and hungry. The room was dim, but her skin was lit with fire.

His denim jacket was the first to go — she had peeled it off his shoulders, breathless from the kiss, from the way he was looking at her. Like he needed her more than air.

He’d laid her back against the sheets, one knee between her thighs, arms on either side of her head.

“Say stop,” he whispered, voice rough with want. “Say it and I will.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she pulled him in harder, fingernails raking up his back through the thin white shirt.

Her hands were in his hair — gripping, pulling.

He let out a low sound, almost a growl, and kissed her deeper

Her name fell from his lips over and over again as her mouth explored his skin like a map.

“You’re driving me insane,” he groaned against her ear.

“Good,” she whispered. “Now don’t stop.”

⸻

Present –

Her breath hitched as she adjusted his parting, her fingers trembling just barely. The brush moved, but her thoughts didn’t.

She could feel his hands still. His mouth.

She could still taste his skin.

Jungkook glanced up, sensing the shift

“You okay?” he asked again, voice gentler now.

She snapped out of it. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” His tone wasn’t teasing anymore. It was real. Worried.

Her hand froze again, just above his forehead.

And for a second—just a second—she let her fingers drift through his hair like she used to. Slow. Careful. Tender.

Like she didn’t want to forget the shape of him.

Then she stepped back. Hard.

“You’re good,” she said. “Done.”

Jungkook stood slowly, turning to face her, eyes darker now

But she was already moving, cleaning brushes, placing bottles in their trays like she hadn’t just relived his body on hers.

He didn’t say a word.

He just stood there.

Watching her like he wanted to say everything—

But maybe still didn’t know how.

The stage lights dimmed for a moment, then burst back to life in waves of purple and blue.

The crowd roared, anticipation thick in the air.

J-Hope stepped forward, confident and radiant, a wide smile lighting up his face. Jungkook followed close behind, eyes sparkling with an electric mix of focus and joy. Behind them, Jin took his place, steady and graceful, a quiet strength anchoring the moment.

The beat dropped — smooth, hypnotic — as the opening chords of “Jamais Vu” filled the arena.

Jungkook moved effortlessly, every step syncing perfectly with the rhythm. His voice blended seamlessly with J-Hope and Jin’s, weaving together in perfect harmony.

The energy between the three was magnetic, like they shared a secret only they knew — a story told through movement and melody.

Jungkook’s smile never faded. It was a beam of pure light that reached every corner of the venue.

When he hit the high notes, the crowd erupted, voices joining his in a chorus of adoration.

Side stage, Y/N watched quietly, her breath catching as she saw him shine—not just as an idol or performer, but as someone alive and free.

In that moment, all the distance, the silence, and the unspoken words melted away

Jungkook was glowing.

And she couldn’t look away.

After the last echoes of the performance faded, Y/N moved efficiently through the backstage area, gathering her tools and tidying up the makeup station. The buzz of the crew was still low but fading as everyone prepared for the next set.

Her hands worked on autopilot, but her mind wasn’t focused on the task. It kept drifting—back to the stage, to Jungkook’s radiant smile, to the way his eyes caught hers.

Once everything was packed, she slipped out of the main room, heading toward the quieter corridors backstage.

She paused outside a door, hearing soft rustling inside.

The familiar scent—clean linen and something uniquely Jungkook—filtered through the crack.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

There he was, pulling off his jacket, the soft denim falling from his shoulders. The room was dimly lit, shadows casting long lines across his frame.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” she replied, voice steady even though her heart was anything but.

For a moment, they just stood there, the space between them thick with everything unsaid.

The door clicked softly behind Y/N as she stepped into the small dressing room. The air was thick with the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the faint musk of sweat from the stage — intoxicating and familiar.

Jungkook stood by the mirror, slipping off his shirt, the muscles of his back flexing with each movement. His eyes met hers in the dim light, dark and smoldering.

“Did you watch the whole performance?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her breath catching. “Of course.”

He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking until it was nothing but electric tension

“Why do you keep avoiding me?” he asked, voice husky.

She looked away, heart pounding. “I’m trying to be professional.”

He chuckled softly, a sound full of promise and challenge. “We both know that’s not the whole truth.”

Her eyes met his again, and for the first time in a long time, the walls between them began to crumble.

Without thinking, her fingers brushed against his arm — a spark jolting through both of them.

Jungkook’s hand reached out, covering hers, warm and steady.

The room seemed to pulse around them as the heat built, unspoken but undeniable.

“Tell me,” he murmured, “do you want this? Or are you just afraid to admit it?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, lips parted — caught between restraint and desire.

And in that charged silence, everything changed.

Her eyes found his again, wide and vulnerable, the walls she’d built around herself beginning to crumble in the face of his unwavering stare.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers brushed against his forearm—a hesitant, tentative touch—but the electricity that sparked between them was anything but small.

Jungkook’s hand rose slowly, covering hers. His skin was warm, steadying, grounding. His fingers laced with hers effortlessly, like they’d been meant to fit together all along.

The room seemed to pulse with unspoken words and unsaid promises. The air thickened, charged with tension so palpable it was almost unbearable.

Her breath hitched. Her lips parted, words caught somewhere between restraint and desire. Her heart hammered like a drum, threatening to drown out everything else.

The space between them was charged with longing and fear and something deeper—something neither wanted to name but both could feel burning bright.

She could smell him, see the faintest sheen of sweat on his skin, feel the steady beat of his pulse beneath her palm.

For a moment, nothing else existed except the two of them, suspended in time, teetering on the edge of what was and what could be.

And then—

Her lips trembled as she finally whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Jungkook’s thumb brushed soothing circles over her hand. “Then maybe we’ll take it slow,” he said softly, voice full of promise and patience.

He leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek.

“Whatever you want, I’m here,” he said.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, letting the heat, the promise, the aching tension wash over her.

When she opened them again, the vulnerability was still there—but so was the spark.

Because maybe, just maybe, they were ready to stop running from what had always been there.

The space between them collapsed as Jungkook’s hand tightened slightly around hers, his touch sending a jolt straight through her.

His eyes never left hers, dark and burning with a hunger she hadn’t dared to admit she felt too.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, warm and sure, tracing a path down her jawline, following the curve of her neck.

Y/N’s breath hitched, every nerve ending alive and screaming for more.

Without warning, he closed the tiny distance left between them, lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft at first — exploratory — then deepening in an instant, fierce and desperate

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the heat between them exploded.

Jungkook’s body pressed against hers, every inch charged with the electricity of months of silence and unanswered questions.

She tasted him — salt and something sweeter, raw and real — and forgot everything except the way he made her feel alive, wanted.

His hands slid down her sides, gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him.

The room grew smaller, hotter.

Clothes became obstacles to be shed, buttons undone with trembling fingers, skin meeting skin in a blaze of heat.

He paused just long enough to whisper against her lips, “I never stopped wanting you.”

And then he kissed her like he meant it—like the night they lost to time never happened

Every touch, every gasp, every moan spoke louder than words.

This was their moment.

Unstoppable, undeniable.

The heat between them was rising, breaths mingling, hearts racing—every second felt like a stolen dream.

But then, a sharp knock echoed at the door.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, alert and tense.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pulling back just enough to listen.

From the hallway came a voice—urgent, calling his name.

“They’re looking for you.”

His gaze flicked to Y/N, a mix of frustration and regret flashing in his eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” he whispered, his hand briefly squeezing hers before he slipped toward the door.

Y/N barely had time to process before the door cracked open and he was gone, disappearing into the corridor like smoke.

Her heart pounded loud in the sudden silence.

She looked around desperately, spotting the small storage closet just behind the door.

Without thinking, she ducked inside, pulling the door quietly shut behind her.

Inside, cramped and dim, she held her breath, waiting.

Every sound from the hallway made her pulse quicken—her mind swirling with what-ifs and the ache of unfinished moments.

Outside, Jungkook’s footsteps faded down the hall.

And Y/N was left alone in the shadows, the heat between them simmering, waiting for a chance to ignite again.

The moment Jungkook’s footsteps faded down the corridor, swallowed by the chaos backstage, the room seemed to exhale with a sudden stillness. The air, heavy and charged just seconds ago, now felt impossibly quiet.

Y/N lowered herself onto a nearby chair, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly retreating. Her hands trembled slightly as she began to gather her scattered makeup brushes and palettes, packing them carefully back into her worn kit. Each item felt heavier than usual, burdened by the weight of the memories she was trying not to dwell on.

Her mind flicked back to Jungkook’s touch—the way his fingers lingered on her skin, the heat of his breath against her neck, the softness of his lips that had ignited a fire she thought had been extinguished months ago. The thought made her pulse race again, leaving her both exhilarated and conflicted.

“Hey, Y/N.”

The soft voice startled her. She looked up to see J-Hope stepping into the room, his ever-present smile gentle but sincere. His eyes held something deeper tonight—an understanding that went beyond the usual crew-member-to-artist banter.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he continued, closing the distance between them. “You really saved us tonight. The whole team’s been talking about how amazing your work was.”

Y/N forced a small smile, trying to appear composed. “It was nothing. Just doing my job.”

But J-Hope shook his head slightly. “No, seriously. You stepped in last minute, and the boys really appreciated it. We’d love to have you join us for dinner—just us, the members. It would be nice to spend some time together, outside all this.”

The invitation hung in the air, warm and inviting—but Y/N hesitated. The offer was tempting, but the underlying tension between her and Jungkook made it complicated.

“I don’t know, Hobi…” she began, voice wavering. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”

J-Hope’s smile softened, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.

“Is it… because of Jungkook?” His eyes sparkled with gentle teasing, but there was genuine care beneath it. “Everyone’s noticed, you know. The way you two look at each other—the tension that’s been building since he got back.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. She hadn’t expected anyone to be so perceptive.

He chuckled softly. “The guys talk about it a lot. They remember that night before he went to the military—the night you two were… close.”

Her cheeks flushed, heat rushing to her face. She bit her lip, uncertain whether to deny it or confess.

J-Hope’s expression was kind but honest. “No shame in it, Y/N. It’s clear there’s something between you two. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.”

She looked down, wrestling with her feelings—the fear of opening old wounds, the desire for something more, and the uncertainty of what that something might be.

The room felt smaller, the distance between them shrinking as the truth lingered in the air.

After a long pause, Y/N finally met J-Hope’s eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered.

J-Hope’s grin returned, bright and reassuring. “Good. Because whatever happens, we’re here for you. And who knows? Tonight might be the start of something new.”

Y/N nodded slowly, heart pounding—not just from the night’s events, but from the possibility of what could come next.

Outside the door, the distant hum of the crowd and the pulsing beat of the music reminded her that this world was fast and unpredictable. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of quiet hope.

They ended up in a small, tucked-away Korean BBQ place — the kind of late-night spot that didn’t need a name, only the smell of grilled meat spilling out into the street to draw people in.

It was nearly 1 a.m., but the private room was already buzzing when Y/N walked in with J-Hope.

Laughter bounced off the walls. Jin was mid-story, animated as always, hands flying everywhere while Jimin leaned into him, half-laughing, half-mocking. Taehyung was fiddling with the grill tongs, pretending to be the “meat master,” while Namjoon poured everyone water with such focus it looked like he was defusing a bomb.

Y/N hesitated at the threshold.

Until she saw him.

Jungkook.

Sitting near the far end of the low table, his denim jacket hung on the back of his chair, and his plain white t-shirt stretched just right across his chest. His hair was still damp from the show, pushed back lazily, revealing that sharp jaw and those dark, unreadable eyes.

He looked up when she entered.

And for the briefest moment—one second, no more—it was like the noise disappeared. Like she was the only person in the room.

Then Jimin shouted, “Y/N! Yah, finally! Come sit!

Hobi guided her inside with a soft nudge, and she slipped off her shoes, squeezing in between Taehyung and Namjoon. Not too far from Jungkook… but not next to him, either.

“Eat, eat,” Jin said, piling her plate high without waiting for her to speak. “You’re family now.”

Someone threw a piece of pork belly on the hot grill and it sizzled instantly, sending up a wave of smoke and scent that made Y/N’s stomach rumble.

The atmosphere was loud and easy, but her body was tense.

Jungkook hadn’t said a word.

But she could feel him.

Every time she laughed too loud, every time she reached for the lettuce, she felt his gaze flicker toward her. A glance here. A pause there. Heat beneath the surface.

It was subtle, but it was undeniable.

And the others weren’t subtle at all.

“So,” Jimin said, eyes glinting as he chewed. “Y/N, how’s it feel being back with the crew? Especially with Jungkook around again?”

The room buzzed with quiet laughter.

Y/N looked down at her rice.

Taehyung didn’t even hide his grin. “Yeah, the tension backstage was… whew. Thick. Like ramen noodles.”

“Thicker,” Jin added helpfully. “Udon-thick.”

Hobi raised his eyebrows at her, mock-innocent. “You sure you’re just here for makeup, Y/N?”

She nearly choked on her kimchi. “You’re all insane.”

But her cheeks were warm. And Jungkook?

Still silent.

Until he finally looked at her—straight on.

His voice cut through the table, low and even: “Let them talk.”

She froze. Everyone else did too.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as he added, “We know the truth, don’t we?”

It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t even playful.

It was something deeper. Something real.

And for the first time that night, Y/N wasn’t sure if her heart was racing from embarrassment… or from everything she couldn’t say.

The room burst back to life.

Once Jungkook dropped his cryptic “we know the truth,” the rest of the guys lost it.

“Ooooooh,” Jimin howled, nearly choking on his lettuce wrap. “He really said that.”

“So dramatic,” Taehyung said, clutching his chest like he’d just heard a confession on a K-drama. “Was that the opening monologue of a romance drama or what?

“I’m crying,” Namjoon muttered into his beer glass. “I swear you two are living in a fanfiction.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing so hard her sides hurt. “You guys are so annoying.”

“No, no, we’re just invested,” Jin grinned. “This is better than Love Alarm.”

J-Hope, still grilling meat like a professional, raised the tongs like a mic. “Y/N, tell us the truth—on a scale from ‘meh’ to ‘melt my bones,’ how spicy was that one night before Jungkook enlisted?”

“Hobi!” she shrieked, half-laughing, half-dying of embarrassment.

“C’mon,” Jimin said, elbowing her gently. “We all know you’ve seen the tattoo.”

Everyone froze in mock horror.

Jin gasped. “The chest extension?”

“Oh, so it is real,” Namjoon said with a smirk.

Taehyung leaned in dramatically. “Did you… kiss it?”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “I hate all of you.“

But the way her eyes sparkled said otherwise.

And the best part?

Even Jungkook was laughing.

Leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, his smile was that full, bunny-toothed grin—the one he rarely showed. He was blushing faintly, but not mad. Just watching her. Enjoying the chaos.

“Didn’t know you guys were so curious,” he said coolly.

“Oh, we’re nosy as hell,” Jimin shot back.

“And protective,” Taehyung added, poking his chopsticks at Jungkook. “But mostly nosy.”

Y/N wiped her eyes. Her cheeks were sore from smiling. It was rare to feel this light—especially after the emotional whirlwind backstage—but here, with them, it felt like home.

She picked up a piece of meat and dropped it on Jungkook’s plate.

“There,” she said, smirking. “You earned it. For surviving the interrogation.

Jungkook glanced down at his plate, then back up at her. “You feeding me now?”

The table erupted again.

“OH my god,” Jimin groaned, covering his face. “I can’t do this.”

“Just make out already,” Jin muttered. “And give us peace.”

Y/N laughed, head tipping back, feeling warmth bubble in her chest—not just from the soju or the teasing, but from something deeper.

Something like belonging.

The laughter hadn’t died down — if anything, the room had only grown louder. Jin was now reenacting a dramatic slow-motion version of Y/N “discovering” Jungkook’s chest tattoo, complete with gasps and exaggerated sound effects. Taehyung added background music on his phone, some over-the-top piano ballad from a 2008 K-drama OST.

Y/N was crying laughing, her cheeks warm and her stomach sore from how much fun she was having.

Somewhere between Hobi pouring more soju and Jimin complaining about how “nobody respects the vocal line anymore,” the conversation circled back—like it always did—to Jungkook.

“You’re seriously not gonna tell us what it looks like?” Taehyung asked Jungkook, who was now reclining comfortably in his seat, arms crossed, sipping his water like he had all the time in the world.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “You’ve all seen it. Why are you acting like it’s top secret?”

“I haven’t,” Y/N chimed in suddenly, tone light and mischievous as she reached for a piece of grilled mushroom.

The table paused—just for a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes lifted slowly to meet hers.

Y/N smiled innocently, but her voice carried the exact kind of heat that turned playful into dangerous:

“I mean, I don’t really know the tattoo… not up close. But…” — she shrugged — “I wouldn’t mind seeing it someday.”

The table exploded.

Jimin screamed, literally falling onto Namjoon’s shoulder.

“NO. MA’AM.”

“WHAT DID SHE JUST—”

Taehyung slapped the table so hard his chopsticks flew.

“YAH?!”

Even Hobi choked on his lettuce.

Jin just nodded solemnly. “She’s one of us now.”

Namjoon muttered something about needing a therapist.

But Jungkook…

He didn’t laugh.

Not right away.

He just looked at her.

And that look—God.

There was no mistaking the spark that flashed behind his eyes. Amusement, yes. But more.

Something dark and amused and dangerous.

He took another slow sip of his water, then tilted his head slightly, still holding her gaze.

“That so?” he said, voice smooth.

“Someday might come sooner than you think.”

The air thickened.

Everyone felt it.

Even the guys got a little quieter. Not out of discomfort—just knowing when the joke had crossed into real territory.

J-Hope, the eternal mood-balancer, clapped his hands. “Aaaaand that’s our cue to call for dessert!”

Y/N laughed again, trying to breathe, trying to act normal. But her heart was beating a little faster. Her eyes flicked back to Jungkook just once.

He was still watching her.

Still smiling.

But differently now.

Like he was counting the seconds until “someday.”

The night had begun to settle, the air outside still warm from the lingering summer heat, but softened now by the late hour. The laughter from dinner echoed faintly as they left the restaurant, the BTS boys still bantering and pulling each other into goodbyes.

Y/N stood just outside the entrance, her makeup bag slung over her shoulder, the cool breeze brushing her cheeks. She didn’t expect it when Jungkook stepped beside her.

“I’ll take you home,” he said simply.

No hesitation. No question.

Just that low, quiet voice. Gentle, but firm.

She blinked, taken aback. “You… sure?”

He nodded once, already unlocking the passenger door of a sleek black SUV parked nearby. “It’s late. You helped us all tonight. Let me return the favor.

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to—but because the idea of being alone with him again made her pulse flutter.

But she got in.

The drive started quiet. City lights blurred past the window, and the hum of the tires on asphalt filled the silence. Jungkook had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, fingers drumming softly to a song only he could hear.

Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye.

It was strange. After all the noise, the teasing, the chaos of the group—this silence felt heavier than anything.

She cleared her throat. “You were amazing tonight. On stage. I needed the second performance again on my phone“ you giggled.

He glanced at her, lips quirking up slightly. “Thanks. It felt good to be back.”

“And ‘Seven’…” she smiled to herself, staring out the window. “It hits different live.”

“You looked like you were enjoying it,” he said, eyes still on the road.

She laughed softly. “You mean when I almost spilled my water trying to film you?”

He chuckled, the sound warm. “Yeah, that.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt… loaded. Like something thick in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

Finally, she said it. Quietly.

“You didn’t say goodbye back then.”

Jungkook didn’t answer at first.

Then, he pulled into a small side street near her place and parked. The engine went silent. No more movement. Just the two of them, the hum of the city outside, and everything that hadn’t been said for over a year.

“I couldn’t,” he said finally. Voice low. Honest. “I didn’t trust myself.”

Y/N turned toward him, caught off guard by the rawness in his tone.

“I thought…” He paused, jaw flexing slightly. “If I said goodbye the right way, I wouldn’t leave. And I had to. I had no choice.”

She looked down, fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag. “You could’ve at least left a message. Something.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

Silence.

But now it was his turn to speak again.

“I thought about you a lot. More than I should have.”

Her breath caught.

He leaned slightly closer, not touching, but closer. His voice dropped.

“And tonight… that little comment you made at dinner?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his.

He smiled—slow, almost cocky—but still soft around the edges.

“You’re still curious about the tattoo, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed instantly. “I was joking.”

“Were you?” he murmured.

Then his hand reached up—slowly—and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

That touch alone was enough to undo her.

“You shouldn’t play with fire if you’re not ready to get burned,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze. “Who says I’m not ready?”

That was the moment.

The air between them crackled.

He didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

But the promise of it hung in the space between their mouths—so close, so charged, so inevitable.

And when he finally pulled back, just enough to let her breathe again, his smile was softer this time.

“I’ll walk you up.”

The elevator ride up to her apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet where every second stretched into a question. Every glance was a whisper of should we? And the air between them… was ready to ignite.

Y/N’s fingers shook slightly as she unlocked her door, the familiar click of the lock sounding so loud in the silence that followed.

She stepped inside, turned on the hallway light.

Jungkook followed.

And as she closed the door behind him, the soft thud of it shutting felt like crossing a line.

No turning back.

Y/N slipped off her shoes. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Or—”

But her voice faltered when she turned around and saw him watching her.

He was standing in the narrow hallway, still in his all-denim outfit, the white shirt beneath his jacket clinging faintly to his frame. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his lips parted like he wanted to say something—but didn’t.

“I’m not thirsty,” he said.

And it wasn’t what he said, but how he said it.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was charged.

She took one step closer. So did he.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “About thinking of you. About missing you.”

Her breath caught. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

His eyes searched hers.

“Because if I told you then… I wouldn’t have stopped.”

Then his hand reached for her—slow, but sure. His fingers brushed her cheek, then slid into her hair as he stepped into her space, eyes locked on her lips.

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t gentle.

It was months of tension, guilt, want, and memory all at once.

His lips crushed hers with a hunger that made her gasp, her fingers clutching at the collar of his jacket. She could taste the leftover sweetness of soju and the familiar heat that had haunted her dreams for months.

Jungkook moved with purpose, backing her up until her shoulders hit the wall, never once breaking the kiss. His hand slid around her waist, gripping her hip like he was claiming her—like he had to make sure she was real.

She tugged at his jacket. He let it fall.

Her hands slid under the hem of his white shirt, fingertips grazing skin—warm, solid, the faintest edge of his abs tightening beneath her touch.

And then she felt it.

The tattoo.

inked into his shoulder… but now extended, traced down over his chest, disappearing beneath his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to catch her expression. His smile was dangerous.

“Still curious?” he asked, breathless.

Y/N nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Show me.“

And just like that, he stripped off the shirt.

Slowly. Intentionally.

The fabric lifted, revealing inch after inch of warm skin, hard muscle, and ink—dark lines and shadows that traced down across his collarbone and onto his chest. Her eyes followed it, mesmerized, lips parting.

“You can touch,” he said, voice low. “I want you to.”

She stepped forward, hands resting on his bare chest. Her fingers traced the tattoo slowly, then her lips followed—soft kisses over the ink, down the line of his collarbone.

His breath hitched. “Fuck…”

That one word unraveled them both.

He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her against the wall again, his mouth on her neck now—biting, soothing, teasing—hands sliding beneath her shirt, exploring with the kind of hunger that came from waiting too long.

Y/N was gasping, clawing at his skin, her voice a whisper against his ear:

“You left me burning for a year, Jeon.”

His answer was a growl, low and deep:

“Then let me burn with you now.”

And he did.

Again and again.

Until the only thing left between them was sweat, skin, and the sound of two hearts finally finding their rhythm again.

Y/N woke to warmth.

Not just the sunlight gently seeping in through the thin curtains — but the steady, solid heat of Jungkook’s body wrapped around hers. His arm draped heavy over her waist, his legs tangled lazily with hers, and his breath soft against the back of her neck.

And he was still asleep.

She could tell by the rhythm — slow, deep — and by the way his hand twitched every now and then against her stomach, as if holding her tighter even in his dreams.

Her eyes fluttered shut again.

For a while, she just lay there — letting herself feel it. His skin against hers. The quiet peace of a moment that didn’t feel rushed, or borrowed, or dangerous.

Just… theirs.

Then, softly:

“You’re awake.”

His voice was rough — sleep-heavy, low, and deeper than usual

She smiled, eyes still closed. “So are you.”

He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades. “Didn’t want to be. But you’re so warm, it’s distracting.”

She laughed under her breath, turning slightly in his arms so she could face him.

Jungkook was barefaced — hair messy, lips pink, his eyes still half-closed. But beautiful. Soft and unguarded in a way she rarely saw.

“You drool,” she said, grinning.

He groaned. “No, I don’t.”

“You absolutely do. You were cuddling me like a human pillow.”

“You’re small and soft. That’s not my fault.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to sit up — but Jungkook pulled her back down without effort, wrapping both arms around her like a human blanket.

“You’re not going anywhere yet.”

“But—”

“I’ve waited over a year to wake up next to you. I’m taking my time.”

And just like that, her heartbeat flipped again.

He was staring at her — not with lust, not with nerves — but with that quiet, open gaze that felt… dangerous. In the best way.

“Did it feel real to you?” she asked softly.

His thumb brushed against her hip beneath the blanket. “It feels more than real.”

She swallowed. “I don’t want to overthink this. Or ruin it.

“You’re not,” he said immediately. “I swear.”

There was a pause.

Then he reached up, brushing hair from her face.

“I was scared to see you again,” he admitted. “Backstage, when I first walked in and saw you… I almost lost it. You looked the same. But different.”

“Different how?”

“More… sure of yourself. Even when you ignored me,” he teased, smirking.

She poked his chest. “You deserved it.”

He caught her hand gently, threading their fingers together. “Probably. But I couldn’t stop looking at you. I still can’t.”

Her cheeks burned — and she hated how easy he made her smile.

Then:

“What now?” she asked quietly.

Jungkook didn’t rush to answer. He studied her face like he was memorizing every curve, every freckle, every shade of doubt in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I want to find out. With you.”

And in that moment, it didn’t matter that the world outside was loud, complicated, or unsure.

Because here — in her bed, wrapped in sheets and sleepy affection — they were sure

For now, that was enough.

[vibeswithdivs]

Papa Verstappen, Master of Pit Stops

Max Verstappen

The house was blanketed in silence, the kind of quiet that only came after a long, exhausting day. You had finally managed to crawl into bed, your limbs heavy with fatigue. The winter break had been anything but restful, with a three-month-old baby girl demanding every ounce of your energy. But now, for the first time that day, you’d stolen a few precious minutes of sleep, cocooned in the warmth of your duvet, with dreams tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

In the corner of the house, Max sat at his sim-racing setup, his brow furrowed in concentration as he maneuvered his virtual car around the track. The hum of the simulator and the occasional clack of buttons punctuated the stillness. He had spent the evening taking over as much as he could—soothing the baby, feeding her a bottle, and giving you a break—but even Max Verstappen needed a little time to unwind.

That peace shattered when a wail pierced through the house. The baby was awake, her cries echoing down the hallway and slicing through the stillness. Max froze for a moment, his hands pausing mid-turn on the wheel. He glanced at the baby monitor beside him, where the tiny figure of his daughter was flailing in her crib.

Max didn’t wait for you to get up. “I’ve got it,” he called out, already slipping off his headphones.

You mumbled something in response, too exhausted to argue, and sank back into the bed. Max hurried down the hallway, his sock-clad feet silent on the wooden floor, and entered the nursery. His daughter’s cries grew louder as he approached, her tiny fists clenched and her face scrunched up in frustration.

“Hey, kleine meisje,” Max said softly, his voice warm and affectionate despite the chaos. He bent over the crib, gently scooping her up into his arms. “What’s wrong, hmm? You didn’t like that Daddy was racing? You wanted some attention?”

He swayed on his feet, cradling her close as he tried to soothe her. The cries subsided into hiccupy sobs, her big blue eyes—so much like his own—blinking up at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart melting at how tiny and fragile she felt in his arms.

But then the crying started up again, loud and insistent, and Max frowned. “Okay, okay. I hear you. Let’s figure this out.” He carried her over to the changing table, his movements careful as he laid her down. “Is it your tummy? No, you just ate. Hmm… Or maybe you’re too warm?”

He checked her swaddle, loosening it slightly. That didn’t help. He picked her up again, bouncing her gently as he tried to think. “I’m not great at this detective stuff, you know,” he said, his voice light and teasing despite his growing concern. “Mama’s the expert. I’m just the backup crew.”

The baby didn’t seem impressed with his self-deprecating humor, her cries persisting at full volume. Max frowned, running a hand through his messy hair. Then, like a lightbulb switching on, he remembered something you had said earlier in the day about diaper changes. He glanced at her tiny bottom, noticing the telltale bulk of a full diaper.

“Is that it?” he asked, his voice rising in playful excitement. “Do you need a pit stop? Papa’s got you, don’t worry.”

But as he set her back down on the changing table and reached for the diaper bag, a new wave of uncertainty hit him. He stared at the tabs and folds of the diaper, his confidence faltering. “Okay, this looks… complicated,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. His daughter let out another wail, as if to say, Hurry up!

Max grabbed his phone and quickly searched, “How to change a diaper.” He clicked on the first YouTube video he found, balancing the phone on the edge of the changing table. The cheerful voice of a parenting vlogger filled the room, explaining the process step by step.

“See?” Max said, glancing at his daughter as he unfastened the old diaper. “We’re learning together. You’ll thank me for this someday when you’re not sitting in a wet diaper anymore.” His tone was playful, and he leaned down to nuzzle her cheek for good measure. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

The baby quieted a little at his soft voice, watching him with wide, curious eyes. Max followed the instructions meticulously, wiping her clean and slipping a fresh diaper under her. He fumbled with the adhesive tabs for a moment, muttering under his breath, “How do they make these look so easy in the video?”

Finally, he fastened the diaper snugly and lifted her into his arms with a triumphant grin. “Done! Papa Verstappen, master of pit stops!” He kissed her on the forehead again, rocking her gently. “You can stop crying now, okay? That was a world-champion-level diaper change.”

As if on cue, the baby’s cries softened into tiny hiccups, her eyes drooping as she relaxed against him. Max chuckled softly, a wave of relief washing over him. He walked her around the nursery, humming a lullaby he vaguely remembered from his own childhood.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, Max stood there for a moment, marveling at the tiny bundle in his arms. The late-night exhaustion, the interrupted sim race, the frantic diaper change—it was all worth it for this. He laid her back down in the crib, tucking her in carefully before tiptoeing out of the room.

Back in the bedroom, he found you half-awake, propped up on one elbow and blinking groggily. “Everything okay?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

“Perfect,” Max said, climbing into bed beside you and pulling the blanket over both of you. “Our little girl just needed a fresh diaper. We worked it out.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you murmured, already drifting back to sleep.

Max pressed a kiss to your hair, his heart full. “Anything for my girls,” he whispered, holding you close as the house finally settled into peace once more.

[delulumiau]

I dare you to kiss me

Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Reader

Summary: in the last couple of weeks, the tension between you and Zoro has grown significantly. When the crew leaves you both on watch at the ship while they explore a new island, things heat up between you two.

w/c: 1.7k

c/w: NSFW, use of y/n, dom zoro, teasing, kind of fluff at the end.

The tension between the two of you has intensified in the last few weeks. Sparring sessions have become a game of stares instead of swords, the two of you have been assigned together to guard dutty one too many nights in a row, you even started doubting whether it was intentionally planned by the crew. On top of that, Zoro walked in on you yesterday while you were in the shower and quickly flew away feeling embarrassed.

You just arrived at a new island and the crew has left Zoro and you on watch once again while they explore the city and get some food.

Zoro has decided to train inside the ship because it is too hot outside. You choose to stay on the deck and get a look at the city until you decide to join Zoro's training. You put on some leggings and a sports bra and head inside.

“Aren't you supposed to keep watch outside?” He asks. He's shirtless, sweat making his muscles more prominent than usual.

“Aren't you?" You ask back. “It's too hot outside to stand there longer than a minute.”

You sit on the bench across from him and begin lifting some weights. You are on your own thoughts when Zoro suddenly takes you out of them: “I bet you can't lift 100 pounds.”

“Is that a challenge, Roronoa? Watch me”

You grab the dumbbells and try your best to lift them, and as Zoro sees you're struggling, he approaches to help you. You feel him behind, his hands suddenly on your arms barely helping you upwards trying not to take credit for your strength and will.

You manage to lift the weights all the way up and immediately throw them to the floor and turn around with a jump to celebrate your victory against Zoro.

He lets out a breathy laugh and although he won't let it show, he feels proud on the inside. He's had his fun, and you decide it is now your turn to have some. Feeling brave, you get closer to him “Now, I dare you to kiss me”

You instantly watch him flush “What?” He looks shocked, but intrigued.

“You heard me. I dare you to kiss me.” You say as you push him down on the bench and straddle him.

His stare darkens with lust “As tempting as that may sound, I'd rather you kissed me"

You get unreasonably closer to him, your lips brushing his. You feel the bulk in his pants begin to harden. “Oh Zoro, I'm not gonna kiss you. I'm not giving you the satisfaction.”

You feel his breath quicken along with yours, hearts beating uncontrollably.

Zoro is the one to break the noisy silence of your heartbeats. “Let's make a bet: if I kiss you, you get to ask me for whatever favor you want. And if you kiss me, you'll let me sleep next to you tonight.”

The last bit startles you. He wants to sleep with you? Weird, but “Deal.” You say despite your confusion. That's easy, you can sleep with him for a night. Besides, you trust you can win.

That simple word is all Zoro needs to know he's got your consent, to know you want this too. Seizing your position, having your neck right within reach of his mouth, he begins to place wet kisses all along your ear down your neck to your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around his head and bury your hands in his green locks. The touch of his lips across your neck feels surreal. You begin grinding on his lap, feeling needy.

“What do you want from me y/n?” He groans. You get your mouth an inch from his again and bite his lower lip making him groan again. He can't hold it any longer, you grinding on his bulge, the biting, your scent reaching all his senses. He gives in and holding your face with both hands kisses you ferociously, hungry. You slightly open your mouth and he seizes the opportunity to search your tongue with his, making the kiss wet and sloppy.

You are the first to break the kiss. “You lost” you say staring with lust directly into his eyes. “Now I get to ask you for whatever I want.”

“What do you want y/n?” Your name coming from his lips almost has you crumbling to the ground. “I want you to fuck me.”

He gives you a cocky grin as if knowing you wanted it all along. He tugs at the hem of your sports bra and looks at you as if asking for permission. You give him a quick nod before he is lifting it up above your head and tossing it to the floor.

“What if the others return and walk in on us?” You ask, suddenly scared of getting caught. He says nothing, wraps your legs around his waist, hoists you both up and heads to the door to turn the lock. “Done” he simply says, bringing you both back to the bench sitting down with you on top.

He takes your breast in his mouth doing wonders with his tongue, which has your head rolling backwards with utter lust. Meanwhile, he pulls your leggings along your underwear off.

You reach down to him taking out his hard cock from his pants and begin stroking it slowly, savoring every little breath and grunt he lets out.

He grabs your ass and lifts you up, then takes his dick with one hand and allings it with your entrance, stroking your clit lightly making you eager for him to fill you up. He lets your hips go down on him slowly, too slowly. He stretches you out and you savor the uncomfortable yet sweet pain it is causing you. A few seconds later he forces you to go in deeper so that you can now feel his entire length inside you.

You take the lead and start moving up and down, needy. It feels too good. However, seeing you've taken the lead, Zoro stops you.

“I lost, I owe you a favor. You asked me to fuck you, so that is what I am going to do”

Lifting you off him, he puts you on all fours, hands and knees on the bench. He takes off his pants and goes behind you, hands on your hips, and without previous warning he thrusts all the way into you. You swear you see stars. But not out of pain, but pleasure. Only now do you realize how bad and how long you had craved Zoro.

Slowly, he nearly pulls out completely to strongly pound into you once again. He drags his cock in and out a few more times, driving you crazy. You try to swallow your moans, trying not to be too loud and get caught. Zoro has other plans though: “Scream for me baby, let me know how good it feels.”

He picks up his pace, pounding hard. You can barely breathe. You feel your climax building and it takes a single thrust to have you collapsing on the bench, Zoro holding your hips up to keep pounding, while you scream his name as you come on his dick.

You haven't recovered from your high yet when Zoro lifts you up and sits you both down on the bench, your legs straddling him again. Hungry for more, you kiss him this time. Wet and desperate. He kissed you first, so the bet is over.

“You can ride me all you want now baby.” You take his dick and bury only the tip in your folds, moving slowly and rubbing lightly. He curses under his breath at the need “Quit playing y/n or I'll have you on all fours again.”

You smirk and take his dick all the way in. “Fuck y/n, you feel so good.” He rolls his head back, savoring the moment. You begin to bounce on him faster, your breasts moving along as he admires them. You feel your release building again. “Zoro, I'm so close”

“Let go baby, I'm almost there too.”

You come a second time, hugging him and involuntarily digging your nails in his back. He hisses, and feeling your walls clench around him, he comes inside of you as he groans loudly.

You both recover from your high. Panting you run your hands through his hair and kiss him one last time before you pull him out, then begin putting on your clothes.

“That was nice, a pleasure making deals with you Zoro.” You say as you unlock the door to leave.

“Same y/n. I'll be coming to your room by midnight.”

“What?” You stop confused and turn to face him. “You want another round already? You're needy Roronoa.” You mock him.

“No, I remind you that you were the one asking me to fuck you y/n.” He smirks, making you flush. “I'm just a man of word, and I like to make deals with people that will honor them as well.”

“But you kissed me first. You lost and I got my favor. We are even.” You answer confused.

Zoro lets out a breathy laugh. “I never said the first one to kiss the other would lose, but whoever kissed the other. You should listen carefully y/n.” His grin fills his entire face. You hadn't paid attention to his words while making the deal, too lost in lust to think straight.

“See you tonight then.” Zoro waves at you with a smirk and begins to get dressed.

Feeling embarrassed you walk out to the deck to get some air, and you see the crew approaching. You hope your flush leaves your face before they reach the ship.

During the rest of the day you try to ignore Zoro who smirks at you anytime your eyes meet. Although you don't want to admit it, you can't wait for it to be midnight already.

As the night comes and the crew heads to sleep, you await in your room, heart beating fast with nerves and excitement. You hear a knock on the door and smile to yourself. You head to the door and open it to find Zoro leaning against it.

“Can I come in?”

You move to the side letting him in. Closing the door, you lay next to him, his strong arms immediately wrapping around your waist, holding you tight. You both instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up next morning, you find he's already left, probably for his training session. Yet you can't help but smile. You hadn't slept that good in ages.

[chai-berries]

Okay maybe it's the seasonal candles and chilly weather getting to my brain but clingy reader x clingy Abby would go so hard omfg. They're both so needy it makes everyone around them sick, constantly attached at the hip and smooching foreheads/cheeks. My OC has a matching kitty and puppy onesie with her 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I need Abby so bad it's not fair 😭

anon,,, you are so real for this. as someone that is single but has a “wifey” coffee cup stored away for later, i totally agree with clingy abby x reader

i thought of some things that abby x reader do that all of your friends would totally roast you both over:

— matching holiday sweaters…

— she wears one of your specific brands of hair ties on her wrist just in case you need it. i’m talking those spiral ones. and she doesn’t even wear them, she just has it on her at all times *insert manny making a whipping noise*

— you guys are often late to morning meet ups with friends because y’all are cuddling in bed. or having sex but most of the time it’s abby wanting to be the little spoon

— you guys both love quality time together, doing different things. like you could be working on art or catching up a show and abby will be right next to you working on sudoku or reading a book. you don’t talk much unless something interesting comes up. but that doesn’t mean you aren’t in a tangle of limbs on the sofa

— one time abby left a big hickey on your neck and you didn’t notice till you came back from the bathroom

“did you mean to make the hickey look like a heart?”

“no, wait lemme see”

*sees*

“holy shit… that’s hot”

— when you miss her but she’s not around or is busy, you will find one of her sweatshirts that she’s been wearing around the house and put it on. it smells so deeply of abby that you can easily cocoon yourself in the scent. abby discovered you do this when she was looking for her college crew neck sweater and found you wearing it while taking a nap

— you also often take her long socks. you know those nike crew length socks that she buys in bulk? yeah you love to wear them in the winter and abby thinks it’s adorable when you come shuffling into the bedroom, in comfy clothes from head to toe

— you both find so much comfort in each other's arms that even at parties when one of you is having a conversation with another person, the other will come up and silently ask for a hug that turns into a standing cuddle. it’s so normalized in your close friend group that no one bats an eye when abby comes over to you and wraps her body around yours all while you continue talking, softly petting and kissing her head and hugging her tighter when she moves

[druidwolf21]

If it's not too much trouble can you write some wild warp sex with Magnus with a fem reader? Go balls to the wall with how crazy it gets.

Hey anon! Thank you so much for your ask!

Free reign for crazy sexy time with the OG magic man???

Yes please

Sorry this took so long hope you enjoy!

CW: dubious consent through lies, but NO forced stuff. Little bit of butt stuff, smut smut smut, brief mention of gore

@beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @kit-williams @jaghatai-khock @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨🌟🌟🌟✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This isn't happening

This cannot be happening

You cried out in fear, siren screams echoed through the metal halls and red flashes of spinning alarms streaked your world with splatters of scarlet light as you stumbled down the corridor. Another shudder wracked the ship and you stumbled, skidding along the floor before crashing into the cold walls. Boots stormed past you and rough hands hauled you to your feet before sprinting away.

"warp drive fail, time until impact: T minus 2 minutes"

The cold voice, barely audible over the screams and thunder of movement softly counted down the time. Stunned, everything around you seemed to slow down. The faces of soldiers and crew, sprinting towards the evac bay, faces curled in fear and teeth clenched seemed fuzzy as they passed by, everything was muted and your heart hammered in your chest, filling your ears with the thunder of your blood roaring around your body with adrenaline. You snapped back to reality as a serf barrels past you, slamming you back into the wall as they fled the carnage.

Shaking your head you glanced around. The main bulk of the crew continued fleeing towards the hanger in an attempt to reach the evac pods. But they were finite, and you already knew your chances were slim at best, no, you had to find something else. Sprinting against the swell of bodies you pushed your way towards the armoury. Dragging yourself through the fear and trampling mass you stretched for the door, grasping the handle with white knuckles you heaved yourself inside, slamming the emergency lock button by the door before sliding down the alloyed surface.

You pulled your knees to your chest and pressed your forehead down, cupping your neck with interlaced cold hands as you listened to the gentle hiss as the doors hermetic locks sealed shut. Nothing in or out. Taking a deep breath you unlaced your hands and wrapped yourself around a exhaust pipe, clinging like your life depended on it as the tiny voice crackled through the speaker.

3

2

1

You screamed as the room crashed around you, guns, shells and munitions flew around you in a storm of metal as the ship impacted something. The screech of crushing metal and groan of collapsing iron surrounded you as you grit your teeth. Your arms burned from labour as you clutched the piping with desperation, your ribs sore from bouncing on the steel door and wall as the vessel was slowly ground into oblivion. Your head cracked against the wall and the world went dark and silent.

You awoke with a throbbing head and aches from so much of your body you couldn't tell what was what. You groaned and attempted to stand, before doubling over as pain and nausea swept over you.

"holy crap I'm alive" you whispered, staring at the scattering of metal rounds and clips as the sickness finally passed. You slowly bent upright, leaning heavily on the wall as you gathered your thoughts. YouR head was throbbing, along with your ribs and you pressed a tentative finger to your side and hissed, bruised, but miraculously nothing felt broken. Rolling your linen sleeves past your elbows you scowled at the rash of red and blue along your forearm from the rubbing of twisted metal on your skin but all in all, worth it to walk away with your life.

Sore, possibly concussed, but definitely alive.

Groaning as you heaved yourself off the now corrugated surface, you limped to the door and slapped your scuffed palm on the release, scowling and closing your eyes as the sudden light overwhelmed you. Blinking in disorientation you stepped out and gasped.

The world was cold and cruel, but so mesmerizingly beautiful. Peaks of bleak dark rock jutted from between aether clouds of untold colours, kaleidoscopes of lightning and energy chased through the mesmeric vapors and even higher still a ring of white circled the planet like a halo.

The gutted carcass of the ship lay strewn over 200 meters away. The corridor so many people had fled through was splintered, recognisable by only fragments of welded bolts and twisted venting. The main body of the transporter smoldered as thick oily smoke and promethium leaked and pooled around the decimated hull, the stench of burning fuel and melting ore lay thick in the air, rolling across your tongue and coiling in the back of your throat, threatening to drag up whatever bile was left in your stomach.

You slowly eased yourself through the half opened door and began walking towards the main bulk of your fallen ship, bodies littered the crash site, faces you knew, others flayed beyond recognition, torn and thrown like ragdoll.

"there has to be someone" you hissed, clutching your bruised side as you staggered on. "Hello? Is anyone still alive?'.

Your eyes flicked as you saw movement from a large slash in the side of the ship, the walls torn open angrily into jagged peaks groaned as a hulking shadow emerged from the bowels of the spacecraft. The air shimmered with iridescent light and you felt a wave of energy pulse through you, tripping your senses and confusing your thoughts, your mind felt like it draped in a chill fog, though it did nothing the halt the dread creeping into your gut as the figure finally stepped into the light.

The marines helm twisted as he paced, metal screaming as his armoured weight crushed it underfoot as he stepped. The incandescent shift of hued vapors danced on the blue and gold of his armour as he turned and stopped, catching your trembling figure in its crimson glare. It paused for a moment, cocking it's head slightly, as if listening, before it began thumping towards you.

"screw that"

You spun and began running, ignoring the throbbing in your body as you sprinted. You could feel the earth shake beneath your feet as the colossus of Ceremite and steel ground the rubble to dust in his pursuit of you. Turning your head over your shoulder, you gulped as the distance between grew smaller by the second, you could see motes of sparking dust puff from the marine as he moved. You turned your head forward again to focus on your esca...

Whack

You tumbled backwards with the impact, grunting as you hit the rocky floor with a hard thud and pain staggered up your bruised body. Panic flooded through you as you staggered to your feet, clawing at the dirt to get any form of traction you rose up. You balled your fists, helplessly bringing them up defensively as the armoured predator strode towards you. The astartes, now only meters from you stopped, head cocked once more as he looked past you, before turning around and stomping off back the way he came.

A laugh came from behind you, deep and luxurious, it resounded through your body, sending shivers up your spine. You turned on your heels and stared dumbfounded at the source of the sound and your impact.

The man towered over you, casting a long shadow as he smiled down at you. His skin shone like burnished copper, almost glowing with an ethereal light. Long flowing hair, a waterfall of burnt umber framed a handsome face, whilst sweeping bangs concealing a missing eye as his other looked down at you softly. A smile creased his feature as he continued watching you shiver under his gaze, spreading further as you straightened your back and tilted your chin defiantly.

“If your going to kill me, get it over with “ you spat, holding his gaze, each second feeling like an hour under the crunching intensity of his emerald stare and sheer presence, the blanket around your mind seemed to wash gently across your thoughts as he studied you.

Suddenly he laughed again, a deep bellowing sound as he threw his head back. His golden armour hissed and whined as he knelt down, levelling his face with your own. “Brave word, little one, I admire your courage! But I’m afraid you have lept to conclusions” he swept a muscular arm in the direction of the wreckage “your ship crashed, we mearly came to look for survivors.”

Brow creased in confusion, you studied his face, looking for a lie. You had heard all the stories of the crimson king, of how Magnus the red was a demon of colossal size and power, tearing friend and foe alike as he slaughtered his way through the imperium. But the man who stood before you was just that. A man. Albeit he was huge, but there were not teeth like swords or devil horns, no demons dancing to his whim. Just a very tall, very handsome man.

“But… I thought..”

He chuckled again, and placed a large hand gently on your head, tousling your hair gently, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am no monster”

At his touch all of the fear finally dissipated, a gentle warmth spread through your body, the dog around your mind became blanket thick and you felt tears prick your eyes. your knees finally gave out beneath you but warm hands clutched your soft body, supporting as you sobbed.

“Don’t fear, you’re safe now”

You awoke bundled in soft, warm sheets. Red silk hung from the four poster frame in a soft curtain around you and the mattress felt soft and pillowy under your body. Sitting up in confusion you glanced around the room. A marble fire held a stoked flame that cast gentle flickers of light across the oaken floor. A plush burgundy rug splayed across the centre of the room whilst a large side table held a plate of fresh fruits and flowers, everything you looked at had a faint pearlecent shimmer, almost unnoticeable, flitting in and out of your vision.

A knock came from the door and drew you attention as Magnus stepped in, bowing slightly to avoid the frame of the door. He flashed you a charming smile when he saw you awake and alert and, collecting the silver platter, he swept over to your bedside and offered the delicacies towards you. His silver robes sparkled against his ruddy skin as he moved. You eyed them suspiciously before shrugging and taking a ripe berry and popping it in your mouth, savouring the sweet juice as it flooded your mouth, all the while, Magnus eye never left your face as he watched you pick through the fruit.

"I'm sorry"

He cocked his eyebrow at your words. "Sorry?"

You nodded "You came to help and I was rude to you, so I'm sorry" your eyes twitched to his face before looking away as you continued. "I guess id heard all the stories and just..."

He shook his head, his red mane tumbling around his shoulders "I understand. The..." He paused for a moment and sighed "the imperial truth, as they call it, is hard to avoid" he lay the plate on the blanket beside you and gently patted your leg under the fabric. Heat traveled to your core and you felt yourself flush at his touch."You are safe here, rest until you are well enough to travel and we can arrange to return you to imperium space" he rose from his seat and turned to leave, the air around him shimmered and flickered for a moment, like static. You blinked and it was gone.

"wait"

He froze at your voice, throwing a glance over his broad shoulders.

"keep me company?"

He smiled and for a moment you thought you saw a shadow pass over his face, a hint of something darker in his expression, but as quick as it came, it was gone. He returned to the foot of the bed and the mattress caved under his weight. "Of course, little one" he reached out and ran his finger along the the form of your thigh under the shining material. You shuddered at his touch, and your body moved on its own, your head so full of clouds and muffled you couldn't think as you shimmied out from the covers and crawled over towards him, reaching for his large thigh. His smile grew larger as you caressed his thigh, his skin dark against you pale hand.

Wait wasn't he wearing a robe

All your thoughts seemed to slip from your grasp and your body moved on its own as you slipped your hand along his carved abs, along his chest before reaching his face. You edge forward as he turned the rest of his body to face you fully, sliding across his thigh as you brought your lips towards his. His large hands roamed your body gently caressing your bare curves, tickling the soft skin of your thighs

"beautiful" you muttered, stroking his cheek before pressing a chaste kiss against his soft mouth and tangling your hands into his locks. He tasted like spice and ozone and you moaned as he found your ass, squeezing the soft fat of your rear. Taking advantage he pushed his tongue past your lips, leaning into you until your back was against the sheet and he was hunched over you, your thighs spread around his wide hips. A heated touch found a breast and you arched into his touch as he rolled your tender nipple between his fingers, pinching the nub until you were gasping his name, your own hand clutching his wrist weakly as he toyed with you.

He pulled back from you and eyed you hungrily, static building up in the air around him, fracturing around him, flashes of colour and darkness appearing and vanishing around him. A flutter of wings echoed around the room and you dragged your eyes away from the primarch, lured by the sound. He quickly caught your chin between his fingers and brought you face back to look at him.

"eyes on me, little one" he cooed gently, relishing the sudden look of shock on your face as you felt his erection grind against you. "This was what you wanted, wasn't it?" He ran the length of his dick along your wet pussy, coating it in your slick as he rubbed against you, his tip spreading your lower lips apart and bumping into your clit as he moved. You gasped and whined underneath him, you mind wiped of all thoughts except to satisfy him, to have him take you over and over"

"please, Magnus" you whimpered , thrusting your hips up to meet him and clawing at his broad shoulders. He laughed, but the sweetness once in his was gone as he thrust into you suddenly, stretching you to your limit without any chance to adjust, he grunted as he felt your wet walls twitch around his cock as he entered you. Throwing your head back you groaned and hissed as he drew his length slowly back out before thrusting back in, over and over he fucked into you, his lips finding the exposed skin of your neck as he nibbled and sucked, leaving marks everywhere he touched you.

"so pretty, so good to me" he whispered in your ear, finally moving his fingers from your abused nipple to circle your puffy clit, circling the tender nub slowly as he ground into you. "So perfect" he continued to whisper sweet things in your ear and he fucked you, promises of sweet caresses and endless knowledge as his hard cock stroked the spot deep inside you that made your gut coil like a spring. " Say you'll stay" he uttered, voice like music as he continued to bury himself in your tight cunt.

"yes yes YES" you cried, cumming around his as he continued to fuck you through it.

His grinned and kissed you sweetly, allowing you to soak in the illusion he created.

In reality, Giant taloned hands clawed at your flesh as the demon prince pressed you into the rotten mattress, the silk sheets were faded and torn and the fire had been dead longer than the flower that rotted in the table. Magnus reached around your waist and pulled you up, seating you on his dick and relishing the noises you and your pussy made as he bounced you up and down on his length. Wisps of warp energy swirled around you, spreading your ass cheeks and caressing the puckered hole and sliding in, causing you to writhe and shake at the sudden intrusion, feeling yourself get fucked in both holes, your eyes rolled back in your head and your rocked against the sensation, drool pooling down your chin as the last sensibility was fucked from you.

Massive horns curved out of the sorcerers head and shaded you as he glared down with an eye lit with electric energy. His great wings spasmed and twitched as he edged closer to finishing and your head rolled forward weakly as he snarled, pulling you down harshly as he came inside you, his member twitching as he shot thick ropes of cum inside you.

He held you close, great chest heaving as he gulped in air crackling with aether before lifting you with surprising gentleness and placing you on the mattress, rotten and warped with age and decay, but to you, lost in the illusion he had crafted for you alone, it was as soft as down.

You whined at the sudden empty feel and He looked down at you, your pupils wide from arousal and magic as you gazed back. He rose to his great clawed feet, talons carving grooves in the floor as he moved. "Rest now, you need to heal"

"my lord" you sighed, so sweetly "will you really let me stay with you?"

He hummed and dragged finger across your forehead "of course my sweet thing"

He turned and left the room, locking the door as he went.

It wasn't like you had a choice anyway.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Boss Part 3 -Oneshot

Word count: 2025

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Bucky was pouring over documents, splaying out packets of information in front of himself on his desk, then when he was finished Y/N gathering them into neat piles on the floor.  Multiple piles in various sizes littered the floor, making a small maze around his desk.  He finished the last bit of his Chinese takeout, Y/N quickly taking it and disposing of it so he had more room.  It was late on a Wednesday night, everyone else had left hours before, and even the cleaning crew and security had been shooed away from his office and were banned from the floor for the rest of night to let him work in peace.

“Fuck!” he huffed, shoving the papers away, Y/N taking them from him before they could fall to the floor.  “How did we miss this?”  

“I’m sure you’ll find it, Buck,” Y/N said, rubbing his shoulder gently.  “Your team was looking all day.  I’ve been double checking everything right after you.  We’ve still got a few packets left, I’m sure the letter will turn up soon.”

Bucky needed a letter for his client’s divorce court hearing coming up in two days that had somehow been missed in scanning into their file.  It was an eleventh hour situation, the bulk of his case riding on the letter as evidence.  He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair once again.  “I know, we’ll find it.  I’m just tired and…my anxiety is through the roof.”

Y/N frowned, then stepped behind his chair.  She started massaging his shoulders and neck, his head immediately falling forward as he groaned.  Her fingers worked over the knots in his muscles, reaching down toward his front then back up to his neck.  Her nails started to scratch up into his hair, sending tingles over his scalp and shivers down his spine.  He sighed again, his body finally starting to relax.  “It’ll be okay, handsome,” she said quietly.  

Bucky huffed a short laugh, then looked back at her.  “Work is work,” he said lowly, a slight warning in his tone.

“Yes, yes, but it’s after hours,” Y/N smirked, continuing to massage his neck.  “And no one is here.  So technically, we’re not at work.  We just happen to be in the building.”

Bucky smirked back at her.  “Bending the rules, huh?  Trying to find loopholes?”

Y/N shrugged, arching an eyebrow at him.  “Just doing what my lawyer boyfriend taught me.  You can interpret the law in many different ways.”

He turned his chair around to face her, grasping her hands in his.  “That’s dangerous,” he said, his thumbs rubbing over her knuckles.

“Or fun,” Y/N said, letting go of his hands so she could lean against the arm rests of his chair, caging him against it.  Her face was in front of his, watching the anticipation and desire flit across his expression.  “You’re so tense, handsome, how about I help relieve some of that anxiety, hm?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly dropping open as he stared at her.  “How would you do that?” he whispered.

Y/N’s smirk widened to a wicked smile.  She dropped to her knees in front of him, pushing his legs apart before reaching up to his belt, undoing it quickly.  “Let me make you feel good,” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth from his groin to his face.  She unbuttoned his slacks, then started pulling them and his underwear down, freeing his already hard cock as she bunched them down around his ankles.  Bucky exhaled sharply, his hands tightening on the arm rests as her fingers slid back up his legs toward his core.  “I’ll help you relax, rest for a little while, then we can get back to it.  Okay?”

He nodded, swallowing harshly.  “Okay,” he said simply.

Y/N smiled, leaning up to kiss him quickly before kissing down his neck, his chest, his abdomen and on down to his cock.  She kissed the tip, reaching up to grip him in her hand and start stroking him as she licked him from shaft to tip.  Bucky gasped then moaned, his stomach flinching at the pleasure shooting through his lower half.  He was already throbbing in her hand, and she bit back a wide smile as she took him into her mouth, suckling at the tip for a good long while as her hand stroked him, her wrist flicking every time she got close to the head before going back down.  She opened her mouth wider and took him in further, her cheeks hollowing to suck hard at his length.  Bucky’s hands moved from the arm rests to her jaw and hair, pulling it back while guiding her head up and down his cock.

“Fuck, doll.  You’re so good at this,” Bucky groaned, his voice breathy and deep.  “Can you take all of me…do you think?  Please?”

Y/N glanced up and gave him a wink before focusing back on her task, popping off of him before diving back in, squeezing the base of his cock as she slid him further in, the tip hitting the back of her throat.  She gagged a little bit before recovering, letting the back of her tongue get used to the feel of him so far inside her mouth.  She bobbed her head up and down on him, his fingers gently cradling her jaw, the hand in her hair slightly tightening at random points when his desire pulsed in her mouth.  Y/N went further, relaxing her throat and her tongue so she could take him down into her throat.

“Holy shit!  Doll, dammit,” Bucky said, his head falling back against the chair.  “Can you swallow me?”

Y/N let her muscles go, the muscle memory kicking in and her throat closing around him as she swallowed his girth even deeper.  Bucky shuddered, his eyes shut tight as his hips trembled.  She continued to bob up and down on him, letting him dip down into her throat repeatedly as she tried to breathe through her nose, tears starting to stream down her face at how wide she had to open her mouth, her jaw starting to ache, the pressure against the walls of her throat constricting as she fought back the urge to gag.  She could taste his precum and it made her moan.

“Oh god, if you do that again, I’m not gonna last, doll,” Bucky warned, still guiding her head up and down on himself.  “Or maybe that’s what you want?  Huh?  You wanna taste me?  Swallow everything I give you?”  Y/N nodded, her hands massaging his thighs as she quickened her pace, sucking him hard as she moved up, then opening her throat as much as possible as she moved back down, almost teasingly bouncing on him when he slipped down her throat.  His hand suddenly gripped her jaw tight, his other hand on her head keeping her all the way down on him, her nose nestled in his pubic hair as his hips rutted up and he started to fuck her mouth.  “Stay right there, doll.  Goddammit, holy fucking shit you feel amazing.  Most amazing, wet, sloppy mouth, and just for me, isn’t it?”

Y/N hummed in affirmation, the vibration around his cock making him shiver.  He rutted up into her, sliding his cock in and out fast, barely letting her suck at him before he was moving again.  “I’m gonna cum…fuck.  Are you sure I can cum in your mouth?”  She slightly nodded again and he huffed a laugh.  “Perfect babydoll, you know that?  My perfect, pretty doll.  Take it, I’m…I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips shook, his cock pulsing before he came, shoving himself all the way into her mouth.  Y/N moaned as she felt his cum slide down her throat, hot and thick as she swallowed around him over and over again, milking everything she could out.  Bucky was panting above her, his hands sliding from her hair and tenderly holding her jaw again, helping pull her up and off of him slowly.  Y/N pulled off of him with a pop, inhaling deeply then coughing before she swallowed the last bits of him in her mouth before licking her lips.  Bucky’s fingers wiped away her tears, and she looked up at him, her adoring smile matching his.

“Feel better?” she asked breathlessly.

Bucky chuckled, leaning forward and kissing her deeply before pulling back just enough to nuzzle her nose.  “Yes, much better,” he replied.  “But what about you?”

“I’m fine,” she shook her head.  “I wanted to do that for you.  You can take care of me later.  And let’s be honest, fully fucking me in the office might actually be crossing the ‘work is work, home is home’ line right?”

“And sucking me off isn’t?” Bucky asked incredulously, making her laugh.  “And who said anything about fully fucking?  What if I…”  He suddenly stood and hauled her off her knees, hoisting her up onto his desk.  Papers in the leftover packets started slipping off, making a mess on the floor, and Y/N whined at the extra work they’d just created for themselves.  But she was quickly distracted by Bucky laying her back against the desk top, his hands rucking up her skirt then pulling off her underwear, sticking them in his pocket before feeling up her legs.  “What if I eat you out real quick?”

“Real quick?” Y/N scoffed. “Since when are you ever quick when it comes to eating me out?”

“Never,” Bucky shrugged.  “But there’s a first time for everything.”  He dove down between her legs, his mouth attaching itself to her clit immediately.  There was no foreplay or lead up like he normally would, just deep licks, sucks and kisses along her pussy.  He got her wet enough to stick his fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out as his tongue flicked her clit incessantly.  

“Oh my god, Buck!”  Y/N cried out, her hips shaking and bucking against his face.

“That’s it, Y/N, let me have it,” Bucky murmured against her, the vibration of his deep voice reverberating along her pussy lips.  “Give it to me doll!”

He sucked on her clit hard as his fingers curled deep inside her without stopping their thrusting pace.  Y/N’s back arched, the desire peaking in her core, and she bit the back of her hand to stop herself from screaming as she came hard, a gush of her slick spilling from her pussy right into Bucky’s awaiting mouth.  She shook against the desk, panting heavily while he licked up all she gave him.  

“So sweet, doll.  Always so sweet,” he groaned, kissing his way back up to her face.  He kissed her, making her taste herself, dipping his tongue into her mouth, combining their cum on her tongue.  “So good to me,” he said, pulling away and smiling down at her.

Y/N smiled back at him, her fingers caressing the side of his face.  “My handsome man,” she breathed.  “Always so good to me.”

Bucky stared at her for a moment, then his eyes flicked to the papers under her head and back to her.  His brow furrowed and he looked back at the papers.  “Wait,” he said, leaning forward and reading the text under her hair.  “No fucking way,” he smirked.

“What?” Y/N said, trying to turn her head to look where he was looking.  

Bucky lifted her up off the desk, adjusting her skirt before reaching forward and grabbing the paper off the desk.  Y/N looked over his arm as she read it, then he fully laughed.  “This is it!” he yelled, holding it up high then nearly shoving it in her face.  

Y/N skimmed it quickly then smiled, jumping up and down as she and Bucky cheered and celebrated.  “Ugh, finally!” she sighed, leaning against his desk.  “Can I scan it in and then we can go home?”

“Yes,” Bucky chuckled, hugging her tight.  He kissed her forehead and cupped her face in his hands.  “Thank you for relieving my stress.”

Y/N smirked.  “Anytime, handsome.”

[elizabeth-holland24]

Snowed In at the Country Inn - Chapter 6

The town of Sweetwater’s Holiday Gala was a big deal. An annual, glitter-covered, nostalgia-fuelled explosion of lights, music, and slightly burnt cider. And this year? The whole community centre was getting a makeover, inside and out.

Naturally, Natasha had volunteered the two of you for the bulk of the decorating committee.

"You and Jake are such a dream team," she'd said with a grin that was all too smug. "Might as well put that chemistry to good use."

You'd protested weakly, muttering something about 'community spirit' and 'holiday goodwill,' but you still ended up shoulder to shoulder with Jake Seresin, your name scribbled in glitter pen next to his on a volunteer sign-up sheet.

So here you were, in the middle of the gymnasium, balancing on a ladder to string up fairy lights while Jake held it steady below.

“You sure you don’t want me up there instead?” he called, glancing up with a lopsided smile that had grown frustratingly charming.

“If I trusted you not to slap lights up all uneven, maybe,” you replied, reaching for another hook.

“Ouch. Right in the confidence.”

You bit your cheek to hide your smile, focusing instead on the task at hand. Jake looked particularly relaxed today—flannel sleeves rolled up, easy grin in place. It was annoying how well he wore holiday cheer.

"You know," he added, voice a little softer now, "I think I preferred being trapped with you overnight. Less climbing. More beanbags."

You paused. Your heart gave a traitorous flutter. But before you could form a response, someone called your name from across the room.

"Well, I’ll be damned. Is that you?"

You turned, blinking in surprise. “Lucas?”

He stood with that same lopsided grin you remembered, hands tucked in the pockets of a worn winter jacket. Lucas: the boy who used to share firefly jars with you during childhood summers, who once climbed halfway up a tree to pick you a flower and got stung by a bee for his efforts.

“In the flannel-covered flesh.” He opened his arms, and you laughed, giving him a quick hug. “Wow,” you breathed. “I had no idea you were still going around towns”

“Well, I moved here back last year,” he said, smiling. “Wasn’t expecting to run into you again, though. Thought you were off planning parties in some big city.”

“I was. Am. Kind of... got stranded here,” you admitted, rubbing your neck. “Storm changed a lot of plans.”

Jake watched silently from the ladder base, lips pressed in a neutral line, as you and Lucas talked and laughed like no time had passed.

“Apparently for the better,” he teased, flicking a glance over your shoulder — and that’s when you remembered Jake, standing a few feet away, now unusually quiet.

“Oh—Jake,” you turned, gesturing. “This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Jake Seresin.”

Jake gave a small nod, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Lucas replied, polite but focused on you. “So, you’re part of the decorating crew too?”

“Against my will,” you joked, nudging him. “They caught me in a vulnerable moment.”

Lucas laughed. “Well, good thing they did. This place could use a little Hallmark magic.”

Jake’s jaw shifted subtly, but you didn’t notice it right away. You were too busy catching up with someone who once knew a softer version of you — before grief, before ambition hardened you.

When you walked off with Lucas to carry a tub of garlands, Jake stayed back, arms crossed, watching.

You didn’t notice the shift in Jake’s expression, but Natasha, who had just walked in with a box of ornaments, certainly did.

She smirked as she passed him. “Looks like someone from her past is full of holiday cheer.”

Jake didn’t answer, just watched the two of you carry a tub of garland off to the corner. His hands flexed slightly at his sides.

Lucas was a piece of your life Jake hadn’t known about—and he didn’t like that.

Natasha sidled up beside him, eyebrows raised. “That wouldn’t be a jealousy scowl I’m seeing, would it?”

“He’s an old friend,” Jake muttered.

“Mmhmm. And yet you look like you want to throw that garland tub at his head.”

He didn’t answer. He just kept watching, as if trying to understand why the sight of you laughing with someone else made his chest feel tight.

You didn’t notice his expression. Not right away. But when you returned to Jake's side, you could feel the shift.

"Something wrong with the lights?" you asked.

"Nope. Just watching our new team recruit make his move."

You blinked. "What? Lucas? He's just being nice."

Jake scoffed. "Sure. Nice. In that 'I-wanna-see-if-she’s-single' kind of nice."

You crossed your arms, a little defensive now. "Even if he was, it’s none of your business."

His eyes locked with yours. "Isn't it?"

There it was again. The air thickening. Something almost real stirring beneath the surface. But you turned away, retreating to the storage boxes under the pretence of needing more tinsel.

By the time evening fell, the whole town seemed to be buzzing with whispers.

Jake and you had been spotted together again. First, the scavenger hunt. Then, the overnight incident. Now, Gala prep.

Mrs. Ellery, the local postmaster, had not-so-subtly winked as she passed by. "You two planning to be on the Gala's kissing contest list? Just saying, there’s a sign-up sheet."

You groaned. Jake, of course, grinned. "Depends. Would I be kissing her as part of the contest, or just because she can't resist me?"

You swatted him with a ribbon spool.

Later that afternoon, you and Jake found yourselves alone again, sorting through tangled tinsel and trying to make sense of an extremely disorganized box labelled “misc.” Jake was unusually quiet. You didn’t notice at first—not until you’d said something about adding bells to the photo booth backdrop, and he hadn’t offered a single sarcastic retort.

“You okay?” you asked. He shrugged. “Just didn’t realize you had someone like Lucas waiting in the wings.”

You frowned. “He’s not waiting. We’re just catching up.” Jake’s eyes flicked to yours. “You looked happy.” You hesitated. “It’s… complicated. He’s from a time when things were simpler. Summer nights and lemonade kind of simple. That doesn’t mean it’s what I want now.” Jake nodded slowly. “Right. The simpler time. Before donuts and Texas boys with too much attitude.”

A laugh escaped you, but you quickly sobered. “I’m just trying to figure things out. I wasn’t expecting… this.”

He stepped closer. “Neither was I.” After that it was quiet, but Jake didn't press. He just nodded and went back to sorting through ribbon. Still, something had shifted. You could feel it in the silence between you, heavier than before.

By evening, the decorating was nearly done. The gym looked like something out of a snow globe—twinkling lights, velvet ribbons, and mistletoe hung at strategic corners.

“Nice work,” Jake said, surveying the space. “We made a decent team.”

You smiled, brushing a bit of glitter from your cheek. “Against all odds.”

Jake stepped closer, just enough to feel the tension hum again between you. He looked down at you like he had something on the tip of his tongue.

“You ever think about staying?” he asked.

You blinked. “What?”

“Here. In Sweetwater. You said it reminds you of a town when you were a kid. You seem… like you fit.”

You swallowed. “Jake, this is temporary. I’m only here because I got sent by a Santa.”

He nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”

But the way he looked at you—soft, almost unsure—told you that maybe he was starting to wish it wasn’t so temporary.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe even soften it, but then your phone buzzed. A text from Lucas.

Got the cocoa station lights working. Still up for cocoa tonight?

You felt Jake glance at the screen. You didn’t answer right away.

And that silence said enough—for now.

Jake stood too. But he didn’t chase the moment.

He just said softly, "You know, I meant it. Something changed."

You turned to him fully, heart caught somewhere between fear and hope. “So what now?”

Jake looked at you, really looked, like every ounce of charm was stripped back. “Now, well, It's up to you. It's your move, but maybe… maybe you could let me keep trying to earn a place in your plans.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

Because something had to change. And that was the scariest part of all.

A/N: Here is another chapter in celebration, I'm almost done with my 1st week back at college. Who gave me the confidence to think that taking calc 3 and differential equations would be easy. I want to die, and it's only the first week.

[evolutionsvoid]

When it comes to the infamous sea monsters of the depths, one can see a clear pattern in which are found to be the most terrifying. Size is a, fittingly enough, big one, as there will always be the fear that comes when you encounter something that dwarfs your vessel. A creature that could wreck your ship with hardly any effort, sometimes not even realizing what it had done! That plays into the strength that also gives them notoriety, as there are plenty of legends about leviathans that smashed through armor and scale with ease, or dragged a hooked ship to the ends of the world. Strange powers and abilities factor in too, but the common theme seems to be the ship wrecking part. So many of these infamous monsters are known because they can destroy whaling ships, as that seems to be the ultimate feat. After all, what is scarier then that? Why would any other beast make this list if it couldn't send a vessel and its crew to the bottom of the sea? And this is mostly true, as many creatures carved into legend are leviathans or leviathan-like, massive sea monsters of incredible size and ferocity. But for those who take a closer look at some carvings or tales, they may notice an odd one amongst them. A beast that is much smaller than any leviathan, and who could never even put a dent into an armored galleon. Yet, it is a species that has been preserved in folklore through fear, haunting many horror stories and the imaginations of fishermen. Compared to a leviathan, the Kothodo is small fry. But when you see one in action, you quickly understand that there are other ways to terrify the soul outside of sheer bulk and brawn.

The kothodo is a species of pinniped, as can be seen with its flippered limbs, blubbery hide and semiaquatic lifestyle. They are a bulky beast, their form thick with muscle and fat, with an iconic maned hump to their back. Their flippers are clawed, perfect for grabbing slick shores and blubbery prey. They swim through the seas like a seal, but when on land, their back flippers can rotate to help them walk, in an awkward way. Unlike other semiaquatic beasts, the kothodo hunts both in the sea and on land. Its primary diet is other pinnipeds, though it will feed on invertebrates or other seal-sized beasts. But even when eating seals, it should be noted that there is one specific piece they go after, and this is where their infamy arises.

The head of a kothodo is a wretched sight indeed. It is ugly and blocky, sporting cheek fins and sharpened vibrissae. But the real star of the show is its serrated tusks, which serve as cruel weapons. The interesting thing about these "tusks" is their sheer mobility, as they can both rotate and change positions. A kothodo can have these blades held "up" or "down." The up position has them posed like the mandibles of a beetle, with barbs lining the inside. But then the kothodo can flip them down, where they hang like saber fangs, with the hooked edges either remaining in this claw orientation or rotating to face the beast. Powerful muscles and flexible cartilage allows this strange movement, letting the kothodo adapt its teeth to any situation. And where these weapons are deployed is the hunting and capturing of its prey. Because the unfortunate fact is that the kothodo tends to begin the feeding process without killing its food, as it wastes no time going after its favorite treat: brains.

While the kothodo does feed on flesh and other organa, the part it wants the most is the brains. Its entire hunting process revolves around getting prey into the right position for cranial intrusion. Its barbed flexible tusks my seem like weapons for skewering and slicing, but in truth they are more used for restraint. The kothodo chases down prey and uses its tusk to grab them by the neck. The rotating nature of these tools lets them perform this action in and out of the water, morphing depending on its position. Fang mode is when the kothodo is above or on top of its prey, shoving its tusks down to grab the neck. When chasing its food, the tusks will be more like pincers, so it can lunge forward and snag the fleeing morsel. The point is to grab the target and allow the kothodo to use its strength and tusks to wrangle it into position. The twin blades will grab around the neck, locking the head in the perfect spot. Then comes its razor whiskers and powerful lips, stripping away flesh and latching onto the skull. Once all is secured, the jaws will help crack the skull and the kothodo will use its tongue and specially shaped maw to create a powerful sucking force. Like a pump drawing water from a well, this suction is used to further force open the cranium and pull out the brains. This is, unfortunately, how most prey dies, getting their brains sucked out as this bulky beast practically smothers you in its clawed grip. After the best part is eaten, the kothodo will feed on the rest, tearing the corpses into small strips and pieces to be sucked down its throat.

For seals and other similar marine beasts, the kothodo is a terror. It is a predator that plagues them both in the sea and on land. Underwater, they tend to ambush their prey, lurking around favorite feeding grounds. Prey is snared and their brains are extracted right there, afterwards the kothodo will drag the corpse back to solid land. On the shores, these tusked nightmares attack resting colonies, picking the times when the seals are most tired or distracted. Their rotating limbs help them move faster than the awkward bouncing seals, though not by much. But with sheer bulk on their side, they barrel into prey and force them to the ground. In some cases, their sheer size and weight can crush victims. When a kothodo feeds, it is a terrifying sight. But it can get much worse, because that terrible eye will look to you as the next course...

They love seal brains, but in truth, any brain will do. Large fish and other aquatic beasts can be on the menu. Sea Devils are threatened by them, which is why folks think they developed those horns, to keep that vile mouth away from their skulls. The upsetting fact is that humans are not omitted from this, as the kothodo will happily dine upon man. This is where the tales of terror arise, as they will totally target a person if they see the opportunity. On massive ships, the kothodo can do nothing, but on smaller vessels like fishing boats or whaleboats, this beast is a threat. It will use its bulk to ram into the vessel, hoping to either flip it over or knock someone overboard. When prey goes into the drink, the kothodo is quick to rush them and grab on. Clawed flippers hold them in place and the tusks lock around the neck. Victims better hope help is close by to start shouting and stabbing, because what comes next is a terrible way to go.

Kothodos are both hunted and culled, with many slayings coming from when they get too close to settlements or favorite fishing spots. The beasts are smart and know where prey will gather. Fishermen going out to their usual location to cast out nets will be a target, as their small boat and lone nature makes success for the kothodo that much easier. When corpses with violated skulls wash ashore, you know one of these brain eaters is responsible. Thus, they must be hunted and slain. Piercing weapons are needed, to bite deep through the thick blubber and muscle. Shields are advised to ward away its moving tusks, as the beast will try to grab you with them. Though kothodo are smart, they face the ironic weakness for brains. That organa captures their attention, driving them to feed with little thought of consequence. Thus, brains are the perfect bait to draw one out.

Slaying a kothodo nets one plenty of flesh and blubber, all of it tinged with a bit of Phlegm. While it often isn't enough to grant medicinal properties, the meat gains a pleasing after taste and supposed mental clarity. Their blubber can be rendered into oil that gives lanterns and candles a calming glow. However, superstition claims that bathing in this light for too long will awaken a hunger within a person, suddenly having the craving for fresh flesh. Their leather and manes are used for garments, while the tusks make obvious weapons. Good materials can come from kothodos, but their brain-eating tendencies and infamy causes many seafolk to eye this stuff with caution. Plenty of stories about people being corrupted by the clothes and weapons, gaining madness and a hunger for brains. If one does wield and wear kothodo materials, it is advised to tone it down around seafolk. And also don't wear it when you have a cold or are inflicted with allergies. Kothodos have a wheezing bellow and call, and if you start making sounds like that, people are going to start freaking out. They will think you are morphing into one, becoming a were-kothodo, when man is transformed into a terrible brain-eating monstrosity. Is this a real thing? Hard to say, but some paranoid folk may not dwell on that fact too much before they start stabbing.

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

"He Who Flops On All Fours"

And we bring an end to a month of FOI sea beasts with a rather odd, but fun, fellow! Based on the supposed reports that walruses can use their powerful suction to suck out seal brains. Still kinda unsure if this is an actual thing or not, as I can't find anything real solid about it, but regardless, it led to a bit of inspiration!

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Ask: Scent kink

Dabi is already in trouble from the moment he decides that he wants Tomura's attention no matter what he's doing. His new lover is usually pretty good about making sure he's cared for, but he's been busy dealing with some extra work from All For One, and Dabi is feeling neglected. He's not so unaware that he wouldn't notice that even the slightest shift to feeling like he's being ignored makes him antsy, violent, and prone to ruining his life and the lives of others around him. But in Shigaraki's case, he's very, very lucky that fucking with his computer, work files, or phone means that he would also be in trouble with AFO, and he does not want to deal with that. Which means he has to find a way of fucking with his lover without getting in trouble publicly.

Which means sneaking into his room after six days of Shig being worked non-stop. Duster barely sleeps in the first place, but Dabi knows better than most that the crash after doing something mentally taxing for days like being a perfect general for someone with astronomical expectations all while running on zero sleep and having to keep up with an entire crew of other people who are looking for guidance is a lot. He also knows that's enough to knock out even the worst insomniac. Maybe a nicer man would leave Duster to sleep. But Dabi is not a nice man, and neither is Shigaraki. So he thinks it's acceptably villainous when he sneaks into his room, locks the door behind himself, and crawls into bed with his lover.

Tomura doesn't even flinch for once. His breathing stays soft and even, his face relaxed for the first time in days, making the apparent exhaustion he's trying to remedy all the more apparent on his features. His hair is damp still from his shower and is curling around his ears, his chest bare and only a thin pair of pajama bottoms along his legs. He always wears his gloves to bed to keep his quirk at bay, but that isn't enough for him right now. He wants attention and if he's going to get in trouble, then he really might as well go all the way. He leans over him and goes for the handcuffs that his lover keeps in his bedside drawer and very carefully locks his hands to the headboard so that if Duster wakes before he's finished acting up, he won't be able to grab him and pin him to the bed. Then he moves down his body.

Just laying against Tomura's skin makes him feel a little warmer, a little more relaxed. He didn't know how much being in a relationship would effect him, but having someone who gives him attention, makes him feel good, and is just there has really been fucking with an unholy amount of things in his brain. He knows that he's never going to be the same as he kisses and licks along Shig's neck, finding the raised scars of his own nails and the scent of his skin as he presses in as closely as he can without waking the other man. The soap he uses is the same soap that Dabi does, just some shitty bulk stuff that is being used to stock the base, but his skin smells different. Like how smoke clings to Dabi's, Tomura's quirk has seeped into his. He smells like cold and rain, his skin even cool to the touch like he's a corpse beneath his palms. But when he cuddles in to drink in that smell, he can press his cheek to his chest and feel it move and hear the very slow, steady beat of his heart behind his ribs. For a second he thinks that maybe he could just lay like this, listening until that sound soothes the restlessness under his skin, and go to sleep. Tomura would take care of him when they wake up, he would kiss him sweetly and say how much he missed him while he was working. But that would be the smart thing to do, and Dabi only has room in him for bad decisions tonight.

Dabi slips down his lover's body and spreads his thighs open to make himself somewhere comfortable to lay before he catches the waistband of his pants and pulls it low enough to get at Tomura's soft cock. Soft, but still big, and thick, and perfect to fill him up. He nuzzles his nose against the sparse thatch of pale hair curling at his base, his scent even stronger here and immediately sending his head floating and his mouth starting to water as he licks and kisses his way along him. He hasn't had many things in his life that he can say that he enjoys, let alone things that he enjoys all for himself, but sucking his lover's cock, not even that, just filling his mouth with his skin and knowing that he'll be rooted to this spot until his jaw is numb and there's nothing else in focus around him anymore, that is more than satisfying to him. He loves doing this when his partner is asleep too, though he does usually give Duster some forewarning, because it frees him from expectation as well. He can just do what he wants without worrying that he's going to be rushed along.

So he takes his time. He was just planning on warming his cock, and he will do that, but the scent of him, the taste of him, is already so intoxicating that all Dabi wants is to get more of it. And he knows that he'll have that if he licks and sucks him properly. Dabi goes slowly though, he licks him until Tomura is dripping with his saliva, working his tongue along his balls as well as he takes his entire sack into his mouth to get him soaked there too. Duster shifts just a little in his sleep, giving a soft sigh of pleasure, but he really is out cold if he hasn't woken yet, and Dabi hopes that means he'll get to have all of his fun uninterrupted tonight.

He moves from his balls to his hardening length, replacing his mouth with his hand and massaging slowly as he feels the tension there already. They fuck almost every day, and six days without sleep, without a break, without him has certainly made his lover's body miss him. If Dabi could purr he would be as he presses a teasing kiss to the reddening head of his lover cock as it fills, flicking his tongue against him and delighting in how much harder he gets with so little stimulation. Normally Tomura ignores his need for ages as he tortures Dabi's body with such sharp pleasure, but this time he has the other man completely defenseless beneath him, and his body is clearly eager for release.

Dabi suckles at his head, licking and flicking his tongue over him, not ever taking him into his mouth properly. It's a cruelty to deny them both what they want, but he's willing to wait for once because Tomura is making little sounds in his sleep as his cock hardens completely. His hips twitch up, trying to get deeper into his hot mouth, and he lets out soft little gasps and whines when Dabi pulls back every time. Sounds he's never heard out of his lover before and that send a heady rush through him to hear now. He strokes his balls and teases his head, treating his cock more like a sucker than anything else until he starts to leak. Then he stretches his lips around him again, this time taking his whole head inside and starts to suck at him in long slow pulses. Each one has a little more pre spilling bitter across his tongue, maybe a little more bitter than usual as he tastes him, his head starting to feel foggy with every lick.

Tomura whines and rolls his hips to try and get more, and Dabi isn't really thinking, too cozy surrounded by his lover's scent and thighs. He takes his cock deeper and sucks, still languidly, and it doesn't take nearly as long as it usually does before his lover's balls go tense in his palm and his cock twitches against his tongue. If he weren't busy swallowing the streaks of his release, Dabi is pretty sure he would be a moaning mess because knowing he could bring his lover off is enough to send him all the way into the clouds.

Dabi keeps him in his mouth as through Tomura shifting and squirming, as he softens, and then he rests his temple against his leg as he feeds him as deeply into his mouth as he can before he's closing his eyes and letting himself relax so completely as his lover sleeps on.

///

Dabi isn't sure if he fell asleep or if he was just so deep in his subspace, but his head feels heavy when he opens his eyes as he hears, "Wh--Dabi?"

He moans softly, his mouth tasting like cum and he swallows automatically. He's never heard Tomura cry out like that before and his eyes flick up to him as he feels his cock is hard again. Dabi can feel a puddle of drool and cum that has leaked down his chin as he looks up at Duster who... has a slight flush to his cheeks, and a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. Dabi licks at his cock again and Tomura flinches like he put a hot iron against him.

"Fuck, fuck," He grits his teeth and whines again when Dabi sucks at him. So he does it again. "Dabi, I didn't give you permission--" Dabi shifts, getting him all the way deep inside of his throat again the way he's meant to be. He didn't ask for permission. Permission means that he won't be punished, and Dabi wants to be punished. Punished means that he'll have Tomu's attention all day. Duster grits his teeth, hands tangling on the handcuffs as Dabi starts to suck him off again.

He only realizes that he may have done this a few too many times while he was floating when he feels Tomura's cock twitch and he gasps, but there's barely any fresh cum that coats his tongue. He flicks his eyes up to Duster and finds his dom glaring at him through the slight flush on his cheeks.

"Off."

Dabi feels like a misbehaving puppy as he forces his aching jaw open and slips Tomura's cock from his mouth. He's slick with his spit and streaks of cum and his cock is already soft again and flushed pink from root to tip.

"Untie me."

"Tomura," Dabi slurs, his tongue heavy and his lips sore.

"Ten. Nine. Eight–"

He scrambles up the bed to get the key from the nightstand and unhooks his lover before he reaches 'one'. As soon as his hands are free, one is in Dabi's hair, and the other is grabbing him and twisting him. Duster is trained for close combat and it takes barely a second before Dabi is facedown on the bed, his lover all but growling.

"You couldn't just be patient until morning, could you?"

Dabi yelps as he brings his gloved hand down across his ass with far more force than he usually does to warm him up for hard play. But maybe he already knew Dabi would be warm. Maybe he saw how hard Dabi was from warming his cock for hours and how much more excited he was to be punished.

"I think," his voice low and clearly trying to get himself back under control, "That after all of that, I need to make sure my baby boy is as sore as I am after you misbehaved all night."

"I'm sorry, please, Sir," He whimpers, his cock getting even harder at the prospect.

It really shouldn't be a surprise that he never learned that 'no attention' is better than 'bad attention', but, well, he never would have believed it anyway.

[dandelion-bride]

The Inexplicably Barovian Themed Adventure

Chapter 1: Courage Equal to Desire

Post-game Tav (Zefira Shadebrook) and Astarion adventures. Taste under snip. Mature rating for canon-typical violence, will eventually have smut.

Our story begins on the road through the Cloud Peaks, the mountains that separate the Sword Coast from Amn. A few hours after midnight, only a thin curve of Selûne’s smile peeks through the wispy clouds. The bitter chill of winter is gone from the air, and the damp of spring is seeping in. The whistling wind shakes dead needles off the pine trees. To that melody, the gentle clip-clop of hooves provides rhythm: a small cloaked figure on a pony leads an riderless horse up the road. Both animals carry heavy saddlebags; on the pony, a colorfully-patched knapsack holds a prominent place.

The rider speaks casually to the pony in a friendly, lilting voice. “Called it that while I was chatting with the wizard,” she says, patting the knapsack. “Said that until I had a Bag of Holding, I’d have a Bag of Unholding.” Her tone makes it clear she looks back on the conversation with fondness. “He said that didn’t make any sense, I said ‘only if you think too much about it,’ and the name stuck in my head.” The pony isn’t bothered by the speech or the silence.

Our heroine glances up through tree branches to that small shard of moonlight. She speaks her thoughts out loud again. “Hope Shad’s doing all right. I keep forgetting to Send her in the morning. Wonder what she’s going to put in that garden. I should ask Halsin to check in for the planting. Maybe bring some of the older kids to learn and help. Or go alone and take her out for a night. However they like.”

A smarter bandit would have noted the bulk under her cloak that concealed armor, the shield and sheathed weapons on the pony, or the empty riding saddle on the horse instead of a pack saddle to carry more of the load. A few smarter bandits had, in fact, over the last tenday, noticed these things, and allowed the halfling to pass unbothered on their nighttime journey. Those crews stayed alive, although with the random member found unconscious with a telling wound and heavy blood loss. (A meal is a meal, after all, and no one’s hiding in the woods around a road at midnight for good intentions.)

The bandit leader on this part of the road is not smart. Neither is he polite, but perhaps a bhaalspawn slaughtered all the polite bandits in the area long ago. But he does have a large crew, with a full dozen of them surrounding this ambush spot, and so he confidently strolls out into the road, a few meters in front of the traveler. He lifts the hood on his lantern, unsheathes his sword, and points the tip of the blade at her.

“Well!” The halfling pulls her hood back, and shakes her head a bit. Her short brown curls loosen, and her hazelnut eyes glow when she flicks a mote of fire above her hand. Her voice is entirely unbothered, and she takes the bandit in with friendly curiosity. “Quite a sharp weapon you have there.”

(An arrow pins a man through the neck against a tree. Blood bubbles at the wound and cascades down his chest. He dies silently.)

continue on Archive of our Own

[thecglcatalog]

Fruit Salad Separates: This Summer's Fresh Picks from the Uniform Shop!

A special new collection of garments for ageplay slaves … designed to be pert and cheerful, but still consistent enough that your littles are clearly in uniform!  Adorable fruit motifs adorn these garments – and their colors suffuse the coordinates – rendered with equal charm as a print, an embroidered silhouette, a glossy acrylic button, or a silicone charm.

Provide an all-matching wardrobe for a silly little who’s struggling to come up with outfits to please you … give your household slaves a uniform look that still makes it easy to tell what’s whose in the laundry … or dictate a flexible and understated dress code for slave summer school!

Fruit choices are strawberry (baby pink), peach (light orange), lemon (pale yellow), apple (light jade green), and grape (periwinkle).

Undergarments

Supply a sweet-as-can-be base layer with the Fruit Salad Camiknicker, a step-in garment for pets of any gender!  Sleeveless, scoop-neck tank style with mini shorts is made from our silky lingerie tricot with a slight two-way stretch, so it clings nicely to the body.

Underneath, slaves who are not yet (or no longer) potty trained can wear matching transparent plastic panties.

The Fruit Salad Bralette gives more coverage to slave’s bustline.  In white stretch knit with thin contrast straps, it has one of the fruit icons printed over each nipple.  Pair with all-over-print panties for age-appropriate cuteness, or a white cotton thong with single front fruit print.

Add Fruit Salad Crew Socks – colorful cotton knit, with cuffs that fold down to reveal an embroidered white fruit motif.  Or let little choose opaque tights or split-crotch fishnet tights, available in all fruit tones and white.

Our Knit Drop-Seat All-in-One is an extra-institutional choice when you want baby more bundled than beautified – consider it for adding comforting and constricting bulk to the outfit!

Tops

Classically preppy short-sleeved polo shirt has the fruit printed on the right front lapel, a charming little touch of the cute for a drapey wardrobe basic.  White shirt has fruit-colored lining on the inner collar.

Short-sleeved middy blouse has a kerchief-tie front, slightly cropped hem, and adorably roomy cut.  It’s white with its contrast sailor collar in the fruit color.

Menswear white dress shirt has classic office styling, but makes it endearing with tiny novelty buttons in your chosen fruit at front placket and cuffs.

Also consider our white tulle crop tee for a sheer addition!  Our Butterfly Dance Shrug in white is another summery, minimal-coverage choice for slutty slaves – and most of the tops from our basic school-uniform offerings come in crisp white, too. 

Bottoms

Every school-slave needs one: the pleated skirt, available in all the fruit colors, has a narrow band of white grosgrain ribbon above its hem, emphasizing the movement of the crisp all-around knife pleats.

Or play up the slutty charm with slave’s bare thighs showing beneath the micro shorts, barely-there button-front shorts in the same solids.

For a sleek look, the tennis skirt is an A-line quarter-circle skirt in white twill with the fruit icon printed above the hem. Preppy chic!

Dresses and Bodysuits

The Fruit Salad Onesie is a classic white jersey snap-crotch bodysuit with short sleeves and the fruit icon of your choice printed front and center!

Or if your target age for your regression slave is more “middle” than “little,” why not dress them in the Fruit Salad Sundress?  This cute cotton-print dress is studded all over with the chosen fruit motif.  It has a gored skirt, slightly dropped waist, and sweet knotted shoulder straps.

Compromise between the two with the jumper dress, a cute combination of short flared skirt and low-backed tank.  The square neckline sits a little low so the upper contours of the bustline still show!

Accessories

Give your little a pacifier to suck that matches their simply precious outfit.  Silicone bulbs and coordinating removable hold-in straps make these cute little accents extra-specially useful, and the silicone fruits set into the front shields match perfectly to the printed ones!

The Fruit Salad Pin Box is a keepsake container in the shape of the chosen fruit, split in two by an inner divider.  One half holds bobby pins tipped with either fruit-colored twill bows or a plastic fruit charm; the other half has plastic-accented fruit safety pins.

The neoprene collar and cuffs are matched to the chosen fruit solid for absolute coordination.  

And the Fruit Salad Saddle Shoes are adorable white leatherette flats with fruit-toned color blocking … a retro unisex look that’s deliciously childish!

[sharpcdges]

@drearyknight was insubordinate

Expect the Unexpected. Every team memorialized the S.T.A.R.S maxim each year since its inception: stenciled in centered bold letters atop the Training Manual’s cover, soldered onto a brass plate that hung within the Main Hall. Most recently, scrawled across a bedsheet in greasy spray paint—an abysmal submission to the R.P.D. Banner Contest that rightfully earned last place. The eyesore now hung in their break room, an ode to failure, slovenliness, and all things S.T.A.R.S allegedly were not.  

Peer pressure and banging one’s oversized knuckles atop a hard surface befitted a school playground more aptly than it should the Raccoon City Police Department’s elite unit. 

Amidst the buffoonery, Officer Chambers failed to catch the tell-tale creak of the door behind her. His boots, silent across the office tile, landed his lean bulk in perfect position behind the Rookie; the moment her cohorts fell silent, it was already too late. 

“Is this how Bravo spends their down time?” Captain Wesker tapped his index against a bicep, entertaining the image of snapping her neck backward like flower stem. “Our first floor colleagues continue to perform diligently, and our contributions have amounted to…?” 

He waited a heartbeat—several, accounting for the dovelike terror fluttering behind Chambers’ breastbone, Aiken’s sugar-induced mania, Sullivan’s calm, if age-ragged pulse. Wesker’s mouth twisted in displeasure as Marini’s secondhand crew answered his inquiry with silence.

The late evening sky opened up, and within seconds, thunder rumbled through the building’s brickwork. Weatherbeaten and laden with age, the roof one story above their head groaned. 

“Ah, hell…I left my windows down.” Frost muttered. He rose to his feet, bandana falling back over his hairline, and nearly slipped on a pencil.

First to flinch, first to die—or suffer the consequences, at any rate. Wesker’s prize guinea pigs still had life in them yet. “Your filling in for Dewey is appreciated, Officer Frost. Nevertheless, I believe our traffic patrolmen are down a body. Take your parka and see that they have a support on the street. Sullivan, you have trace evidence left to sample from the McKinney case. The others had better make themselves scarce; there are more than enough statues to polish in the Art Room and old files to digitize in the Records Office."

Aiken slumped in his seat, groaned, and held his head. Frost heaved the remnants of a half-melted Firecracker into the garbage and stomped, red-faced, out of the room.

"And you—" The Captain’s gaze was icy as he regarded the team’s newest member. Delicate little thing. Irons had nearly suffered an aneurism when he’d passed her file, and his personal recommendation, across the Chief's desk, embarking on a twenty minute-long tirade about media perception and preservation of a traditional model, unified by strength. Wesker had allowed him to rant, legs crossed and finger delicately pressed to his temporal vein, if only to see that squashed face take on the color of plums when the phone rang to mandate his decision.

Rebecca Chambers exuded the same wide-eyed vulnerability--the same soft, unmarred skin--that game-sodomizing pig sought during his hunting trips.

The same ravenous hunger for unraveling science's greatest mysteries that Umbrella valued in a researcher.

The same eager naiveté that had both Alpha and Bravo crowding about her, shielding her like a faun.

Wesker turned on his heel with militant precision and stalked toward his office. “With me, Officer Chambers. Now.” 

[ronanziriano]

Augusnippets Day 6 - Shipwreck

The presence of the ship on the horizon was nothing short of a miracle. Whumpee didn’t believe his own eyes when he first spotted it, certain that it was a hallucination.

That wouldn’t have been surprising. He had been floating out here for at least a day, he was pretty sure. His whole body was stiff from having held the same position on the piece of wooden debris that had kept him afloat for so long, and he’d long lost feeling in his hands after so tightly gripping on for dear life. The sun had been beaming down for hours, bouncing off the glassy surface of the ocean that now seemed so calm and innocent, as if it hadn’t capsized an entire bulk carrier the day before; it burned his skin and made it difficult to open his squinting eyes at all.

Whumpee was dehydrated too, he knew. He’d been doing his best to just breathe through his nose throughout this ordeal, but the occasional splash of saltwater still somehow had managed to find its way into his throat, leaving him parched and sore. And that wasn’t the only part of him that was sore - he had hid the water hard, and he knew he had snagged himself on a couple of chunks of sharp debris before managing to find one that could support him. It was hard to determine what exactly his injuries were, though; the ache was all over, and his precarious position made it impossible to give himself any sort of examination.

Sailors before him had seen things that weren’t there out at sea under much better conditions. So lying there sunbaked and hurting and exhausted, Whumpee didn’t trust his own eyes, even as the ship pulled nearer and more clearly into view.

It didn’t even fully occur to him that he was being rescued when two sets of hands grabbed him by the arms, shouting something incomprehensible either to him or to each other. He was a dead weight in the other men’s arms, to sore and tired to do anything but groan softly as he was hauled into the little rowboat, where he was laid flat onto the boat’s floor. What really woke him to the realization, though, was the sensation of water dripping between his lips - actual, fresh, salt-free water.

As he instinctively sucked up the water, he roused enough to squint his eyes open. The sun was still too bright to see much besides a silhouette of one of the men in the rowboat, but it was close and solid enough to convince him that it was real. “You found me,” he croaked out. “You saved - thank you - I - ” He was cut off by more water being pressed to his mouth, and he drank it gratefully. The men began some sort of conversation around him, and Whumpee didn’t bother trying to focus on their words. He just drank, relishing the water, enjoying the sway of the boat as it was rowed and finally lifted back into the ship it came from.

He was lifted up to his feet in order to cross onto the deck of the ship, where the men set him down onto his knees in front of a handful of crew members who had been waiting on the rowboat’s return.

“Thank you,” he said again. If he’d had enough water in him to cry with relief, he would have. “Thank you, thank - ”

This time he was cut off not with water, but with a prick of pain at his neck. His eyes opened fully in surprise, and he focused on the face of the sailor before him - long hair and beard, both scraggly and unkempt; waxy, yellowing skin; a sharp-toothed smile that was too wide to be friendly. The man got close to his face, close enough that Whumpee nearly winced away from the stench of rum and fish, and would have if the cutlass under his chin wasn't holding him frozen in place.

“Oh, don’t thank us,” the sailor - no, the pirate - said in a gravelly rumble. “It’s our pleasure to have you aboard.”

@augusnippets

[urbanstreetfashion]

How to Style Streetwear for Men: Best Practices for Every Season

Streetwear has grown far beyond a passing trend—it's now a lifestyle and a staple in modern fashion. Whether you're new to the game or looking to refine your wardrobe, understanding how to style streetwear for guys across different seasons can help you stay comfortable and sharp year-round. From layering in the cold months to breezy essentials during summer, here’s how to make the most out of your mens streetwear collection—season by season.

Spring Style: Transition with Layers and Light Fabrics

Spring is all about balancing between chilly mornings and warm afternoons. The key to street style clothing men prefer during this season is mastering lightweight layering. Think denim jackets, flannel shirts, windbreakers, and oversized hoodies over a simple graphic tee or plain crew neck.

Pair these with cargo pants or relaxed joggers for a casual look. Low-top sneakers, crossbody bags, and bucket hats can elevate your men's streetwear outfits without looking overdone. Go for muted tones with a few pops of color to reflect the freshness of the season.

Best practice: Keep a light outer layer handy. It adds dimension to your outfit and can easily be removed as the day warms up.

Summer Streetwear: Keep it Cool and Functional

Summer demands breathable fabrics, relaxed silhouettes, and functional accessories. Stick to cotton or linen tees, mesh or basketball-style shorts, and snapbacks to build comfortable yet stylish summer outfits men's streetwear fans will love.

Graphic tees, sleeveless shirts, and oversized silhouettes are not just trendy—they help with airflow and comfort. Don’t shy away from bold prints or vibrant colors. This season is about expression, so add contrast with patterned socks, wristbands, or a standout pair of sunglasses.

Footwear like chunky sneakers or slide sandals keeps things casual and cool. For accessories, crossbody bags or belt bags not only enhance your look but also add practicality without extra bulk.

Best practice: Embrace breathable layers. A short-sleeve button-down over a tank top is a great combo that looks great and offers comfort during peak heat.

Fall Fashion: Earth Tones and Texture Play

As temperatures drop, it’s time to reintroduce layers—this time with heavier textures. Corduroy jackets, utility vests, and bomber jackets pair perfectly with oversized tees or hoodies. When thinking of urban wear men's clothing for fall, layering is the name of the game.

You can style mens street style clothing with slim jeans, cargo pants, or tapered joggers. Earthy tones like browns, olives, and burnt oranges help you blend seasonal vibes into your outfit. Beanies and high-top sneakers can tie everything together effortlessly.

Don’t forget the importance of fabrics. Heavier cottons, flannels, and knits not only keep you warm but also bring dimension to your streetwear outfits for guys.

Best practice: Mix textures—pair cotton tees with corduroy or wool layers for a rich and balanced look.

Winter Streetwear: Function Meets Fashion

Cold weather doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice style. Instead, it’s your opportunity to make bold statements with puffer jackets, parkas, layered hoodies, and heavyweight joggers. The best street style clothing men rely on during winter marries function with street-ready style.

Layering a hoodie under a long trench or parka not only keeps you warm but gives off an effortlessly cool look. Add a scarf, gloves, or beanie for a touch of personality and extra warmth. Darker hues dominate winter mens streetwear, but you can still play with contrast using neon accents or reflective accessories.

When it comes to footwear, opt for high-top sneakers or boots that can handle wet or icy conditions. A thick pair of socks and weatherproof outerwear will help you brave the season without compromising your look.

Best practice: Invest in key winter layers that match with multiple outfits—like a neutral-toned puffer jacket or a heavyweight zip-up hoodie.

Styling Tips to Elevate Your Year-Round Streetwear Game

Stick to your fit: Oversized clothing is core to streetwear for guys, but find the size and cut that works best for your body.

Accessorize wisely: A watch, chain, or bucket hat can instantly lift any look without feeling overdone.

Balance loud with neutral: Got a bold tee or jacket? Pair it with neutral bottoms or sneakers to keep your outfit balanced.

Comfort first: Men's streetwear outfits are all about being comfortable and authentic. Choose pieces that feel good and reflect your personality.

Layer smart: Don’t just pile clothes on—think about how each layer adds style, texture, and practicality to your outfit.

Final Words

Whether you’re exploring summer outfits men's streetwear, upgrading your winter layers, or just looking to add new pieces to your wardrobe, remember that streetwear is about self-expression. It's less about following strict rules and more about building a style that resonates with who you are.

At Kolortherapi, we blend bold design with everyday comfort to create men's streetwear pieces that work all year long. From tees to outerwear, find everything you need to elevate your wardrobe. Explore fresh collections and buy men's streetwear online that keeps you effortlessly stylish across all seasons.

[devondeal]

So overall I do love the new Superman suit. A couple of things though. Then a whole analysis of what I liked lol.

I was never a fan of the high collar look though but it doesn’t ruin it for me. Im just glad it doesnt look as military as it does in the New 52 comic look. I always preferred the wider and open collar because it seems more relaxed and less like a uniform if that makes sense.

But yeah I’m not pissed about it either since it flows with the overall design at least and the cape attachment isn’t as clumsy as a design like this could make it. And I’m just relieved it’s not a crew neck like Routh and Hoechlin had. That’s the worst Superman neckline imo.

It is kinda bulky but I’m also glad it’s not a weird muscle suit. I hate the fake abs look with a passion so I’m glad it doesn’t have that. I do hope onscreen the bulk/bagginess isnt as visible.

Some of the suit lining like on the shoulders and knee pads add to the chunkiness. But again maybe thats not as obvious onscreen.

But the good of the suit does outweigh these things to me. It’s actually brightly colored, has trunks, even has the yellow symbol on the cape, and the design is mostly simple. I hate when they overcomplicate. Staying basic is best with superhero suits.

Like I will take a little bit of bulk any day over the Snyder suit’s weird scaly look. Like yes, it was more fitted which is a plus but the scaliness plus the fake abs, puffy chest, and dick cup thing just nope. Along with the muddy ass colors just nope.

I’m pro trunks cuz I’m sorry but lack of the red in between just makes throws off the look for me. Maybe its a color theory thing but the suit being all blue is just off putting. I have yet to see a belt that fixed that problem.

The only time I’ve seen a full blue suit work with the belt was the CW Supergirl show, her second suit which is saying a lot cuz CW suits arent great. Though I do think a woman’s physique does make a difference in how the full blue can look better. The waist to hip ratio difference helps add some dimension plus matching her belt color to her cape clasps. ie:

(I actually fucking hate the cape clasps like how Hoechlin’s first suit had but here they actually made it look ok because of the smaller size and matching them to the belt)

Anyway trunks also take care of hiding that dick. (Sidenote I love that Martha Kent in both MAWS and Lois&Clark: TNAOS are concerned about that 🤣)

I also like how the trunks and belt are connected and again how simple that design is.

The symbol is really nice too. I’m don’t know much about Kingdom Come but it’s ok design. I prefer the traditional but they made this one look really pretty with the yellow outline on the front side and the full yellow symbol on the cape so it’s a yes for me.

Also happy with the size of the symbol on the chest. It’s not oversized like Cain’s was, nor is it way too small like Routh’s. It’s right with Reeve and Cavill being perfectly proportionate to their bodies and suits. (I mainly mean Cavill’s first suit. The second wasnt bad either but they def shrinked it and I don’t get why since that was the one thing I was pleased with his suit about)

The red boots are perfect. Nuff said there.

With the cape length, I love the long look but anything at the knee or longer is good (Reeve’s was at the knee). Anything shorter than the knees look weird to me like a kid’s costume.

Not suit related but he has the curl which makes me happy too