#he looks so regal. also gorgeous

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[somewhereincairparavel]

Alright. I came across someone saying that Rick "put Jason in a pedestal" and "overhyped" him by emphasizing how good looking he is and that Jason shouldn't have been so attractive looking. (Tbf tho that person made it sound like they seemed more mad bc their least favourite character was considered good looking lol) but I'll yap about the significance here anyways. Beware of a very long yapping session below.

I do understand their frustration though, because jason getting told that he looks good all the time makes it seem very shallow and unfair to the others.

And let me tell you, Jason is SUPPOSED to be gorgeous looking in everyone's eyes. He is supposed to be conventionally handsome, Rick didn't intend for his looks to be "beauty is in the eyes of the beholder " or something like Percy's (like how Piper didn't find him as impressive) Percy's is supposed to be more authentic. Percy's character isnt centred in people idolizing him, everyone can acknowledge that he's handsome looking, but it isn't in a "perfect" type of way, he's a carefree spirit and that reflects on his looks. While Jason is hardwired as this ethereal looking hero in people's eyes that not even ONE can deny that he looks good, bc ppl in Rome had set him as the "standard". Jason said this before in the lost hero, that him being a son of Jupiter, makes him feel like the support he gets is only because his dad is a very regal and intimidating figure.

That's kind of the whole point, he's supposed to look like this perfect man who can do no wrong. His "Golden noble boy" arc is literally the whole concept of his character. Why else do you think rick wrote Aphrodite approving of Jason's looks saying that he needed no improvement (which she rarely does) ?

Because Jason is supposed to be put like a statue to admire and idolize, that's ALSO why rick made sure to add that Jason looks like a Roman sculpture, bc that's like a metaphor for his inner conflicts. The guy was put like an artifact for people to ogle at in camp Jupiter ever since he was a kid of 4. That's part of the tragedy.

Annabeth said it perfectly “Annabeth tried to hide it, but she still didn’t completely trust the guy. He acted too perfect - always following the rules, always doing the honorable thing. He even looked too perfect. In the back of her mind, she had a nagging thought. What if this is a trick and he betrayed us?” Mark of Athena, page 6.

His mother, whom he's supposed to look like, is also a literal world wide tv actress. So you can't expect anything less either.

Also, Jason is supposed to mirror Percy. And let's be real. Rick put Percy in a VERY high pedestal looks wise, aswell, Not just Jason. And that's okay.

Rick made Hazel mistake Percy for a literal god because he was just that good looking (tbf, in a way, when I was younger, I found this to be a little bit of an exaggeration, bro was covered in mud and seaweed and was compared to a god, it was rlly funny to a 10 year old me 😭 yeah but don't mind this though, this was just a younger me jealous that I couldn't be as pretty as Percy was in mud lol) If Percy can be "hyped" up so "unrealistically" in that particular situation then so can Jason. They are both literal half gods, so unrealistic praise is very normal) and rick also made sure to emphasize that almost all the teen characters had a crush on Percy. So apparently that isn't called putting a character in a pedestal but Jason's is? They are BOTH put in pedestals, because they're both heroes.

Jason and Percy are supposed to be equals, so both of them being in the top two when it comes to looks makes SENSE. Because people are supposed to argue about who is better looking, since they're written as foils.

You cannot expect rick to make Percy look like a god and Jason look like a rat 😭 then there's no point of having them as parallels if one has the upper hand in something. Rick did a good job by conveying that they are BOTH attractive, but in different ways. That's why the Percy/Jason looks debate always have mixed answers.

Jason getting complimented by Aphrodite, the GODDESS of beauty, for his looks and her saying that he didn't have anything to "fix" in his face BC it already looks gorgeous = Percy getting compared to a gorgeous Roman god by hazel. They are both equal comparisons in slightly different tones.

[dunebrat]

THE PEOPLES PRINCESS

Reader x feyd rautha smut

Summary: you get married off by your father to secure alliances. Despite you knowing your new husbands reputation, you finds yourself drawn to him.

➽─────��───────────────❥

As you stepped onto the arid planet of Arrakis, the sun beat down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the shifting dunes. You, a princess, were escorted by your father, the ruler of your home planet, to marry the infamous Feyd Rautha. Your first encounter with Feyd was chilling. He stood tall and imposing, his eyes cold as they met yours. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

Throughout the preparations for the wedding, Feyd remained distant, barely acknowledging your presence. Amidst the bustling preparations, your father sought you out, his regal bearing softened by a look of paternal concern. He approached you with a tenderness that belied his stoic exterior, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"My dear," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with gravity, "today, you embark on a new journey, one that will shape the course of your destiny."

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions churning within you. "Father," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know not what the future holds, but I will face it with courage and grace."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grasp your hand. "You are a beacon of strength and resilience, my child," he said, his voice filled with pride. "No matter what lies ahead, remember that you are never alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you embraced him.

Your wedding gown, made from the finest silks and embellished with gorgeous lace and brilliant gems, was a vision of grandeur and elegance. Its flowing procession, glistening in the intense desert sun, followed you like a moonlit river. As you stood in the grand hall, waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that once the ceremony commenced, there would be no turning back.

But amidst the fear, there was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this union with Feyd would bring you the happiness and fulfillment you had always longed for. But you know the man that will soon be your husband is no kind man. But as you stood before him at the altar, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce determination. When he leaned in to kiss you, you felt a rush of lust.

On your wedding night, as the grandeur of the ceremony faded into the intimacy of the chambers, you found yourself alone with Feyd. The flickering candlelight casting shadows across the room, adding to your senses heightened.

Feyd, with his usual air of confidence, approached you. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the facade you tried so desperately to maintain. He noticed the tremble in your hands, the uneasiness that lingered in your of your gaze.

"You're scared," he observed, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to deny the truth of his words. "I am," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Feyd closed the distance between you, his presence startling in its intensity, his lips twisted into a knowing smile. He said, "Fear can be a powerful motivator," with an a hint of humor in his voice. "But it can also be mastered."

With a swift yet gentle motion, he reached out to cup your face, his touch surprisingly tender against your skin. His eyes bore into yours with an unwavering gaze, as if daring you to challenge him, to defy the inevitable.

Feyd's eyes raked over your body, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts.

His voice was low and husky, his words a command.

"Strip." The word hung in the air like an order, leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation. You hesitated briefly before complying with Feyd's demand. You unbuttoned your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Underneath you wore nothing but lace underwear and stockings that accentuated every curve on your body.

Feyd's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I want you to know that I am not a man who will be gentle with you," he said in an even tone as if it were simply stating the obvious.

"I will take what I want, and you are to do as I say." The words hung in the air like a threat.

His gaze was intense, his voice commanding. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the way he spoke to you. The words were harsh and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what he had just said. The weight of his words hung heavy on the air between us and for a moment | felt trapped by them.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I will do as you say." The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's hand was on the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding.

He pulled you closer to him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. His tongue invaded your mouth with an almost brutal forcefulness as he claimed it for himself.

His other hand found its way to your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting the nipple until you gasped in pain.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it also sent a strange rush of pleasure through you. You found yourself responding to his touch in ways that surprised even you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice as if he were mapping out a territory. He pulled you closer to him until his hardness was pressed against the soft folds of your sex.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his desire for you palpable. His hands moved down to your hips and he lifted you up so that only the tip of his cock was inside you.

He held you there, teasingly close to the edge of pleasure. "Do you want this?" he asked in a low voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want me to take what I need from you?" The words were a command, not a question. The words were barely out of your mouth before Feyd's grip on you tightened and he thrust into you with a force that left you gasping for air. He fucks you hard and fast, his hips slamming into you with a force that left your body trembling. The pain was intense but it only seemed to fuel the fire of desire burning within him as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, a testament to how turned on you were by his rough treatment.

His hands roamed over your body, leaving bruises and marks that would be a reminder of this night for days to come.

Days passed after the wedding night, and you found yourself adjusting to life as the wife of Feyd Rautha. One evening, as you sat alone in the grand hall of the palace, Feyd approached you with a quietly. His usual stoic demeanor softened slightly as he took a seat beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“May I join you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface.

You nodded, surprised by his sudden display of openness. "Of course," you replied, unable to hide the shyness in your voice.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of activity within the palace walls. And then, with a hesitant sigh, Feyd spoke, his words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I know I am not what you expected," he began, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. "I am not known for my warmth or compassion, but know that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe from harm."

"I believe you husband," you replied softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Merle Oberon (Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Pimpernel)—She was mixed race (born in India and her mother was Sri Lankan) and still managed to make it in the British and American film industries (by passing) despite a rough start in life and industry racism. She was the first Asian person to be nominated for any Academy Award (best actress in 1935)! She also survived a car accident in 1937 and kept on acting until 1973, despite potentially career-ending facial scars. Also, she met her third husband while they were filming a movie together in 1973 (her last movie and she still looks great!). They fell in love and got married in 1975 when she was 62 and he was 36. She died 4 years later in 1979. Iconic.

Jean Seberg (Breathless, Saint Joan)— Some of us watched À bout de souffle as a lil French undergrad and had the trajectory of our lives changed by Jean Seberg. She IS French new wave!! She is the moment!! She sadly had to work with a lot of shitty directors in her career but even so, she has this magnetic energy whenever she’s on screen. In her personal life, she was also very supportive of civil rights causes, and was even targeted/harassed by the FBI for financially supporting the Black Panther Party.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Merle Oberon:

Beautiful. Talented. Biracial. Also please refer to the following promo from the aforementioned A Night To Remember, in which she plays the writer George Sand:

Her performances always give off this perfect blend of of being composed, refined, and aloof while still being deeply passionate and I eat it up every time.

Linked gifset

A rare example of a WOC working in lead roles in this era (mostly because she worked very hard to pass as white and had to hide her south asian heritage sadly). She has this very regal vibe but also a simmering intensity—even holding her own as Cathy opposite Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff.

I need all the gothic fans to STAND UP for our cathy!!

She has such a unique face when it comes to old hollywood actresses - a lot of them start to melt together in my brain - but Merle has always stood out to me<3

Jean Seberg:

anyone who plays Joan of Arc is kind of hot by default tbh

she's gorgeous, she's cool, she has the original blond pixie cut

She donated a lot of her money to civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the black panther party as well as Native American school groups, as a result of this the fbi ran a smear campaign against her and a surveillance campaign which is thought to have led to her suicide tragically.

idk if this is propaganda but the COINTELPRO and the FBI are widely blamed for her death. If the FBI was after her for supporting the Black Panther Party you know she was good

[bittencandy]

𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖐

◈ 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫'𝔰

. toxic relationship themes: controlling behavior, possessiveness, mammon being mammon.

◈ If there was one thing in your relationship with Mammon that you hadn't quite gotten used to yet, it would be how cold he is. Sure, he isn't horridly so. But he's chilly enough that it can surprise you when he touches you when you aren't expecting it. Mostly when he isn't wearing his gloves, the smooth leather working as a buffer between the subtle frost of his palms and your skin. The first time you had felt his bare flesh against your own you had to will yourself not to jerk and move out from underneath his grip from instinct alone. He gets a kick out of it. Seeing how you squirm from the gentle chill. He'll often sneak up behind you, pulling a pair of his gloves off to slip his bare hands underneath your shirt randomly throughout the day and night, reveling in the way that you gasp aloud at their contact. He enjoys it even more when you turn around to scold him. He'll blink at you cluelessly while you glare up at him with insults on your tongue. He loves to play dumb, even when the smile on his face is just a bit too sharp, too big to be truly apologetic or perplexed. 

◈ Due to his chilly body temperature; his body's inability to produce its own heat, he will absolutely use you to steal yours. Any amount of warmth that your body generates, from a lot to a little, it doesn't matter, he will latch onto you like a leech to soak it into his skin. You've practically become a portable heater for the King of Greed at this point, with him toting you around like you're a sack full of feathers, regardless of your height or weight, he will scoop you up with a pair of his arms and secure you to his body. Or he'll have you perched up on his shoulder like some kind of parrot. If you happen to be latched onto him at any point of the day, held within the cradle of his arms or draped along him, he will have you hand feed him food. Whatever he's craving, really. Anything from a bag of potato chips to cupcakes. The healthiest thing he's ever had you feed him was grapes, but you were pretty sure he just did that because you were out in public, and he wanted to "look regal." 

◈ But his desire to hold you also stems from a place of possession as well. It's a silent yet bold way to communicate that you're his without having to say a single word. And his possessive tendencies definitely know no bounds. He absolutely loves it when you wear his colors or anything that could be linked to his image or brand. Anything from diamond and money motifs, shades of green or gold, or if you're bold with it and outright wear his merch and clothing that sports his name or sigil. It strokes his ego like nothing else. Especially if you wear it at your own accord and he doesn't have to convince you to, he'll be so smug about it; practically gloating with that wide smile stretched out across his face and his ego having inflated about ten times bigger than it already is. Like it needs to get any bigger.  

◈ He makes chokers out of his web - collars really and keeps them snuggly secured around your neck at all times. It takes a while for the silk threads to wear down and weaken (typically a few weeks), and as soon as one does it's swiftly being replaced by another, more sturdier string of webbing. But you can't deny that you have a soft spot for the little DIY necklaces. You feel a little sentimental, balmy warmth flutter in your chest every time you catch sight of them in the mirror. And it's an added plus that they're gorgeous in their delicate, silvery glint; reflecting traces of light in a soft green and purple glow with a sort of iridescent shimmer. 

If he's feeling particularly clingy, he may also weave bracelets for both your wrists and ankles for you to wear. He gets upset whenever you wear something may cover them up. Anything that's has long sleeves or a shirt with a high neckline that may keep the choker concealed. The first time you had worn a top that covered up your throat and forgot to slip the webbed necklace out from underneath the fabric he had taken a personal offence to it. Plucking at the fabric of your shirt with his face twisted up in a scowl, the burning chartreuse of his eyes narrowing at the top like its existence was a crime. "What the fuck is this?" He had sneered, eyebrow raising with a curious sort of disdain while he snagged the front of your shirt with the point of his claw; the only thing that kept it from ripping into the material of your top was the glove covering the lethal edge. "You trying to hide our relationship? Does it embarrass you?" An absolute drama queen, really. 

◈ A billionaire he is but a sugar daddy he is not (at least not in the typical sense). Mammon clings to every bit of money he finds, hundred-dollar bills, fives and ones and pennies. He does not care. He's taking it and he won't spend it. Not even on himself. That's the thing with greed, is no matter how much you have, it's never enough. He acts like if he were to spend even a single cent that it would tip him into a financial ruin that he'd never recover from. He cherishes every single ounce of cash that he gets to a concerning degree, but you knew that long before you even started dating him. Regardless, it still was a little disturbing when you walked in on him talking to the bags full of money he had collected after one of his concerts. He was clutching the filled burlap sacks to his chest, breathing in the scent of the bills like they were laced with some sort of drug while he mumbled praises and drooled over them. Even worse was when he caught sight of you watching him and his eyes had turned into slits, zeroing in on you with an animal sort of instinct like you were some kind of threat. "Get the hell out of here!" He snarled, reaching for the bags of cash and the scattered bills that had managed to spill from his fervent hold. "Trying to steal my fucking money! Trying to touch it with your dirty, greedy hands! I dare ya to even fuckin' try it!" You had been quick to back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you with a confused look pinching your face. You're like, ninety-nine percent sure that he may have gotten off to his stockpile of cash before. 

He also counts it obsessively and he remember every single amount that he had. Down the cent. If so much as a penny goes missing, he absolutely loses his mind. 

◈ You had learned a long time ago not to ask him for money. Case and point when you had asked him for a five-dollar bill, all because you had forgotten your wallet before you left the house and wanted a fountain drink. An otherwise harmless request, but then he had accused you of being a 'gold-digger' while you were standing in front of the soda machine. That little comment had resulted in an argument in the middle of the gas station while the cashier and customers watched in fascination. 

But even with his stingy ways, that's not to say that he doesn't spoil you. But it's done in his own way. If he gifts you something, you know for a fact that he didn't pay for it. Everything that he gets, he obtains by abusing his status as a Sin or by name dropping. Reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and clubs, 'buying' clothes from the most praised shops and designers, trips to the best resorts, they're all achieved simply from his name alone. He doesn't pay a single dime. And if some tries to reject him because he refuses to pay the booking fee for a reservation, or if they claim that he 'stole' from a store - let's be honest, he totally did- they're going to find themselves on the top of the Sin's shitlist. No one gets away with refusing the King of Greed and escapes with their social image or life still intact. He's not above ruining other demons to get what he wants. His shame is nonexistent, so if someone tells him 'no' then their body may be found lying amongst the toxic garbage and ruble in one of the many landfills of the Greed Ring. 

But he does greatly care about how he's perceived by the masses, and considering that you're in a relationship with him, your image must also be presentable at all times. He can't run the risk of you damaging his image. So you learned a long time ago to abuse the usage of his name in order to get what you want. Eventually you didn't even have to mention Mammon. Everyone and the Seven Rings of Hell were quick to catch onto your relationship with the Sin, and by proxy, they learned who you are. If you want something, all you have to do is tell them your name, and what you want is as good yours. It doesn't matter if it's a pair of shoes, a car, or a house. There's only a handful of people that would say no to the Embodiment of Greed, and by extension, you. So yes, you absolutely exploit the privileges of being Mammon's lover, so what? 

◈ He expects you to be at all of his shows. It doesn't matter if the events are back-to-back and they all have the same set and routine, you're supposed to be there. Front row. Every. Single. Night. No excuses. And you get extra points if you're wearing his merch. Not going to lie, he's tried to get you to pay for an admission fee, even though he had asked you - invited you, to be at his show. You're the only demon in the history of Hell who will ever get into these events for free. Because you have always been adamant on telling him no. Even when he practically threw a tantrum the first time, skulking around the house, groaning and sighing and mumbling to himself like you were the most unagreeable person on the planet. And the term "mumbling" is used loosely. It could hardly be addressed that way when he was talking to himself in a way that made it more than apparent that he wanted you to hear. Calling you "ungrateful" and "money hungry" and "cheap." The complete bastard.

After he (quickly) figured out that there was no way in Hell that you were going to spend your hard-earned money on his shows, and once you had officially become exclusive (which didn't take long considering his possessive nature) he had moved you from the front row seats and onto one of the overhanging platforms, constructed from his webbing and stationed at every concert. Always safely seated above the raging, downright feral fans as they all clamor against the edge of the stage to get closer to Mammon while he gloats and preens underneath all of the attention. But even with the majority of his focus on performing and giving the crowd some half-assed speech - a large sum of it never failing to be some means to promote whatever new product he's trying to sell - he always wants you to be in his line of sight at all times. He'll lose his composure if you aren't, struggling to keep himself together on stage while his eyes scan the shifting sea of bodies for you, balling a hand up into a fist while he forces himself to save face as not to alarm his fans to his frazzled, irritated internal state. 

◈ This is where more of his webbing comes into play (this is a headcanon that's been mentioned by a few other writers, and I'm inclined to agree that he'd do it). You know those parents who put their kids on a leash? Yeah, he does that with you. But instead of a leash, he has a thread attached to some part of your person to keep track of you at his Clown Pageants or other shows. It's something usually saved for when the choker around your neck and the bracelets around your wrists aren't enough. This is for scenarios when he needs to find you. When there's a potential of you becoming lost. He also likes the power of being able to pull you back over to him if he feels like you're taking too long on returning back to his side or if he feels that you've wondered too far from him. It annoys you to no end, especially considering that last time you had allowed him to attach his web to you and he had grown impatient with you quickly. You had been in the midst of ordering a funnel cake from the built-in concession stand, and apparently, you had taken just a minute too long because before you could even get your hands on the food, you were being tugged by the waist and dragged through the hallway and the crowd until you were returned back to your place on his web. It was humiliating and stupid, but you had been able to form a simple way to communicate with each other through tugging at the thread. Like one pull indicated that you were leaving for something to eat, two was a bathroom break, and three was a silent way of saying "hold on, give me a minute." He'd learned to be a little bit more patient with the addition. But the best that you'd gotten him to reciprocate is with an insistent, set of tugs on your thread that easily let you know that he's impatient and teetering on the edge of his self-restraint while he waits for you to come back.  He's getting better though. Sort of. 

◈ It's already been stated, Mammon is awfully possessive over you. Most likely something to do with being the incarnation of Greed, but Mammon doesn't share. The very idea of it will have his mood declining; electricity sparking around his body, cracking and snapping across the atmosphere in flashes of burning neon. He'll get scathing and mocking with anyone who he feels is a threat to your relationship, regardless of gender. If he gets the impression that there's even the possibility of them moving your attention from him and onto them, then they're already on the fast track to his blacklist. At best he may just insult and belittle them. That's the absolute best-case scenario. Mammon's made plenty of bodies disappear in his lifetime and he has absolutely no problems with adding another one to that list. 

◈ He's very touchy. He's always in contact with you in some way, at all times, which circles back to the webbing and how he's keen on holding you against his body. It translates to when he's speaking to you as well. Such as nudging your chin with his fingertips to direct you attention onto him; cupping your face with a pair of his hands; pulling you towards him by your waist and arms; lifting you up to move or sit you onto chairs or places that are more convenient for him. It kind of goes hand in hand with how he uses his height to intimidate other demons. Nine times out of ten, he's one of the tallest, if not the tallest person in the room, and so his size is one of his go to means to frighten others, and crowding past their personal boundaries is just another way to force his presence over them. He doesn't do it to scare you, but it's become such an instinctual thing for him that he doesn't even second guess it. It's fully in his nature to do it. It runs along that vein of his greed; the entitlement he feels to other demon's personal space. 

◈ He knows how his presence affects you. How that magnetic thrum that always seems to be pulsing around him like a soft electrical current, prickling at your skin always sends a shiver down your spine. He's aware of how much you like his scent, too. Those warm notes like leather, full with that particular type of musk that wafts from dollar bills, buttery and soft like linen. But he knows that it's his voice in particular that's your favorite. That you especially love the accented lilt that cradles each and every word that comes out of his mouth. It's a particular weakness in your armor that he exploits shamelessly. He knows that all he has to do is dip his voice down into that low coo, all soft with a subtle rumble and you're as good as his. It was a vulnerability that you had tried to hide in the beginning of your relationship, but Mammon being Mammon had noticed your fondness for his voice pretty early on. Mostly because you were absolutely horrid at hiding your affection for his accent. You'd have to physically force yourself from practically melting underneath the sound of that pleasant yet scratchy cadence, pulling your focus onto literally anything else to try and keep from turning into a pile of mush. . . or bursting into laughter. The way that he breaks into a loud string of swears and casual insults never fails to amuse you. Particularly the way that he stresses the word "fuck" so aggressively. Especially the "u" vowel until it almost sounds close to an "a" pronunciation; you have an awful soft spot for it. 

◈ He uses his voice and his eyes to get out of everything. He can be extremely expressive, and if he's done something to anger or irritate you, he will try and use his big eyes to weasel his way back into your good graces. Believe it or not, he's very good at pulling the wounded puppy dog look when he wants to, but you're proud to say that you have gotten better at resisting the adorably pathetic faces he's able to make. Much to his chagrin. He absolutely hates it when you give him the silent treatment, and you try to use it is a kind of last resort. You'd much rather try to have a mature conversation with Mammon and sort out whatever is causing a rift or disagreement between the both of you. But sometimes when it comes to dating someone as egotistical as him, juvenile methods are the only tactic that prove to get through to him. He practically goes through the five stages of grief whenever you ignore him. 

The first being denial: He'll scoff when he realizes that you aren't speaking to him. Almost more amused than he is annoyed. "Are you really going quiet on me? Psshh, whatever. You'll be back to talkin' my fucking ear off in few minutes anyway. You know you can't ignore me for long." 

Anger: Once it finally sinks in that you aren't going to speak to him, he become visibly agitated. His face will twist up into a combination of a pout and a sneer, and he'll start grumbling to himself, huffing swears and complaints under his breath as you go about your day like he doesn't even exist, before his rambling dips into full blown rants. It gets even worse if you chose to leave the house - especially without telling him. That might just be the ultimate insult. He'll pretend that it doesn't bother him at all. That he hardly notices your absence or the fact that you were able to just leave without so much as a backward glance in his direction. It's fine. He doesn't need you. You're the one who needs him. So, when you don't even so much as send him a text or give him a phone call while you're out and ignoring him it has his mood plummeting down into something burning and suffocating.  

When you come home from being out, either after hanging out with friends or just having a quiet solo night out on the town, he's on you in an instant, crowding into your space with those bright green sparks pulsing around him in a seething magnetic flare. "I don't even have to have you here. You've been gettin' real fuckin' cocky lately, acting like I couldn't find ten other bitches just like you. I could have you replaced in the blink of an eye, and it wouldn't bother me the fucking slightest." 

It's something that should send you running for the hills, or at the very least, get under your skin. But his little tantrums never do. It's just his way of trying to get a rise out of you. To make you just as angry as he is so that you'll break and shout at him; cuss him out to get back at him. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing that. You always just level him with a collected stare instead, with a challenge glinting in your eyes. A wordless, "I dare you to." 

He never does. 

Bargaining: This is when the exasperation settles in, though with his inflated sense of pride it usually takes him a bit to get here. But once he finally does, his first instinct is to try and bribe his way back into your good graces. Mammon is very unused to concept of actually having to work for something. His sense of entitlement is as vast as the Seven Rings combined, and the idea of having to make an effort for anything is such a foreign concept. He's so used to getting his way because of his status alone, so whenever you fail to give into his sway it always leaves him a little bit baffled. He tries to tempt you with gifts and dates, and whenever you refuse the proposals, it leaves him utterly lost and infuriated. 

"C'mon. How's about we go to that restaurant ya like so much? " 

"You know, that movie you wanted to see is playing tonight. I could kick everyone out the entire theater if you want. How's that sound? Just you an' me with no one to bother us." 

"You seriously can't still be ignoring me. This shit's gettin old. Let's just put it behind us, yeah?" 

Depression: There will become a change in his physical demeanor once the defeat settles in. Not enough to tip off anyone who doesn't know him well enough. To the untrained eye he's still his usual self. Still just as cheerful and brazen as ever, with his sarcasm and ego just as unaffected as it always is. But even then, you're always able to notice the tension in his shoulders. How the corners of his sharp grin seem just a bit too tight, like he's forcing it on. Whenever he's out of the eye of the public, the fractures in his jovial facade really crumble. Even when he's trying to keep his composure around you, stubbornly trying to pretend that your silence really hasn't affected him. He gets genuinely mopey like this, and the wounded puppy dog expression pulled at his features is actually real this time. But he'll still deny that the heavy frown on his face isn't because of you; he just doesn't feel like smiling, that's all. The irritated way that he's been snapping at everyone as of late; he just woke in a bad mood for an entirely different reason. He's not upset over you, don't flatter yourself. 

Acceptance: Mammon doesn't come to a point of acceptance, per say. He'll never admit "defeat" or apologize for whatever it is that he's done wrong. You're pretty sure that Mammon would combust into a roaring billow of flames and ash before the words "I'm sorry" ever make it past his lips. And when he does apologize, it's done so subtly and in a physical manner, usually with him scooping you up and clutching you to his chest until all of those fuzzy, warm feelings build up within you and drown you from the inside out until you find yourself instinctively reciprocating. Or he'll try another route, such as making you laugh. He is a performer if nothing else, and he knows your sense of humor very well. He'll try to be subtle about it first, mumbling jokes to himself in a way that comes across as organic, like he's ranting to himself about his day while you happen to be in the same room or within the nearby vicinity; close enough to overhear him. He'll try anything, regardless of what type of humor you have. Dark humor, lighthearted jokes, puns, physical comedy, whatever you're suspectable to, he'll get you to crack eventually. 

It's either that, or eventually you'll be the one to give in first. Only able to ignore Mammon for so long before you sucked into your affections and endearment and then you're the one seeking him out. 

◈ He throws parties. All the time. And every single one of them honors him in some type of fashion. He had two separate celebrations for his birthday, twice in a single year. The dates were entirely made up, neither of them lining up with day that he was actually created, but no one so much as batted an eye. There are exclusive parties thrown after his Clown Pageants and concerts. The price of admission is astronomically high, which kills you inside because he doesn't even pay for these events, he has benefactors do it for him. They pay a pretty penny for these parties too, with Mammon hiring contortionists, and fire breathers, and they're always lavishly decorated. But you can't complain too much about it because your birthdays are always insane. Each year is a different theme, and the furnishings and ornaments alone would take ten lifetimes for you to be able to afford.

◈He has several different costumes that he wears for a variety of occasions. One of his most exuberant outfits has to be the one constructed from gold silk. The material is tapestried and what must be thousands of coins threaded into the fabric that chime and jingle with even the slightest movements. How he manages to move around underneath the weight of all that gold is a mystery. But your favorite costume of his has to be the one fashioned from all of the currency in the human world; various and authentic bills that are layered up on top of each other in a variety of colors. From green to purple and orange. It's as gaudy as it is beautiful, but you mostly like it because it makes him look like a rainbow piñata. He's even had similar outfits made for you, so that you'll match. They aren't as loud or opulent as his are, but that works just fine for you. 

◈ His shame knows no limits. He actually had a fundraiser before, for people to donate to him so that he could become richer than he already is. He had even lamented about it in a video online, sharing with the masses that it had been an aspiration of his ever since he was young. That if each one of them donated a single dollar, that he could reach his dream. Honestly, you could hardly even blame him for it because demons had actually donated. 

◈ If there's a snack that you're saving for later, you might as well as expect it to be gone. Nothing is sacred for Mammon, so if he finds your leftovers or a little treat that you've been saving for yourself in the fridge or in the kitchen cabinets, there's 99% chance it's going to be gone by the time you come back for it. You had learned this the hard way when you had walked into the kitchen one night, eager to finish up on some of your favorite candy after a long, exhausting day. When you crossed the threshold, the sight that greeted you had you freezing still. There was Mammon, standing in at the kitchen counter with a familiar bag clutched in one of his hands, cheeks swollen around a big mouthful. His vision was already locked onto you, but he didn't appear to be worried or guilty that he had been caught in the act. His green eyes swept over you, fully relaxed and unbothered before he tilted his head back to pour the remaining scraps from the bag into his mouth, swallowing it down in a single gulp. 

"What?" He asked dumbly. 

The only response he had gotten was you ripping off one of your shoes and hurtling it at him full force. 

You now know to hide all of your meals and snacks from him. But on the flip side, he gets irritated and upset if you happen to do the same thing to him and eat his junk food. Cue an angry tirade about how you're selfish and don't care about hurting his feelings. He'll glare at you with betrayal and outrage if you eat off of his plate or steal a fry from his meal whenever you go out to eat. If looks could kill, you would have doubled over and died from the searing heat glinting in his eyes a long time ago. Does it stop you from doing it? No.

◈He's a bed hog too. When he sleeps, he spreads all six of his limps out like a starfish, covering up nearly every square inch of space with his body. In the very beginning of your relationship, when everything was still new and a little uncertain, you would curl up at the edge of the bed. And the "very beginning" means the first two days. Your patience was quick to go out of the window. You would try to shove him away from you to make room for yourself, but once Mammon fully passes out, he's virtually dead weight. And he won't budge no matter how much you try and get him to shuffle over. Now you just sleep on top of him instead. Not that you can complain about it much. With the feel of him underneath you, sturdy but soft, surrounded by the scent of him and the subtle chill of his body, it usually has you passed out in a matter of seconds. This has a tendency to backfire because whenever you wake up in the morning, he has each arm securely wrapped around your body with his hands gripped onto your clothes like you're some kind of teddy bear. It's impossible to escape from his grip when he's like this and waking him up is a feat all in its own.  Fizz once suggested waking up the Sin by airhorn, claiming that it worked for him. You had seriously thought about it, but knowing your luck Mammon would probably strangle you in his sleep if you did that. 

Oh, yeah, he snores and drools in his sleep too. He also talks every once in a while, as well. "Talk" is generous. He kind of rants in his sleep. You're privy to a lot of gossip and drama because of this little habit of his. 

◈ He uses you as a kind of stress ball. Especially whenever he's carrying you around. You'll find him squeezing various parts of you throughout the day, such as your cheeks, your ass, your chest, regardless of their size, he'll be palming them at some point. It's mostly absentminded, like it's some kind of involuntary urge that he has, and the more stressed he is, the more he'll do it. But he does it on purpose as well. You can always tell when it is based on that mischievous glint he gets in his eyes. You can't hold it against him all that much though, you do the same thing to him plenty. He always pretends to be annoyed whenever you return the gesture by pinching at the swell of his face or groping his chest, but he leans into the attention. Melting underneath the warmth of your palms like a big house cat. 

◈ He isn't the best at picking up gifts and presents. Mostly because whenever he's out with the intent to pick something up for you, such as for your birthday or a holiday or anniversary, he immediately gets sidetracked with things that he'd like to buy for himself. He usually comes home with both pairs of his arms weighed down by bags and boxes and there's a good chance that less than half of them is even meant for you. He's absolute trash when it comes to finding things that you'd actually like. He'll spend a good five minutes squinting down at a set of shoes wondering if you'll like them (even if you have a similar pair for reference) before he eventually calls it quits and just throws them in the cart anyway. If you don't like it, then you can just get them replaced or swap them out. But he does try in his own way. 

◈ A lot of talk circulates around Hell in regard to the Sin's. Anything and everything are discussed. From their personal lives to the clothes they wear, who they associate with and what they had for dinner. It's all under scrutiny from the eye of the masses. So when it was discovered that the King of Green of all demons was in a relationship, it was under evaluation for weeks. No one would have ever guessed that Mammon would ever be the type to find a lover. You had been called a variety of different terms, from a social climber, a gold digger, a prostitute. They were all wondering how royalty managed to fall for someone like you. For a while it didn't bother you. You expected it honestly, but after hearing the same harsh criticisms and gossip day after day, it starts to weigh heavy. You had vented to Mammon, confessed how you worried that you weren't enough, that all of their talk and judgement was starting to crack around the edges. 

He cupped your face in both of his palms, directing your attention on him with a hold that was surprisingly gentle. It grounded you, centered you enough to pull you through the restless emotions and worry spiraling around your mind. The softness in his gaze was just as shocking, rare enough to leave you speechless. "Don't pay those bastards any mind, " he assured you, sweeping his thumbs across the jut of your cheekbones as he drew you closer to him with the tug of his other arms. "I only take the best. They're a useless band of losers anyway, so they can go fuck themselves. You're better than them." 

It wasn't the most eloquent reassurance you've gotten in your life, but coming from Mammon, it made your body burn with a calming, tender warmth. He was right. You didn't need them or their opinions. They didn't matter. And they never would. Not when you have him. 

[thebluester2020]

Stardew Bachelors x Rude!Farmer Reader Headcanons

Summary: A new farmer has moved into Stardew Valley and...wait, how come they're always seen with a scowl on their face?! And why are they so mean?!

Warning(s): Fluff, Mean! Farmer, Doesn't contain all the bachelors! (I've only included Elliot and Sebastian since I didn't want things to become too long!), Farmer is low-key more of a tsundere to be honest, Slight favoritism to Sebastion at the end, !not proofread!

Note: As much as I love sweet-hearted farmers. I also love my mean, tsundere-esque farmers as well <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

:: Elliot had heard about the rumors a week before you arrived. That the grandchild of the late deceased farmer, who once cared for the old farm a little ways away from town, would be moving in soon. He thought a new face around town would be nice. After all, Elliot was fairly new to the town himself! He thought the two of you could share in your common experience of being new to the environment and possibly build a friendly bond.

At least…until the week you were supposed to arrive rolled around.

The rumors of you being rude. He swore they spread faster than you had actually been here.

First it was from overhearing a conversation between Gus and Lewis on Friday.

The way Lewis described you was like hearing a weary night regale his tale of how he narrowly escaped the fiery breath of a dragon. “They’ve…definitely got an attitude.” Elliot heard Lewis say.

“I’m struggling to find the resemblances. Looks aside, they’re rude! They threatened me the other day when I tried to ask if they could do me a favor!”

Elliot wouldn’t exactly deny that the possibility of you being rude made him nervous. Everyone in town was so nice that having someone mean would be like a black sheep sticking out in the middle of white sheep, you just wouldn’t belong. Yet when he had happened upon you once fateful morning on the beach/

“The hell you lookin’ at Prince Charmin’” You spat in his direction when he stared too long.

His eyes widened. “N-Nothing! Forgive me, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new here, that’s why.”

He cleared his throat. “So I see…” He stood in place a little while longer, observing you as you crouched down to collect items from the beach. Your appearance didn’t match your attitude, he thought. Your appearance was like that of nobility to him, graceful with certain details accentuating personality and your life on the farm.

From slightly muddied knees and a few scraps here and there.

But your tongue was like a freshly sharpened knife.

“The fuck?” You hissed at him again, snapping him out of his trance. “Who the hell you looking at? Got a problem?”

“N-No!” You dropped your bag full of items before you walked right up to him, your mouth nearly curling upwards like an angry feline.

“Yeah? You sure? You’re staring mighty hard for someone you A. Don’t know and B. Is just trying to go about their day! So what’s the problem?!”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry once again, it's just- I think you're really gorgeous to look at. The tales of your fiery temper did nothing to speak of your beauty as well." You paused at the compliment, your cheeks beginning to redden as your temper started to ease down considerably.

Besides the compliments towards the farm and your weapon prowess when you first joined the Adventurer's Guild. You didn't hear too many compliments about yourself, the only thing you'd hear was

"That new farmer is scary aren't they? They're completely unlike their grandfather!"

"Why did her grandfather entrust the farm to them? With their attitude, they'll probably soil the crops just from their glare."

To say it didn't hurt from time to time was an understatement. It wasn't your fault that you had a mean scowl on your face 24/7 and sometimes you had a habit of speaking about how you actually felt about someone before thinking about your words!

So, to hear a compliment? You couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter and your chest begin to warm.

Not that you would let this lonely beach writer who talked like some actor from Medieval Kingdom know that.

"...Thank you." You finally mumbled under your breath.

A smile graced Elliot's features. "You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you turned around to quickly pick up your backpack before walking off. But, not before Elliot could get another line in. "You should visit my cabin sometime! I love visitors!"

Although there was no response, for the next few months afterward, however, he kept strangely receiving duck feathers and ink bottles at his front door every other day...

Sebastion

:: The first time he had even heard the rumors of a new farmer. He was talking to his mother about her day and also alerting her that he would be out for a while riding his motorcycle. His mother had made sure to tell him to "be safe!" and likes before she told him that someone new would be moving into the old farm a little ways from town.

He hadn't thought much of it.

'Just another face in the crowd' he thought while also wondering why someone would even choose to go to this town where the most interesting thing that happened was when a slime got loose in the middle of town a while ago!

Until...the words of how rude and snappy you were began to pop up.

"That new farmer has no manners!"

"They're so mean..." He also heard Lewis say. "All I asked was for them to retrieve a...special item from Marnie's house and they said 'Get it yourself'"! Sebastion didn't see anything wrong with the supposed 'attitude' you were giving people in town, in his mind? He thought it was about time that someone had tried to bring a different energy to the town besides being yet another happy-go-lucky person who wanted to help everyone and anyone!

And even when he bumped into you one midnight evening...a sword in his hand as he wanted to go exploring the mines in order to try and put himself to sleep, his opinion of your supposed attitude remained the same.

Though, as he saw the piles of dead Shadow Brutes around...he did have a mind to be a little more weary of you. No one had told him that you were capable of slaying multiple Shadow Brutes on your own.

"You lost gloomy?" Were your first words to him as you pushed your hair back out of your face, snapping him back to reality.

He glared at you. "I could ask the same of you. Whose out fighting Shadow Brutes at midnight?"

"Me," You responded. "Something that I wouldn't expect you to do seeing how you're as skinny as a twig."

His mouth dropped a little, his annoyance with you growing as well as his interest of you. You were mean, that was no question but...unless his ears were playing tricks on him due to him not interacting with too many other people besides his friends.

He could've sworn there was a little bit of playfulness in your voice.

"I may be skinny but I've been down these mines before." He said, walking past you with a grumble as he started to look around the area for anything valuable.

As you looked Sebastion over, your mouth cracked upward a little more in an amused smile. You had just arrived at the valley, and joining the Adventurer's Guild was a good way to blow off some steam and clear your mind by fighting mindless monsters. You hadn't really thought about talking to any of the residents besides the essential ones such as Pierre, Robin and sometimes Lewis from time to time.

But, you were beginning to change your mind.

"You managed to make it all the way down to level 100 in the mines gloomy, maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me to level 120?"

Sebastion looked back at you with a huff. "You probably wouldn't want a 'twig' coming with you."

"Even twigs can have their usefulness, don't be a wuss."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a wuss."

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Then prove it! Killing those Squid Kids can be a tricky process at times." As you walked passed him, you playfully shoved him as a cocky laugh escaped you. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even upgrade from a twig to a branch."

He could've ignored you, he wanted to ignore you but...as you sauntered away cockily, climbing down one of the ladders into the next level. He couldn't deny that you were interesting despite your need to tease him despite the two of you just meeting, you may have had an annoyingly high urge to tease but...strangely enough?

He liked it.

[fatcatlittlebox]

I feel compelled to write another analyses about season 1 haladriel, specifically as it concerns Galadriel and Sauron/Halbrand and armor. The debate has come up again, because fans have found resurfaced videos of Lindsey Weber hinting that Galadriel's armor was "a gift." It also made it into articles about TROP. This was in July 2022. Why is this signficant? It was back when TROP was full throttle Haladriel so the throughlines were even more apparent and intentional.

So the symbolism of armor appears from the very first episode. It occurs when Galadriel is on the ship bound for the Undying Lands. You see her wearing ceremonial armor. It is nondescript, uniform. There is nothing to signify her rank or her house. She does not stand out as an individual and it is definitely not fitted to her form. She looks uncomfortable and hindered. It is not meant for her. She feels it. The imagery is stunning because the implication is that they’re trying to get her to conform. She's fitting their mold. But, ever the rebel, Galadriel has kept her dagger at her side. What's even further interesting is when they remove it.

They remove her gorget, the neck guard. The action is focused and it looks like a collar being removed. Then Galadriel breathes. Does that remind you of anyone? This is a call-forward to this moment.

This scene gives a gorgeous insight to Galadriel's character and emphasizes how much of an outsider she is. Later, in episode 5, she boards another ship. Also, bathed in light but bound for glory and death. Not exile and eternal paradise. But that is who Galadriel is. She is glory and death.

And now she commands attention and respect. She is radiant and regal. Her armor is molded to her, not the other way around. Who provides that armor? Who has given her this gift that signifies her house, her rank and her light? The Maia whom she is looking directly at and the king who beckons her to his side. Sauron. He sees her. He sees her in the way that no one else had before and invites her to embrace her power, completely and unapologetically. She is perfect as she is. That is what this scene is about. That is why who made the armor and who it is from absolutely matters and why the producer has made it a point to bring it up. It's symbolic of their connection and understanding of each other. It is her temptation and her desire. It is a taste for the viewers of the awe-inspiring force they would present if they were ever joined as one.

[tenderleavesbob]

This was inspired by some lovely non-Hylian Wars fics, including warrior cat Warriors and swan Warriors. <3 Please check them out if you haven't already!

Princess Zelda introduced the new arrival as "Link." While Twilight had expected to meet a Link in this new era to continue their chain, he had expected someone less... fluffy.

Link stared back at the chain from his spot at Princess Zelda's feet. He was beautiful, Twilight admitted. He was happy to admit that the new Link was probably the most beautiful Link of the chain with a gorgeous white coat and a regal bearing. His tail was also so fluffy that Twilight felt his thoughts stuttering.

The new Link was a cat, and Twilight was dying to scoop him up and cuddle him. Unfortunately, the new Link with his furry little scowl, adorable cat-sized armor and blue scarf, and deliberately flexed claws looked like he would claw Twilight if he tried. Twilight still really wanted to try.

The new Link was also staring intently at Twilight. There were few things as intense as a cat staring unblinking at someone.

"I think he likes you," Princess Zelda said. She smiled at Twilight and clasped her hands in front of her. "He --"

Link stood up and stretched, and Twilight bit his tongue before he could coo about Link's big stretch! Link licked his mouth with his pink tongue and flashed tiny sharp fangs. His tail swished in the air behind him as he walked over to Twilight, rubbing against him once before trotting toward a door behind the throne. He paused and looked pointedly back at Twilight, tail flicking.

"He really likes you," Princess Zelda finished. "I think he wants to show you something."

"He seems very intelligent for a cat," Legend said. He sounded suspicious. He always sounded suspicious.

"He's quite intelligent," Princess Zelda agreed. "He might be in an... unusual form for a chosen of the Goddesses, but --"

Link had continued to walk away. Twilight hastily and clumsily bowed and excused himself to follow the cat. Link held his long, fluffy tail in the air as he walked in a dainty question mark behind him. All Twilight desired was to pet it and see if it was as soft as it looked.

The cat eventually stopped in a dark room. It had a single window which overlooked the stable. Link sat in the middle of the room and stared at Twilight, tail still twitching.

It was just the two of them. Twilight broke. He closed the door behind them and touched his crystal. The cat didn't flinch as Twilight transformed into his wolf form. Immediately, he crouched to the ground, his own tail wagging wildly behind him. "Hello," he greeted.

Link stood and offered a small, feline bow. "Hello. When you were introduced as the Hero of Twilight, I hoped you still had the ability to transform."

Twilight's tail slowly stilled. He sat down. "You... knew I could transform?"

"Yes. There are tales of the heroes of old, and Cia had a temple dedicated to those who held the spirit of the hero." Link's left ear twitched, and Link groomed it with one paw. Now that Twilight could see him better, he saw faint, old scars marring that ear. "One statue was of a wolf with strange markings."

This conversation wasn't going as Twilight expected, but cats had always proved strangely wise and clever when Twilight spoke to them in this form. "That sounds creepy. Who was Cia?"

"An insane sorceress." Link cocked his head and lowered his paw again. "One who trapped me in this form years ago when I refused to join her."

Twilight stilled. His ears pressed against his head. "Trapped in... Are you a Hylian?"

"I was years ago," Link said. "Before the war began, when I left my home to come to Castle Town. I met Cia on the way and she grew angry when I scorned her advances." Link's tail twitched behind him. "I've been trapped in this form ever since. I hoped the Master Sword would be able to free me, but no."

A whine rose in Twilight's throat. "Shit."

"Shit," Link agreed. "And since I've found at least one person who could understand me at last... I would like a saucer of cream, please."

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Move, baby

Gif credits

Pairing/Au: Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Ellaria Sand

Words count: 5768

Rating: +18, MINORS PLEASE DON’T INTERACT.

Warnings: threesome, reader is a sex worker, she is female and has hair and breasts and vagina but apart from that no other description is given, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT UP IRL, FOLKS), pet names (mostly honey), basically p*rn with very little plot lol

Notes: No beta reader, mostly written at night on my phone (I really need to stop doing this, GOD) and English is not my first language so excuse me for any mistake, Oberyn and Ellaria have always been one of my biggest fantasies, so I decided to write something about them. I'm a bi person, I want both, this is very personal to me and it's my first attempt at writing a threesome so please be kind. Title inspired by “Movement” by Hozier.

I really hope you’ll like it ❤️

I also just want to say thank you all for giving so much love to my last story, I’m so grateful and my heart is full of love for each one of you!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

When you move

I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move

Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose

Move me, baby

Oberyn and Ellaria are lying on the bed when you enter the room. You are intimidated, even though you have been doing this for years and have met many powerful people before. They have been here for a few days now and seeing them through the corridors of the brothel you couldn’t help but notice how majestic and beautiful they were. Oberyn is pervaded by a regal aura, he is like a feline who walks with a soft, elegant step and you immediately found him incredibly sensual.

His golden robe adorned with suns studding, the symbol of Dorne, almost entirely hides the splendor of his tanned skin, but leave his chest partially exposed and a large medallion accentuate the harmonious shape of his thick and incredibly attractive neck.

The fabric hug his torso and fall wider over his legs, framing his perfect figure. A large brown leather belt emphasize his narrow waist.

Rumors say that he is a formidable warrior with a spear and you can actually sense his physical prowess even under his clothes.

His face makes him look like a God, short black hair, high forehead and thick eyebrows, dark and piercing eyes, strong aquiline nose, voluptuous lips and sculpted jaw, covered by a strip of beard.

The signs that line his face give him authority and the appearance of a man who lives life to the full.

Ellaria is equally magnetic, some other brothel girl said to you that she comes from humble beginnings but she looks every bit like a queen who could have anyone under her feet.

A cascade of gorgeous black curls frame her face and falls over her bare shoulders, she has high, sculpted cheekbones and sensual lips, eyes like a dark night, deep and mysterious but shining like stars.

She wears a beautiful orange tunic that slides over her hips leaving little to the imagination, a wide neckline barely cover her décolleté and her tits are embraced by a gold bra.

She looked at you as you passed by her, and her inquisitive and teased gaze didn't escape you. You felt flattered, you never thought that a person like her could look at someone like you.

You saw her whisper something in Oberyn's ear and saw him nod with conviction, before putting his arm around her waist with a mischievous smile.

They walked away without speaking to you while you remained breathless for a few seconds as you watched them disappear together into one of the rooms.

You have experience, you never have this kind of reaction, even in the presence of the king who also frequents this brothel very often.

Most of the time you absolutely don't care about anything other than money you get at the end of the day but that feeling of being noticed by someone you actually like stayed with you and you spent the night torturing your clit because of them.

Today the brothel owner told you that Ellaria and Oberyn specifically asked for you. They previously require at least one man and a couple of women or more which perhaps would have helped you handle the situation better and be calmer. It wouldn't have all depended on you, you could have blended in with others, made yourself less noticed. Although when it comes to sex, it's impossible not to notice you.

You don't think so arrogantly, it's just that you do it every day, several times a day and you're good at it.

So damn good that some customers have fallen in love with you and became obsessed, forcing the brothel owner to kick them out and tell them not to show up again, so good that they often leave you extra gold coins before leaving the room.

You're an expert, but today you feel like it's the first time you've done it.

Your hand shake as you open the door, maybe they could have been wrong, it wasn't you they wanted.

You need to be detached in this job. You can't let your feelings influence you, at the beginning it often happened to you to be overwhelmed but now you've learned to leave the most vulnerable part of yourself outside the door.

There is no future for people like you in King's Landing other than doing menial work, this is the best paying job there is. It's certainly risky because you never know what can happen to you and often powerful men are also cruelly sadistic, you've found yourself in very scary situations at least a couple of times, fortunately much less than other girls who work here.

You saw with your own eyes the swollen faces, you heard the screams, you heard the cries. You've experienced bruises on your skin and not the kind you’ve been turned on by.

Your luck has been that the owner of this brothel cares about keeping you all safe, he is humane enough not to treat you like cannon fodder and let them do whatever they want with you.

He always says that it’s because he need to maintain his brothel the best one in King’s Landing but you know that there is a fund of goodness in him, after all you are pretty sure that he cares at least a little about all of you. You can see it from how he treats you, he never lacks clean clothes, decent meals, cleanliness and decorum of rooms and a maester to cure any ailment that may occur with this way of life. And he pays well, better than in any other brothel in the city, so you've always made sure to hold on to this job.

“We were waiting for you,” Oberyn says, sitting up in bed, his back leaning against the large red velvet cushions resting on the inlaid wooden headboard.

You hold your breath as you shyly step forward.

Ellaria is lying on her side next to her lover, her head resting on her right hand, while her other hand lies limply on her exposed side.

“Come closer, baby” she says “we want to look at you”

You take another step, exposing yourself to the dim light of the candles scattered around the room.

Ellaria's eyes sparkle, she glances knowingly at Oberyn and then back at you "It's really you, the one who looked at me in the hallway"

You feel her gaze wander over your body, you keep your eyes lowered to look at your bare feet on the wooden floor.

It feels like you're being seen for the first time in a long time, and you tremble slightly.

You are not afraid but you are in awe, fully aware of your exposed skin covered only by a light fabric draped over your hips and your torso, covering your breasts and pussy, leaving your shoulders and arms, your cleavage, your legs exposed.

“Are you ashamed?” Oberyn says “You don't need to”

Ellaria elegantly gets up from the bed and approaches you. She stops in front of you and places a finger under your chin “Look at me” she whispers “look into my eyes”

You do as you're told, her hand encircle your jaw, sweet and delicate like a caress.

She’s smiling at you “we've been thinking about you for days, you know? Since we've been in this crap city we haven't had many opportunities to relax, not as much as we'd like anyway. But today, we intend to do nothing else. And we hope you'll join us” It sounds like an invitation, one of the most tempting you've received in years. There is no obligation in her voice, there is kindness. And desire. The realization hits you in that moment, they weren't wrong at all, they want you at least as much as you want them.

Your gaze is fixed in Ellaria's reassuring eyes and you feel hypnotized by her.

“Do you want to stay with us?” she asks you.

You nod.

"Say it. Tell me you want us"

“Yes” you whisper

“Louder, babe, Prince Oberyn can’t hear you”

“Yes” you say, more convinced “I want to be here”

Ellaria's smile spreads softly across her face “Good. We’re glad to hear that, honey”

She moves her hand to your neck, stroking it, her fingertips like a breath on your skin, stopping at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone.

Oberyn is still sitting on the bed, Ellaria moves to your side, without taking her hand off your shoulder “what do you say, my love, is it time we got rid of this peplum?”

“Whatever my sweet paramore desires must be done”

She looks at him with so much love that for a moment you almost feel like you're not worthy of observing such an intimate moment between two people.

Then Ellaria returns to focusing on you, as if you were a gift that was delivered especially for her, making you feel part of the scene again.

She lowers the hem of your dress, letting it slide across your skin, revealing your breasts and then your tummy and letting it fall from your hips. It collapses at your feet like a white cloud.

She takes your hand and makes you take a step forward, letting you out of your dress.

You're naked.

And two of the most fascinating people you've ever seen are looking at you. They're looking at you.

A large number of your clients are impatient, rushed, they just want to satisfy themselves and leave.

Ellaria and Oberyn are calm and relaxed, and they seem in no hurry to send you away.

She admires you, you feel her gaze contemplating you and you fervently hope that she likes what she sees.

You truly want this woman to like you.

“She is beautiful” Oberyn says “my love, you really have impeccable taste”

Ellaria lets out a little laugh "it's no coincidence that you are my other half”

her eyes are languidly on him and then back at you.

She reaches down to caress your arm, your side, her fingers tracing the contours of your body so carefully.

You can literally feel the tension building in the room, pervading it entirely.

“She really is gorgeous”

Her hand travels up your stomach, barely touching you, while she continues to look straight into your eyes and reaches one of your breasts.

She cups it and weighs it for a moment "you have beautiful breasts" she whispers and then takes your nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinches it, pulling it slightly.

A low moan escapes your lips.

You remain still, many have done it before but her touch is different, more attentive and graceful, it send you shivers down your spine.

She’s treating you like something precious, taking the time to tickle your body, looking at you like you're the only person in the room, the anticipation makes it all more exciting.

She does the same to the other nipple and then gets closer, she's so close that you can feel her scent of honey and flowers filling your nostrils.

She kisses you, her lips are luscious and velvety, she tastes like sweet grape, ambrosial and intoxicating.

She pulls away from you and runs a finger over your bottom lip and gently forces your mouth open, then kisses you again. You feel her tongue make its way, meet yours and caress your palate. She licks greedily inside your mouth, her hands squeeze your hips and caress them, her body adheres perfectly to yours, making you whimper and rock your hips to try to get more friction burying one of your hand in her hair, your fingers intertwined with her raven curls.

“Don’t be impatient, baby”

You try to calm down but when you look away from her you see Oberyn on the bed, in his golden robe, staring at you.

His eyes got even darker and are fixed on you, he is clearly turned on by what Ellaria is doing and that makes you even more needy.

“Eyes on me, babe” Ellaria gets your attention again “sit on the bed”

She turns you around and stands in front of you, making you walk backwards as she pushes you gently holding your hips.

The backs of your knees touch the bed and you sit obediently.

Ellaria caresses your cheek “spread your legs” she orders and you do.

She kneels in front of you, you already feel your skin getting hot.

Her hand runs along your inner thigh, her fingertips like feathers on your skin.

“You’re so good. Already glistening for us” she says quietly, eyes fixed on your wetness and you expect for her fingers to rise for reaching your folds but she doesn’t. She gets up instead and take your face in her hands again and gives you another kiss that leaves you breathless. It’s more urgent and sloppy than before and your mind goes blind.

You desperately want this woman to make you cry and beg for more.

Oberyn approaches you from behind while his lover deepens the kiss and put his hands on your shoulders, stroking, you whimper at his touch, his big strong hands expertly roaming on your skin. He lowers them to touch your tits, squeezing and caressing and then his lips are on your neck sucking, biting, licking your soft skin under your ear.

Ellaria has stopped kissing you and contemplates you melting under her man's touch, she has a pleased smile.

She then makes you lying on the bed and undress.

Her dress falls to the ground leaving her naked.

She looks like a work of art.

Her skin is smooth like silk and shines in the candlelight, her tits are perfectly round shaped, high and firm, her turgid nipples stand in the center of a dark rose areola, your eyes wander on her flat tummy and her flourishing hips and thighs, she has beautifully shaped legs, your mouth is watering at the vision.

She climbs up over your body while Oberyn is now on your side sitting on his heels, watching the two of you kissing again.

You whine in her mouth feeling her warm tongue dancing with yours.

Ellaria then whispers in your ear “Raise your arms for me, baby and stand still. Let me take care of you”

You do immediately, so eager to be pleasured by this stunning creature that now lay on top of you.

Her weight is deliciously crushing you.

She kisses your neck and cleavage and lowers herself on you leaving a trail of wet kisses on your skin.

She takes one of your nipples in her mouth sucking on it, making your entire body vibrate. Her tongue is swirling on it, licking all over your areola and then on your bud sucking again avidly.

You cry when she lowers one of her hand between your thighs, teasing your folds with just her fingertips.

She watches you with a languid smile “yeah, you like that, don’t you? Me sucking on your beautiful tits?”

And you nod, head empty, totally intoxicated by her.

You want more, more, more.

She’s on your tits again, mercilessly sucking, using her teeth to gently stiffen your nipples, humming low to your skin.

She dips her fingers into your glistening pussy, running them up and down, completely wetting them.

She put her index finger into her mouth licking it clean.

“Mmm you taste so good” and this vision only would be enough to send you over the edge, she is incredibly elegant even now, in a way that exudes pure sensuality.

She keeps sucking on your tits while teasing your pussy, until you find yourself begging “please, please fuck me”

She stop and look at you with a malicious smile “you want to be fucked by my fingers? You want that, honey?”

“Please, do. Please.”

“You’re so good for us. You should do me a favor, look at my handsome lover while I work my fingers into you, would you do that for me?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you -“ your voice cracks in the attempt ‘cause she force your entrance with two of her fingers without waiting for you to reply “AH. whatever you want… my queen” you say breathily.

She’s deep into you.

“Well, technically I’m no queen but you can call me one if you want” she laugh heartily. “Look at my love, now”

You turn your face and next to you is a naked Oberyn. You don't know when he took off his robe, you heard movements around you but you were totally absorbed in Ellaria at that moment.

It never happens that you are not aware of what is happening in a room, you must always be vigilant to avoid dangerous situations when there is more than one person with you, you never let yourself be caught off guard.

He waited silently, he certainly enjoyed the sight of you two.

You can clearly see it in his hard, swollen cock in front of you.

He's jerking off slowly, a couple more strokes and then he finally speaks "Do you want to take it in your mouth, sweetie?"

You look at him for a second, filling your eyes with his beauty, while Ellaria continues to move in and out of you with her fingers and working on your nipples with her tongue.

You smile, pleased by his hungry eyes.

“Yes” you murmur “Yes, please”

He brings the tip close to your mouth and you instinctively stick out your tongue to lick it. It's already wet with precome, it's salty and musky and you wail at this, so eager to have it all into your mouth.

He enter your lips slowly, he’s bigger than most men you’ve met and you’ve met a lot of men.

“Yes, just like that, honey”

You take as much as you can of him through your lips, down your throat, filling your mouth with his hardened cock and mewl at his thick veins tickling your tongue.

You cup his balls with your hand, massaging them.

“Oh. You seemed shy before but you’re a little mischief, aren’t you?”

You pull out and a little laugh escape your lips “that’s exactly what I am” and you look at him “never underestimate a quite girl”

You’re challenging him, he knows you do things like that for a living so he shouldn’t expect you to be so innocent and naive.

You’re not.

“I knew it, honey, that’s why we wanted you. I know a little mischievous girl when I see her”

You stifle one more laugh and take his cock in your hand, licking his already sticky tip, swirling your tongue on his frenulum, then moving your tongue flat along his length, down to the base and back up again.

You fill your mouth again, taking him so deep that the head of his cock is now scraping at your throat.

You hold it still for a moment to get used to its size and the you begin to suck.

Ellaria is still circling your clit with her thumb while her index and middle fingers slowly pumps in and out of you.

You suck greedily on Oberyn cock and pride raise in your chest at his praises “you’re doing so good, babe, so good for me, keep going”

For the first time in years, you are a third person enjoying sex with others and not only a whore at their commands.

You're almost at your peak and rock your hips into Ellaria's hand, seeking more and more friction.

“Come on baby, flood my hand with your cum”

Your body shakes and you feel a heat rise from your core and invade you as you release your orgasm on Ellaria's hand.

She’s looking at you eagerly, you still have Oberyn cock in your mouth, you hold onto the sheets with your hand to maintain the position while you don't stop taking his cock.

“You have the most exquisite nipples I’ve ever seen, and they taste so sweet, god, I’m obsessed” she says, stroking your hair, making you feel tenderly spoiled.

Oberyn explode in your mouth a few moments later groaning loudly, you swallow everything you can and smile at him while a little ripple of cum runs down your chin.

“Such a good babe” Ellaria strokes your cheek and lick the cum that is making its way onto your neck.

The room is quiet for a while filled only with your sighs.

“What do you want now, love?”

She says to Oberyn that is now lying on the bed right next to you with a hand splayed over your tummy.

“I was thinking…what if you sit on her face while I eat her pussy?”

“Mmmm you always have the best ideas, my prince”

You're lying between them, they sit up for a kiss and you see their mouths come together and their tongues meet passionately right above you, you quietly enjoy the show.

Oberyn climbs on top of you, starting to kiss you and you immediately realize how different his touch and kisses are from Ellaria's, he is more urgent, less delicate than her, but no less exciting. His hands are bigger, his fingers longer and as he caresses and teases your nipples and kisses you you wonder what it would be like to have them inside you.

His tongue is voracious inside your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his kissing overall more demanding and authoritative but still kind.

Oberyn certainly knows how to let the love of his life take center stage but he also knows exactly how to take it back.

He wastes no time tasting your nipples after all of Ellaria's glorification, running his tongue flat over one of them and grunting in approval and then sucking like he’s starving.

“Fuck, they really are delicious, you’re so right, my love”

Ellaria smiles as she settles in to straddle you, her pussy is an inch from your mouth, you can smell it and you pant in anticipation.

“Lick me, dear, lick me deeply and fuck me with your tongue”

and she lowers herself into your face, your nose colliding with her clit making her gasp, your tongue is flat on her folds tracing them thoroughly, you taste her spicy savory flavor that instantly drives you wild.

You lick right in the middle, her folds caressing your tongue at the sides while you caress her center, alternating longer laps with small ones like a kitten, just the tip of your tongue on her clit.

And then you take it into your mouth, wrapping it with your tongue and then sucking it.

Her pussy clench and she grinds into your face “Yes, oh my gods, you’re fucking great” she mutters, hitting your nose again and again “keep doing that”

You try to focus on her even if you feel Oberyn moving on your body, licking and sucking your skin, probably leaving some light bruises that don't intimidate you anyway, he reaches your mound and continues kissing, attentive and caring. He is rough but also sweet, you can feel his beard scratching you delightfully, he makes space between your legs to settle on his stomach on the bed.

You continue lapping on her clit burying your face in her pussy when you feel Oberyn spread your lips with two fingers and give a long lick to your center and then sink his fingers between your lips, covering them completely in your juices, teasing your entrance while he swirling on your clit.

His fingers are thick, much thicker than Ellaria's, and even just a little force at your opening makes you feel full.

Ellaria is still rocking her hips into your face, squeezing it between her thighs. You stick your tongue right at her entrance, making her moan your name “yeah, baby, just like that, keep pushing your tongue inside me”

You do as she wish, darting your tongue in her hole.

She cries out loud, quivering, calling your name again, pushing her cunt into your face.

You’re almost breathless but you don’t stop, you want her to come all over your mouth and chin and you want to savor every drop of her pleasure.

You feel Oberyn’s fingers deep down into your pussy, curling up and reaching that pretty spot inside of you that always gives you fireworks, while he devours your clit. You can feel his nose deepening through your folds and it feels heavenly.

He’s great.

Really amazingly great.

You push into Ellaria’s trying to keep the same pace with he’s pushing into you and you’re pretty sure you’ve never had anything like that, even if you’re a prostitute and you do it all the time.

Ellaria is riding your face like there’s no tomorrow and Oberyn is eating you out so frantically that you feel a little bit overstimulated but you wouldn’t want to stop for any reason.

“You’re really making my sweetheart a big mess, don’t you?” He looks up at you, grinning as he watches his lover taking every bit of your tongue into her.

There's not even a hint of jealousy in his voice, he seems impressed by you, pleased by the fact that you're making the love of his life enjoy every moment.

“I understand that you are so eager to give her what she wants, it's the same for me. My woman is too precious to leave her unsatisfied, she needs to be worshipped” he says it slowly, sweetly, it reaches your ears muffled but still effective and unmistakable.

His fingers still move inside your cunt, and his tongue is on you again licking your clit rapidly, almost jerking it.

You see stars again, while you keep moving on Ellaria’s folds.

Your entire body is on fire, your legs shaking and your heart pounding in your chest so fast you feel like you’re on the verge of no return.

Ellaria comes a few moments after, whining and holding on to the sheets to maintain balance, releasing her cum all over your lips, on your tongue, in your mouth and you drink on her, all you can, continuing lapping her.

Oberyn is caressing your folds with two fingers, gently, letting you cool down.

When Ellaria moves from your face you try to suffocate a disappointed moan which does not escape Oberyn's ears “Oh, you still want more, honey? Yeah, my woman is addictive, I know” his mouth curve into a smile.

“So are you” you say, pulling you up to sit up in bed to give him a kiss.

His lips taste like you, you linger on his bottom lip sucking it gently to get the more of it.

“You’re such a horny little thing”

“Yes, I am” you whisper on his lips

“Good. We like that”

Ellaria is right next to you, palming the back of your head with her hand, stroking your hair.

“Naughty girl” she winks at you “you’re giving us great pleasure so we allow you to choose what to do now. What would you like, sweetie?”

“I would like..." you stop because you don't want to offend the splendid woman next to you.

“What? Speak, babe, whatever it is it’s fine with us” she smiles at you and Oberyn nods.

“I really want to be fucked…by Oberyn”

Ellaria laughs, a joyful laugh that makes your pussy throb

“Why were you afraid to say it?” she gently pinches one of your lobes, then tracing the outline of your ear with the tip of her finger.

“I didn't want you to feel left out”

“I don’t feel like that at all, honey. I know that you want to be fucked by this handsome prince, no one understands you better than me” her voice is low, tender, like a caress.

“It gives me great pleasure to see him enjoy it, you know? And who tells you I won't participate?”

“Oh. Okay” you feel relieved

“Don’t worry, hun, just take what you need. Haven't done this in a long time, right?”

It's true, you haven't been doing this for long, your job doesn't require you to think about your own needs, you have to dedicate yourself entirely to satisfying others.

Oberyn is between your legs again as Ellaria rests your head on her thighs.

“Spread your legs wider for me, babe”

He comes closer to you and slides his cock over your clit, up and down your folds, you get wet immediately, it slides so smoothly it feels like silk on you.

Ellaria is looking at you sweetly, she’s stroking your hair while your head is perfectly nested on her legs.

“You’re going to feel so good, honey, there’s no better cock than his”

And you actually think she’s right, despite all the other ones you’ve seen since you’re doing this.

He aligns himself with your entrance and you can feel the tip entering you, already stretching your crevice.

He’s careful and goes inch by inch with an incredible calm.

He stops when he’s entirely inside you, it fills you all up and you squirm at the sensation, arching your back to feel it even more.

“God it feels amazing” you moan “move, please”

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Yes. Never been so ready in my life. Give it all to me, please”

Your pussy is dripping all over his cock and he starts thrusting, a grunt escapes his throat as he slides so easily into the deepest point of you.

He’s slow, really agonizingly slow and this makes you feel every single movement, every rolling of his hips, every rhythmic thrust so amplified that your mind starts going numb, completely drunk on him.

His hands hold your hips tightly, his fingers dig into your flesh and will probably leave marks but you don't care a bit.

It's like a dance, he’s dancing with your body, setting a leisurely pace that is giving you the freedom to simply feel center stage for once, like you didn’t even know it was possible anymore for you.

They say that's what he does even while fighting, dancing. It's light, nimble and agile like a panther, so they tell you.

Now he's not fighting, he's following your body and you do the same by moving your hips in turn at the same rhythm.

Ellaria was right, there's no cock like his, because what's going on now is him thinking of you first unlike the majority of men you’ve met.

He’s hitting that right spot inside of you again and again, so naturally that you could say that your cunt is meant to be his.

All is silent except for his grunts and the squelching sound of your fuck, every lewd noise from your pussy as he sink into you makes your head spin.

The candles light up the room enough for you to see his face and you fixate on his every little expression, on the vein on his neck swelling, on his clenched teeth, on his eyes squeezed shut with effort.

Ellaria holds you by the shoulders, you bounce on her legs deliciously.

You look up at her for a moment and she has the most delighted smile you’ve ever seen.

“Keep going, hun, you’re doing so well”

she whisper and you’re unsure if she’s speaking to you or his lover but she sounds so sweet and nicely aroused that you get even more turned on by the situation and you didn’t even thought it was possible.

You entwine your legs behind his back, pushing him further against you, he gasps as he tries to push your orgasm just right.

“Fuck, baby, you’re drenched”

“I know I know ..I’m so close Oberyn, please , don’t stop”

He places his thumb over your clit circling it frantically and doesn’t stop pushing into you until your orgasm washes over you leaving you breathless and worn out.

He pulls out of you coming on your tummy, thick streaks of his cum painting your skin as he moan loudly.

You look at him in ecstasy, every expression on his face captivates you as he fists his cock releasing his pleasure on you.

He falls onto the bed panting hard while you also try to catch your breath.

Ellaria moves from underneath you and puts a pillow under your head, goes back between your thighs and reaches down to lick your pussy clean.

Her tongue laps at you gently, caressing your lips until you calm down.

When she's satisfied, she lies down on the bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you, cradling you.

Oberyn kisses your neck, then stands up and grabs a bowl from the table at the side of the room.

You turn to see what he has and he takes a blueberry, runs it across your bottom lip before feeding you.

And then another one.

And one for Ellaria too.

A prince is feeding you blueberries.

You’ve never felt so spoiled in your entire life.

This has to be one of the best days you will ever have, something you thought you could only fantasize about just happened. There isn't much joy in your life anymore, not since you realized that every day would be the same. Not today.

“We leave tomorrow” Ellaria whispers

“Oh fuck, no” you find yourself saying, hiding your head on her chest, lost in the softness of her tits.

“Don't you want us to leave?” Oberyn tenderly rubs your back.

“No” you whine shyly on Ellaria’s skin.

“You’re so cute, honey” she says, hugging you even tightly.

“We’ll be back, don’t be sad” Oberyn says and he pauses for a moment “Actually, wait, have you ever been to Dorne?”

“I never left King's Landing”

"Come with us. What do you think my love, can she come?”

“Of course, she can, why not. When it comes to pleasure you know I have no sides and she’s the perfect addition to our bond”

“It’s a deal then. You want to come, baby?”

You can believe what’s happening, they are really offering you a different life, far from this cesspool of a city.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s gonna cost you a lot, the owner won’t free me for a little price”

“Babe… I’m a prince. Money is not a problem for me.”

You can feel tears poking through your eyes, you look at him and it seems to you that it is a dream from which you will wake up soon.

“Thank you” he approaches you and you give him a grateful kiss.

“Your new life begins tomorrow”

For the first time in a long time you can't wait for the next day.

[krypticcafe]

How do you feel about CoD boys in a monster au? Whether they’re the monster or their s/o is the monster, I just think it would be neat. I’m partial towards werewolves but honestly I love anything that goes bump in the night. I LOVE the idea of a monster being afraid of hurting their partner but their partner knows that they could never hurt them. If you’re open to monster requests, I have so many ideas. Just… monsters, man

oooo are we spitballing bc I love throwing around ideas!!

I absolutely love monster AUs, one of my faves is @/bluegiragi's and I'm sure you all know that iconic one. I'm totally open to monster/hybrid requests, and a detailed list of what other things I write can be found in the cafe's Customer Service Policy aka rules :]

And monster-related plots? I'm a sucker for that shit, need more of that and monster!reader.

If I were to make a Monster Hybrid AU with my own specific ideas though, hmm...

Powerful and stoic, Price would make a great minotaur (lower half of a bull). Sure, maybe his back isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the strength to send you back to your maker. Every step he takes on base acknowledges his presence, a posture that demands respect from its witnesses. The horns on his head aren't something to mess with either, though it takes him ages to scrape out the dried blood from the cracks and tailor his bucket hats.

On the other hand, the canine hybrid for Soap is oddly charming. Similarly to a werewolf, he would have the senses of one, but as a just hybrid, he's unable to fully transform. Instead, he's equipped with features like ears, tail, fangs, some fur on his arms and legs, and a longer tongue. I can see him being a border collie, the Scottish sheepdog just makes sense. But a kelpie/merfolk would also work with his callsign. Soap, a mischievous water spirit known for "cleaning out" rooms of enemies? A body with slick scales, gills, and a frilled mohawk when in monster form? Yeah, I can definitely see that.

For someone with a Queen's honor, a phoenix feels right for Gaz. Bright and burning wings and tail—a light that feels regal and elegant, yet so youthful and lively at the same time. With him in the sky, you're guaranteed to be safe under his watch. Or maybe a cervitaur with those doe eyes of his, gorgeous as ever. Yet equipped with a kick that's sure to shatter the ribs of those who mock him for being just a faun with a pretty face.

Undeniably, with such a specific callsign, Ghost can't be anything other than a wraith. Maybe mix in a bit of demonic blood, soul-eater tendencies, or even marks of an incubus for a little extra kick. His scars look more like shadowy cracks in his skin, smoke pours from the concerningly realistic skull he wears, he looks more like a reaper than a spirit. Regardless, this man is a shadowy phantom that provokes the fear of gods in whoever he sets his target as.

Roach, sure maybe his energy is fitting of a satyr or something more fitting and urban for our token American, like a roach version of Mothman. Bug wings and scales similar to the structure of an exoskeleton, But Roach came to be for being nearly indestructible, like the bug. In fact, it would be more accurate to call Roach, Roaches, as a bogeyman with a human body that can crumble into a swarm of those insects would explain why gunshots and explosions can hardly stop him.

Like Ghost, we can't deny who Hound is, either. Werewolf. Anything less would be criminal. For fun, mix it in with a bit of hellhound hybrid biology, so that he has to either go as a full hellhound or a human with hellhound features. Eyes that burn like Tartarus and a fanged snarl that even Cerberus would shudder at. Maybe even make him in charge of a hellhound K-9 unit, forced to face the very thing he fears.

As for the Reader? Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm a little fond of shapeshifters. Might need to draw some of these ideas sometime...

Ah well, just some thoughts I had. Any other spitballs you guys have?

[somewhereincairparavel]

How would Jason Grace spoil you? boyfriend hcs list

author's note: ik i have an angsty jason grace prompt in my asks and i swear im working on it! But this idea just popped up on my mind and I've been thinking about it all night yesterday omgg. Let me know if you guys want a Leo/Percy/Frank version of this, I mostly write for Jason since he's my bbg but I might actually do the others this time since the idea is so cute!

I'll start off by saying, Jason is a selfcare supporter bf.

Okay so yk how the Romans in CJ have such high standards? They literally exhibit royal/regal energy, and are super fans of luxury stuff.

Jason despite being influenced by greeks would always be a roman. Whether he likes it or not, there will always be roman blood in him. So he makes these cute/simple ideas for dates/gifts but his execution is just pure sophistication. He's SO simple yet so fancy, and Ik they're contradictions but I promise I'll explain.

like this boy would make sure to run you a nice warm roman bath after you come back from a dangerous/tiresome quest to ease your muscles. Cute and simple right? Wrong. This man would buy all sorts of expensive bath perfumes, bath bombs, fragranted petals, etc to make it extra special for you.

See so this is what I mean when I say his ideas are cute, but executed in a very fancy way.

He LOVES spoiling you with self care products, like sheet masks, lotion, cleansers, hair masks, etc. like he simply does NOT care about the money, as long as his girl is taking care of herself?? That's all that matters tbh

This is mostly because Jason, as a kid soldier, never had any time for himself, the closest thing he's ever done to "selfcare" is probably take long baths + trim his hair lol

jason was blessed with his mother's ethereal actress beauty okay. So selfcare or no self care would have zero effect on him physically bc bro would still look majestic.

ANYWAYS he feels like his inner child just kinda heals when he sees you prioritising yourself and he admires it sm :((

would be ecstatic if you rope him into self care. He would be sceptical at first but then as you're applying a face mask on him he'd be like "wait this is actually so relaxing what" and you love the way his face muscles soften at that. Like he really deserves a break and some relaxation, you'd often trick him into using your skincare products intentionally bc he deserves self care.

once he felt so soothed with the lemon facemask he was wearing that he fell asleep on your shoulder and was all zzz 🥺

and would make sure to restock all your products if they run out.

he feels that the self-care has more of a mental and emotional effect on him rather than physical

Which is what matters to him

honestly?? He supports you if you want to wear makeup. Like he'd think you look gorgeous either way but if you like wearing lipgloss? So be it. You get any lipgloss you want he's paying. He just LOVES that you love yourself too :( and would do anything to make you feel comfortable.

also

Food.

This man loves investing on food. Again, it's bc he never even had the time to properly eat as a legionnaire :(

So he'd love to take you out to places and just munch on tasty food and talk. New Rome has bomb food okay. Bro just never got to eat them.

Lmao he's like everyone's grandma when it comes to food. "Have you eaten? You HAVE to eat!! I'll get you food! Go back to your room!"

would spoonfeed you soup if you're sick bc nuh uh you ain't going without eating hun 😤

hes the worried anxious mother hen bf okay fight me.

Food + selfcare = Jason Grace's love language

[quitealotofsodapop]

Macaque, making his grand entrance wearing one of his best outfits just to flex: Now, what is all this rackets!?

The group turns to see a drop-dead gorgeous goth monkey with shouldering eyes, Wukong can feel his face heating up as he realizes that's his shirt. Luzgen realizes what his brother-in-law is doing and starts to grin. Baije is currently having a huge gay existential crisis because while he may be straight, he also has eyes!

Luzhen: Nothing of note, dear brother-in-law! Wukong's companions have come for a visit and to ask he return to the journey the Bodhisattva had task him with.

Macaque turns a regal eye over them as all of them except for Wukong, who is still shellshocked at the sight of his mate looking downright divine, have the sudden realization that Wukong didn't just have a brother. He has a husband, one who looks as though he would feed then to the lions at a moment notice: I see... well then I suppose I shall join in this conversation. Considering it involves the fate of my mate and king.

And then Macaque makes sure to kiss Wukong upon the cheek, causing the already blushing mess of a king to go into an overheated state as he stammers in a flustered manner, tail wrapping around Wukong's waist to pull him close.

Prev.

YES XD

Luzhen smiling deviously at Macaque's performance. If its one thing the two agree on, it's their sense of humor.

Wukong blushing and stuttering like a malfunctioning computer at how enchanting his mate is looking right now. This monkey has been in jail for 500 years, his brain is overheating. Only reason he aint doing something unholy rn is cus there's baby monkeys and a monk present.

The Stalwarts are smiling deviously in their own ways - you know they helped Macaque prepare for this introduction.

Each pilgrim has their own reaction.

Zhu Bajie's is the loudest. You can hear his jaw drop and the gears turning in his head as he realises "Thats a guy!?"

Tripitaka is Terrified. One cus attractive people scare him, and Two because Macaque really does look ready to toss the monk into the ocean for making Wukong sad.

Sha Wujing politely covers his eyes and says a cheery "Hello!" He does not wish to look disrespectfully.

Ao Lie doesn't even act surprised (horse or not). Brother Wukong spoke so highly of his mate that the dragon just assumed he'd be as drop-dead gorgeous in person. Lie does however giggle behind his sleeves at Wukong's love-struck expression.

As Macaque's kisses his mate's cheek and wraps his tail around him, Wukong can only reply with a sound akin to steam escape a kettle. And with the near-instinctual wrapping of his own tail around Macaque.

It all sends a very clear message to the Pilgrims that the bodyguard they took for granted has many very good reasons to drop his employment at any time if he so wished.

And that theres someone very willing to cut them all down if they ever take him for granted again.

[hundredandsix]

just a girl ✩ [ellie williams] ✩

[ loser/guitarteacher!ellie x milf!reader ]

✩ wc: 5.5k

✩ summary: Ellie is your son's guitar teacher with no plans of acting on her fierce attraction toward you. After a long day of lessons, she spots your family at a restaurant. She thinks she may be able to escape the situation without you turning her into a blushing, stammering mess, but your son happens to double as her favorite student and the world's youngest wingman. Ellie gets more than she bargained for after you offer her a ride home.

✩ cw: mdni(18+), Ellie is a complete rizzless loser, sub/switch!ellie, switch!reader, fingering (Ellie receiving), oral (Ellie receiving), strap-on usage (Reader receiving)

a/n - here is the prologue and where the idea originated, but you don't have to read it to understand this.

Ellie was on the verge of passing out. And no, it was not because she hadn't eaten in the past ten hours, though that was a likely contributor. It was because you were there, mere feet from her racing heart and sweaty palms.

She thought she could sneak around you. Your back was turned to her, and if she angled her body right, she could make it to the hostess while remaining beyond your line of sight. Your mother was seated in front of you but she barely even recognized Ellie when she picked up Jackson, your sweetheart of a son, from his guitar lessons.

She had almost made it to the hostess and was about to let out a sigh of relief when she heard it. That cheerful, high-pitched voice full of adoration.

"Mom, look it's Miss Ellie!"

She didn't have it in her to be mad at him. He was her favorite student after all. Her clients ranged in age from ten to sixteen, but she made an exception for little Jackson. At eight years old, he had more discipline than her older students and was more musically gifted than many adults.

And it didn't hurt that he was the sweetest child she had ever met. On his sixth lesson, he came prancing into the studio with a new pair of Converse, shouting "Look Miss Ellie we match!" He made sure to regale her with how he had scratched them up to look just like hers.

So when he turned in the booth, face stained from orange soda, she couldn't help but smile back just as brightly. But his words also drew your attention. Your mother gave a polite wave, but you sent her a wink, long eyelashes fluttering.

Your gaze lingered, and Ellie would have sworn that you looked her up and down. All the way from her half-up half-down hair to the Converse Jackson loved so dearly. Your hand shot up in a half wave, fingers waggling in her direction.

It was hard to breathe when you were looking at her this closely. This had never been a problem for her before, but three weeks ago, your schedule changed. Rather than your elderly mother picking up Jackson from his practices, you were now getting him.

As soon as you opened that door to her studio room, she knew you were going to be a problem. She didn't know whether it was the good kind yet.

Ellie didn't know what she was expecting Jackson's mother to look like but it wasn't that. God, you were gorgeous, and it hurt her even more that she would never be able to have you. But she wasn't that shallow. You were incredibly kind, always checking in on her when you made her so nervous that she couldn't speak. You had to have noticed that she blushed at everything you said and couldn't keep still when your eyes were on her.

Ellie was pulled from her thoughts by Jackson's wriggling form. He crawled right over your lap from his spot in the booth. You tried to stop him, but it was no use. He was on a mission.

"Jackie! Get back here," you said as you dashed after him.

"Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie! Come sit with us pleeeeasse," he shouted as he ran right towards her.

He wrapped his tiny arms around her legs, sending her veering to the right, but Ellie was experienced enough with his hugs that she was prepared.

"Hey, little guy. You been practicing the notes I taught you?" Ellie asked with a gentle pat atop his head.

"Yes! I've been—"

"Jackson," you interrupted.

Your son pried himself from her legs, face turned down and an adorable pout on his face.

"You need to go sit back—"

"Mom! Can Miss Ellie sit with us?" he asked again.

You gave her an apologetic glance, but she hoped you could see that she didn't mind. He was causing a bit of a scene with his loudness, but the other guests seemed charmed by him as well.

You were out of breath, and this didn't skip Ellie's notice. She followed your hands placed on your hips to your heaving chest. Her gaze lingered there. She couldn't help it. She thought about what else she could do to make you breathe that heavily.

When she looked up, your eyes were on her. She'd been caught. Her face was like it was on fire, but this was not unusual when she was talking to you. You quirked an eyebrow at her antics, but that was all you allowed her.

"I'm sure Miss Ellie is very busy," you said, and Ellie's heart soured at your words. She didn't think she could handle sitting in such close proximity to you. All that would be left of her by the end of the meal would be a pile of ashes.

"But," you continued, "it's up to her."

Jackson beamed up at her. How could she say no to him?

"Erm—okay. Yeah, I'll sit with you."

You smiled at that. It seemed genuine, but Ellie wasn't sure if you had some ulterior motive here.

"C'mon!" Jackson shouted again, grabbing her hand.

He pulled her into your seat and began pushing your drink and napkins to the other side. You followed them over to the table and laughed at his antics.

"Wow, what am I? Chopped liver?" you said in mock sadness.

That was such a mom thing to say, and that's when Ellie knew she was absolutely fucked because her heart squeezed at your words.

When you took the empty seat next to your mother, Ellie sat next to Jackson. The seat was still warm from your body heat.

Your mother, who had been otherwise silent this entire time, finally spoke up. "Do you have Jackson's bag packed?" she asked you.

"Yes, it's in the car."

Eager to break the tense silence, Ellie turned to him. "Do you get to go on a trip?"

"I get to have a sleepover at grandma's! And see all of my cousins!"

He suddenly turned very tense.

"But don't worry! I will still be there next week! Because you said I get to learn my first chord."

"That's right!"

The waitress came around the corner, a bright smile on her face. Ellie pretended to not notice the way she rolled her eyes at her addition to the table.

You rolled your shoulders and placed your hands neatly on the table, one wrist crossed over the other. Ellie's eyes followed your hands, tracing down to your nails. They were short.

"Sorry about that. We've acquired another person," you said, tapping your nails on the table.

She couldn't pull her eyes away from her hands. They looked so soft. She wondered what they would feel like dragging down her sides, leaving red lines from your nails.

"Ellie," you said, "she's asking what you'd like to drink."

She ripped her eyes from your hands and fumbled for the menu before realizing she didn't have one. She sat up stick-straight and shoved her hands in the pockets of her oversized pants.

"Right, sorry. I'm fine with water. And I'm actually ready to order if you all are. I already know what I want."

The waitress nodded and went around the table taking orders. Ellie leaned over to help Jackson announce what he had circled on the kid's menu.

Ellie felt dizzy again. She really was starving and it didn't help that you were sitting right in front of her, watching her every move.

"So, Ellie," your mother started, "how is your semester going so far?"

She jumped when Jackson poked her in the side with his index finger. He shoved a yellow crayon in her hand and passed his little menu over, pointing to the tic-tac-toe game. He had already placed his in the middle.

"It's going good so far. My classes aren't as hard as last semester. Maybe I'm just getting used to it."

She drew a circle next to Jackson's X with the cheap crayon. You were watching her and the corner of your mouth turned up in amusement.

"She's a real smart girl, y/n. Top of her class," your mother said, tapping you on the shoulder.

You were busy folding your straw wrapper like an accordion, pulling it apart before pushing the folds back together.

"So I've heard. You're an astrophysics major, right?" you asked.

"Yeah, I am."

Your front teeth sank into the plush skin of your bottom lip. This time you had fucked up because there was absolutely no way you should have known that. She had mentioned a bit of it to your mom but never confirmed what her major was to you or her.

It was your turn to be flustered. You crumpled the wrapper in your hands, rolling it into a little ball.

"I think I saw your Instagram the other day. It was in your bio."

You were saved by the waitress coming around the corner, her arms full of plates.

The dinner went smoothly after that. Small talk was exchanged between the three women as Jackson raved about his grilled cheese and side of broccoli.

Ellie had finished her meal, but her stomach felt empty. She was starved, but not for food. She wanted something... more fulfilling.

"We better get going, Jackie," your mother said, guiding you out of the booth so she could leave.

Jackson didn't give Ellie time to stand. Instead, he darted under the table and crawled under her legs. You sighed, hands at your temples at his antics.

Your mom handed you a fifty, which you swiftly handed back to her.

"It's on me this time, Mom! You're not allowed."

She gave you a stern look, but you crossed your arms over your chest, nose in the air. It became apparent where you had inherited your stubbornness.

"I love you," you said. "Now, come give me a hug goodbye, Jackie."

He ran back over to you and jumped in your arms as you smothered him in kisses. Jackson wriggled in your grasp, trying to escape your affection.

"Be good for grandma, okay?" you said, placing one last kiss to his temple.

He nodded, giving in and snuggling into you further.

"His bag is in my car. You should be able to just grab it. It's unlocked."

With a swift nod, your mother was on her way. Jackson trailed loudly behind her. It appeared he had forgotten Ellie was there, but she knew he would be just as excited to see her next Thursday.

Ellie's head snapped back towards you when she felt a gentle pressure at her ankle.

"I'm happy you decided to join us. He just adores you."

Ellie choked on her own spit when she felt your foot move over hers to rest on top of her Converse.

"Um—anytime Ms. y/l/n. I'm not supposed to have favorite students but he really is a special kid."

A lopsided grin decorated your face, and Ellie found it difficult not to mirror you. She didn't know whether to smile, laugh, or maybe just run away.

"Now, Ellie. What have I told you about calling me that. I'm only a few years older than you, you know? Are you calling me old?"

"N—no, I would never! I just thought—"

You cut her off by placing both your hands over her shaking one and pressing it down on the table. She tried to keep still when you ran the tip of your shoe up the side of her calf.

"I'm just teasing you. I think it's sweet how you always try to be so respectful. Just know that you don't have to be."

Ellie's brain was clouded with you. Your scent. Your hands over hers. And yes they were just as soft as she had imagined. Your foot rubbing against hers.

She let out a shaky sigh and gained enough courage to place her other hand on top of yours.

The waitress came back to remove the dirty plates from the table and take your card. Ellie tried to split the check, but you were faster, sending her a wink as you passed your card to the server.

"You are too nice to me. You let me crash your dinner and now you're paying for my food," Ellie mumbled.

She tried to keep eye contact. She really did, but your gaze was so intense that she had to look away.

"Ellie."

She really wished you would stop saying her name because she couldn't fucking focus and—were you getting closer because she could feel your breath fan over her face?

"You don't have to be so nervous."

"I'm not."

You gave her a knowing smile and separated your body from hers to collect your bag and a few of Jackson's toys he had left behind.

"We should get going," you said, standing from the booth.

"Right."

Ellie stood on shaky legs and followed you to the door. You waved to the waitress on your way out, and she smiled back at you. It didn't seem fair that you had that effect on everyone.

She shook her arms out to prepare for her walk home. It wouldn't take long to get to her apartment. That's why she came to this restaurant. It was only about a five-minute walk away.

Your eyes followed her form, looking for her car in the mostly-full parking spaces. When you came up short you asked, "Did you walk? I can give you a ride back to your place."

"Yeah, but it's not far. I should be okay," Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck.

She felt so hot and it wasn't from the weather. Ellie hoped you didn't notice the sheen of sweat that covered her skin from her nervousness.

You rolled your eyes and threw the passenger door of your car open. She tried not to trace her eyes down your legs as you leaned over.

"C'mon, it'll only take a second. It's getting dark out anyway!"

"Well, if you don't mind," Ellie gave in.

"Not at all!"

Ellie eyed your car and then her apartment complex which she could see from the restaurant. You were throwing stuffed animals and action figures from your front seat to the back of the car. When you deemed it satisfactory, you held out your hand to the passenger seat.

"There you go! Sorry, it's kind of a mess. Jackie insists on bringing all of his toys wherever we go."

Ellie stepped in and you shut the door behind her. It was like something from a movie. Except loser college students didn't usually get driven home by incredibly attractive single mothers.

Your scent was so strong in the car that she almost forgot to put her seatbelt on. Well, that was until you pointed it out, reaching over her to grab the belt and buckle it for her.

It was going to be a long drive home.

"There you fucking go, Ellie. So pretty like this," you said, pumping two of your fingers in and out of her dripping cunt.

Ellie cried out at your words and tried to remember how this happened. Her memory became too clouded with you after you arrived at her complex. You parked in the darkened spot at the back of the lot, not visible during the nighttime. At first, she thought she was dreaming because you put your hand on her thigh when you said goodbye.

She could smell your perfume as you leaned in closer, rubbing little circles on her inner thigh with your thumb. Next thing she knew, you were both in the backseat, you straddling her and shoving her jeans and boxers down her legs.

The sound of your fingers was obscene. The only thing louder was her gasps for breath. It had only been a few minutes, but she was so close. Her fingers tangled in your shirt, trying to pull it off, but you batted her hands away for now.

Her wetness was getting all over your leather seats, and she hoped you wouldn't see from the position you were in. You were straddling her, one leg on either side of her spread thighs. It was a little awkward, but your backseat didn't exactly offer much room.

"So wet. Getting all over me," you teased.

To prove your point, you held your fingers up to her face. She whined at the emptiness you left between her legs. Her slick glimmered in the moonlight, and she resisted the urge to shove your fingers in her mouth. If you had parked closer to the street lamps, you would have seen her flush.

To her dismay, you didn't move your hand back. Instead, you placed your thumb over her clit, moving it left and right lightly. It was the ghost of a touch, so light she could barely feel it. She cried out and bucked forward, trying to increase the friction.

"See, you just needed someone to take care of you, huh? Bet you could cum just like this."

Everything felt so tense. Ellie could feel the coil growing tighter and tighter in her lower stomach, the pleasure growing so fierce that she almost wanted to pull away from it. Her own fingers had never made her finish this fast before.

"Yes—I, I'm gonna—"

And she did.

Ellie gasped, hands flying forward to grab your wrist. Your movements faltered momentarily in what she thought was shock, but that didn't stop her from grinding against you.

Her eyes remained trained on your fingers, admiring your pretty hands and how wet they were from her. Her face felt hot at her actions. She didn't want to seem so desperate.

"There you go. Didn't take much, did it?" you said, helping her grind herself down on you.

Ellie groaned and released your wrist with one of her hands to grab your shoulder. She pulled you closer to her and hid her face in your neck as she rode out her high.

She could feel the heat of your neck against her cheek and it felt so comforting that she thought she could stay there forever. Your laugh pulled her out of her daze as you pried her off of you. You pulled away, but not before noisily connecting your lips in a wet kiss.

Ellis pulled your bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down gently. The groan you let out sent another pang of arousal through her. This wasn't enough. She hadn't even got to touch you yet and she wanted all of you.

"Do you wanna go inside?" you asked against her lips.

Ellie really must have been dreaming now. She was so caught by your words that she almost agreed, but then she remembered. Dina, her roommate, was home tonight.

Dina was chill and likely wouldn't have cared, but she wanted to be spared from the onslaught of questions she would receive the next morning. Was it good? Was she good? How did you score her?

You pulled away, taking her silence as something negative.

"Sorry, I don't mean to push. This is probably a bad id—"

"No!" Ellie said, a little too loudly. Her hands came to rest on your shoulders, holding you in place like you were about to run away.

"It's just—my roommate is home."

"Oh, well we can go to my place. If you're okay with that."

Ellie tried to keep her cool. She really did. But she nodded so enthusiastically, it made you laugh again.

I think it's sweet how you always try to be so respectful. Just know that you don't have to be.

Those were the words on Ellie's mind as she was in your bed, cotton sheets tangled beneath her legs and you crying out under her.

It started in the kitchen, both you and Ellie were too hungry for one another to spend the time walking to your bedroom. Ellie took you against the counter, and when your legs were too tired to support yourself, you guided her to the bedroom.

When you presented the strap to her, clear blue and glittery, she was a little worried you wanted to use it on her. God, she wanted it so bad, but she didn't think she could keep it together if she let you. It was so much already, and she was still in a state of shock that this was even happening.

Instead, you handed Ellie the harness, a shy smile decorating your face for the first time that night.

It took her a few tries to buckle it, her fingers fumbling from the nerves. When you reached over to help her, practiced fingers guided it over her thighs smoothly as if you'd done this hundreds of times before.

She tried not to be jealous about that. There really was no need to be. Ellie had no claim on you. You were just her student's tempting, irresistible mother.

But she couldn't help it. She had only just had a taste, but she wanted you to be hers. She was going to prove to you that you'd never need anyone else after her.

She pushed you back onto the bed and attacked you in a kiss so passionate that your teeth knocked together. Her lips moved to your neck, sucking bruises that you'd likely scold her for later. She liked it when you told her off anyways.

"Please. Hurry up," you said breathlessly.

She sat back on her knees to get a better angle, rubbing the head of the strap over your cunt. You were wet enough that she wasn't worried about hurting you, and her earlier ministrations in the kitchen had prepared you.

She circled your entrance, but moved at the last second, rubbing it over your clit in tight, rapid movements. Her other hand moved over your tits, thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipples.

"Thought you liked it when I was nice to you. You don't want me to take my time?" Ellie asked, growing a little cocky at how ready you were for her.

"No, Ellie. I want you to fuck me."

That was all she needed to hear. She entered you in one fluid movement, and your hands flew to her bare back, digging red lines into the soft skin.

She committed every whine, every groan to her memory. If you never let her do this again, at least she'd have that to think about.

She started off slow, not wanting to push you too hard, but you were begging for more within the first thirty seconds.

"Harder. Thought I said I wanted you to fuck me," you whined.

Ellie rolled her eyes at that, and you reached forward to gently slap the side of her face. She felt like she had done something truly wrong and was ready to do whatever you wanted to make up for it.

"Fine," she said, pulling out of you.

You whined at the emptiness, pushing her back to you by her shoulders, but Ellie shrugged you off. In a display of surprising strength, she grabbed your hips roughly and flipped you onto your stomach.

You caught on and rose on your elbows, arching your back to stick your ass out for her. Looking so pretty and ready for her, she couldn't help it. She placed a sharp smack to your ass, and you cried out, arching into her further for what she hoped was more.

Not wanting to waste any time, she lined the strap up again. She was rough with it, not giving you even a second for you to adjust before she was railing into you.

"This what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to fuck you?" she asked breathlessly, giving your ass another smack.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck. So good for me, El.”

Ellie almost paused, but didn’t want to disappoint you. Wasn’t she supposed to say that to you? She tried to ignore the way your words sent her absolutely spiraling, but she swore she could feel you clenching around the fake dick.

She decided to make that her mission. No matter what, she wanted to be good for you. To please you.

She regretted flipping you over because now she couldn't watch your face. But seeing your ass slap against her thighs made her throb just as much. If she ground her hips into yours, she could feel the strap rubbing against her clit.

When you threw your head over your shoulder to look back at her, she decided to store this information for later. Your mouth was hanging open, and you let out a little grunt every time she thrust back into you.

And like the tease you were, you fucking winked at her again. But this time, there was no amount of nervousness that was going to keep Ellie from getting what she wanted.

"Wish you would stop fucking teasing me," she said with a pout forming on her lips.

Ellie was so mean with it. She set a punishing pace, knocking the breath out of you as she pulled out all the way and then slammed back in. Her fingertips dugs little bruises into your thighs.

She removed one of her hands from your hip to press on the small of your back, arching you into the bed. You seemed to like this new angle because you let out a string of curses and arched back into her.

Ellie tried to conceal the way her breathing was growing heavier. Sweat dripped from her brow, and she ignored the way her cunt was absolutely throbbing at the view in front of her. She was going to be good.

She snaked an arm around your leg to stroke her fingers over your clit. Maybe you were more experienced than her, but your hands were no match for her guitarist's fingers.

You cried out as she worked over you, keeping a pace so precise and calculated that Ellie was even a bit impressed with herself.

It wasn't long before your moans turned into whines. You shoved your head into your arms, trying to conceal the loudness. "G—gonna cum. Don't fucking stop. Please," you cried out, slamming your hips back into hers.

Ellie couldn't help herself. Against your wishes, she flipped you back over. She didn't give you time to complain. She barely even pulled out before she was back to her toe-curling pace, supporting herself with one lean arm and using the other to rub over your clit.

"Wanna see your pretty face when I make you cum," she panted, green eyes scanning over your features.

Your eyes clenched shut, mouth open in a silent groan as you came at her words. This time she did feel you clench around the strap because it became much more difficult to keep up her pace. Your cunt pulsed around it, forming a heartbeat she wanted the chance to memorize.

She didn't stop until you pushed her away, the combination of her fingers and the strap just on the side of too much. You didn't even give Ellie the chance to catch her breath before you were yanking the harness off of her, throwing the strap somewhere across the room to be dealt with later.

Ellie yelped as you grabbed her lean thighs, pulling her up your body until her cunt was level with your face. Your expression was enough to tell her she was soaked.

You ran your index finger through her slick, grazing the side of her clit and sending a moan tumbling past her lips.

"You're so pretty," you said, eyes focused on her dripping cunt.

Ellie wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't you pulling her onto her face. She moved her hips up to pull away in embarrassment, but you shoved her back down, groaning into her cunt that she "better sit the fuck down."

Your tongue swirled over her cunt with practiced precision. You knew just when to use the flat of your tongue rather than the pointed tip and how to pull each little groan and whine from her.

She didn't know what to do with her hands, so they hung by her sides in disuse. There wasn't a lot of room to touch you, so she resorted to cupping her own tits, kneading the sensitive flesh as you brought her closer and closer to release.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you could make her cum. She was so close already, and you had only just pulled her over your mouth.

She tried to warn you, she really did. But the pleasure hit her so fast and all at once, that she didn't have a chance to do much but release one of her hands and tangle it in your hair, tugging gently at the roots.

She didn't think she blacked out, but next thing she knew, she was laying on your bed with your hands stroking over her cheeks softly.

"Don't cry, baby. You did so good for me."

She didn't understand what you meant until her own hand reached up to run over her face. Sure enough, there were tear tracks decorating her skin, a sign of the overwhelming pleasure you just gave her.

You let out a gentle giggle, like the sound of wind chimes, and she couldn't help but follow along with you.

"Wasn't crying in a bad way! It's just—"

"I know. It was a lot, but you took it so well."

Ellie turned her head to the side, not wanting you to see her flush at her words. She felt a little overdramatic. To make up for it, she tried to stand up and grab a towel, but her legs were too shaky. She fell right back against the bed.

You laughed again, pulling her limbs to rest under the cozy blanket on your bed. She felt the warmth of your body cuddle into her for a moment.

"You tired?"

"Yeah," she said, eyes closing involuntarily.

"Let me take care of everything. You stay here and rest," you said, placing a gentle kiss on the damp skin of her forehead.

Ellie didn't wake until the next morning. The sounds of childlike laughter and doors slamming made her think she was dreaming at first. She opened her eyes, rubbing the sleep away from the corners.

She probably should have left much earlier, but she hadn't woken up once since she fell asleep. As a chronic insomniac, this was the most well-rested she had felt in a long time. You would have woken her if you really wanted her to leave, right?

She reached her tattooed arm to your side of the bed but was met with nothing but a pile of wrinkled sheets. Ellie shot up from the bed and began to pull her clothes on. They smelled like the night before: sex and your perfume that she couldn't seem to shake.

She took a moment to shake her shoulders out. Maybe you were making breakfast. She cursed herself for not thinking of it first.

But then she heard you shout, "Jackson, you get back here right now!"

A tornado of movement flew across your doorway, and she thanked whoever was up above that he didn't come into your room.

But perhaps she had expressed her gratitude too soon because Jackson must have seen her. She heard him before she saw him, his tiny feet stomping back towards her. He ran backwards into the room and spun around, mouth open in amazement.

"Miss Ellie! How did you get here?"

You appeared behind him, the signs of sleep still in your eyes. You must have just woken up because you were still in a pair of linen pajamas.

"Um, hi, Jackie!" Ellie said, trying to be casual.

Clearly, she was failing because Jackson turned to you, eyes so wide he looked like a cartoon character. His voice lowered, almost a whisper.

"Mom, if I'm not allowed to have sleepovers, how come you are?"

He crossed his arms as he awaited his response. Ellie's gaze fell anywhere but on you. She had no idea how you were going to handle this, but she trusted your judgment.

You placed a motherly hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the room and throwing an apologetic glance her way.

"That was so nice of Grandma to drop you off early, wasn't it? Are you hungry? I wonder if Miss Ellie will like my pancakes as much as you do?"

Jackson ripped your hands off of him and ran over to her, taking her larger hand in his small one. She glanced up to see your retreating form. He pulled her forward, running after you with so much force it almost sent her sprawling on the floor.

"C'mon, Miss Ellie! You're taking too long."

She followed after him and caught a glimpse of you tying an apron around your waist as she entered the kitchen. In what seemed to be your signature move, you winked at her, beckoning her forward with open arms.

Yeah, she could get used to this.

[midnigtartist]

Okay I turned it into a snippet so please enjoy some petty Gale

“And you know, I almost didn’t even recognize him after all these years.” Dotty babbles. Her hand is tucked snuggly into the crook of Gale’s elbow while they walk.

Not the best way to traverse the wilderness, giving the likelihood of goblins or cultists ambushing them, but a worthy indulgence for even a fleeting moment of her hands on him.

Dotty continues, free hand gesturing wildly as she speaks. “Honestly I didn’t put it together until I heard the last name. I mean, Will’s not that uncommon of a name, but Ravengard! He got so dashing and handsome since I last saw him!”

Gale carefully constructs his grimace into a convincingly pleasant smile. “The man certainly has his charms. If you can overlook the more-“ he gestures broadly across his brow “-hellish aspects of his appearance.”

“Gale!” Dotty swats his bicep sharply, fixing him with a pouting, pointed glare “Don’t be rude. His horns look lovely. There so- big! And regal looking. He looks absolutely gorgeous.”

He’d not considered that horn size might be a contributing factor to one’s attractiveness, but he’s also not courted a teifling before. Weave willing its not the predominate factor. That would be rather inconvenient for him.

He holds up his free hand, surrendering to her pointed look. “To each there own. I find them a tad,,, ostentatious for my liking. I find myself inclined towards ones more economic in size. Yours, for example.” He finishes warmly.

“Oh.” Dotty’s hand drifts absently up to her brow, pushing a stray curl behind her horn. She doesn’t look as flattered as he’d hope. In fact, she looks a touch distressed.

“-unless that would be inappropriate to say.” Gale hastens to say. His stomach twists at the perceived faux pa he’s apparently committed. “In which case- I apologize.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind! What’s the point of having them if people aren’t going to look, right?” There’s a quiver of insecurity at the edges of her words that sours the joke a bit.

“My horns never grew in fully.” She dances dexterous fingers over the bunted curve of her short horn. They do have a matte quality to them, like the velvet on a young buck’s antlers, and they don’t split her skin quite as jaggedly as they do on others. “Im a bit jealous of Wyll, to be quite honest.“

“In my experience, the most attractive thing about a person’s appearance is the way they carry it.” Gale says. “And you carry yourself magnificently.”

Dotty blinks doe eyed up at him, once, twice, then a shy smile pulls at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re sweet.” Her voice is once again heavy with warmth and barely contained laughter.

“I know.”

That earns him a proper eye roll, and another thwack across the arm, gentler this time, but still.

[anamenooneowns]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖MEETING POPE

an: this is a moodboard/ficlet and something mashup for pope bc i got a smack of inspiration. you're from deep in the south, raised around nature and moved to the obx.

DNI IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO. THIS BLOCK BUTTON GOES BRAZY

Being from the deep South and moving to the Outerbanks, you weren't too far out of your element. Back home, your family was one of the few that lived comfortably and that didn't change in the OBX, moving into a spacious estate.

What did change somewhat was your interests. A new one being added on: Pope Heyward. Your father had ordered groceries from Heyward to be delivered for a house warming party. You were sitting at the end of your new house's dock, one leg in the water and the other hiked up to your chest, a temporary table for you to write in your journal when you heard a boat coming in.

And one of the prettiest boys you've on the island so far, on it.

"Hi!" you yelled over the motor as he finally docked, staring at you a moment too long before he blinked and pulled the key from the ignition, silencing it.

He wiped his hands on his cargo shorts and cleared his throat. "Uh, hey- I mean, yeah, hi."

Silence.

You raised your eyebrows and looked over your shoulder at your house. "So... you're Mr. Heyward's son, I'm guessin'? Y'voice definitely don't sound like it's imbued with an old spirit who's been 'round 'nd seen it all."

At that, a small huff of laughter escaped through his nose, a smile cracking on his lips to display white and nonuniform teeth. He had a sliver of a gap between the front two. His smile was pretty, too. "Got the first part right... but I think I've seen plenty. Actually, I've probably seen and done too many things I shouldn't have."

He doesn't know why he's telling you this. Maybe it's cause you're fucking gorgeous, or how your aura is calm and tinged with something a bit wild that he can see in your eyes but is somehow also regal and not in that snooty Kook way either, or how sweet your Southern accent is that it's wrapping around his head and through his ears like a symphony.

"Mm, then I guess this island's got more to offer than I thought," you sighed and finally stood up. "Should show me 'round then someday, Heyward's son, need help with those groceries?"

"Oh, no- I can't. My dad would kill me, you're the customer and you're a girl-"

"The hell's it gotta do with what's under my clothes, Heyward's son?" you were poking, wanting to fluster this pretty boy who did get pretty damn flustered.

"I just mean like- I should be doing it. Not that you can't, but you shouldn't have to, y'know? I can definitely tell you could-"

You laughed. It was a full, loud sound that made Pope's face hot. "I'm teasin', relax. Look, there's 'bout eight bags you got. Four and four, even."

And you didn't wait for him either, grabbing two bags in each hand and walking down the dock with them.

It was then that Pope realized something and cupped his hands around his mouth. "My name's Pope, I never got yours!"

Turning, you smiled at him. "I'll give it to you when you decide to show me 'round!" was your response.

Yeah, your interests definitely changed.

an: comments and reblogs are appreciated! thanks for reading!

[cakepoppresent]

24 Screenshots of '24 <3

Heyo,

I was tagged by @enniewritesathing and @euphiesims to share my favourite screenshots from 2024. I will try to make this nice and neat! and in no particular order (I'm going to put most of it under the cut so I don't spam up people's dashboards!)

I also tag @jayveesim @jayplaysims @weirdosalike @citylighten @matchalovertrait @pamsimmer and anyone else who wants to do it!!

Blair and Brayden Date Night. - I took them out on a date after everything with Grayson and Gideon died down. Blair was worried that it was a mistake having her kids all live in San My without their parents and Brayden was trying to calm her down

Xavier and his little crew - I love these little munchkins so much.

Brayden Visiting his son - Grayson spent Sulani alone trying to center himself and get his head on straight again. There isn't anything really special BUT I just liked how it looked. I liked that Grayson's father made sure he was doing okay. He even suggested therapy, Grayson refused but Blair and Brayden still have that therapist on speed dial just in case lol

Grayson walking home alone - I liked this shot a lot because I don't think I made it clear how Grayson has never been alone. Gideon has ALWAYS been by his side (or his siblings) so I thought it would be nice to get this shot of him being alone

Apollo - I just think Apollo is sexy af and you should all think the same thing

Bunny Sam - was playing around with Gshade and I just think she's sexy af. Y'all should think she's sexy too. Thx

Dancing Grayson - Grayson dancing to Nasty by Tinashe 😂 he just looked so cute

Miss. Luna V - my sis doesn't yearn but gets yearned for and she likes the feeling. That's a look thats giving "yeah I know you love me why wouldn't you"

Yearning Loser - Benji is so in love with Malcolm. It's embarrassing for him but he just loved being around him. That's his family

Malcolm and Veronica - Nothing really, I just thought they look good and Malcolm works out a lot autonomously so I wanted to show it off

Veronica and Brayden - Future father and daughter business duo in the making. Veronica just looks so good as a business woman. I can't see her as anything else and her dad in the background supporting like he should

Su and Grayson - What could have been! In another timeline where Gideon doesn't exist they would have had a chance. Unfortunately this is all in Su's mind. Poor baby

The Reeves!!! - the family I've been playing for over a year. They are my everything and I'm so happy I made them! They are so beautiful

Xavier's stank face - I like his stank face because it supports my head cannon that Xavier and Veronica are much more similar in personality. Xavier just knows how to hide it better 😂

Unfriendly Black hotties - Luna up until this point as always been smiling and amicable but I love seeing her mad and looking upset. She looks so good

Hopelessly Devoted To You - They are currently on a break but that doesn't stop Gideon from staring at Grayson like nothing has changed. TBH Gideon thinking about how to get Grayson pregnant

Nothing to say - It's Luna looking regal and gorgeous as always. Daiksue so lucky I'm not giving him a love rival (I fucking should)

The Villareal Twins - I just like them and I don't have enough pics of them together

Rainy Nights - this is probably my favorite animation and I love the ambience and the lighting of this screenie so much. I just love them so much

Can you tell who my favorite couple is? Lol. I dunno this was after Malcom and Luna got into a fight. Malcolm went straight home and flew right into Benji's arms. He won't admit it but he loves being in Benji's arms

Taking a break - I wanna redo this scene because I felt like I didn't actually convey what I needed to convey. But I just love how dependent they are on each other even when going through their relationship woes

Taking care of his lady - Luna tried it and Daisuke wasn't having it. He wasn't gonna leave without setting the record straight with his future wife

My Munchkins - please. They are so cute and I had so much fun playing them! Also Xavier's face is so funny here

There was a challenge for simstwt a supernatural theme. I used Sam and Apollo and played around with lighting. I really liked how it turned out