#he's my lil baby (he's a whole foot taller than me) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachbearies · 4 years

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omg ion know if ur taking. Requests rn but I was wondering just a cute lil imagine bout zion in which the reader and him are dating and it's they're one yr aniversary or sum idk lol but just zion being a cutie and telling how much he loves her and shiii (because we all know that his ass acts all big and bad but he is a 6'4 teddy bear irl) yaa ik that was supper cringey but shehej yee okay byee (ur an amazing writer btw I've read all ur work and may I saY I stan 💖)

Promise: Z.kuwonu

Requested

›› Synopsis: it’s your first anniversary with Zion, around this trademark period it makes you apprehensive but Zion reminds you how much

›› Genre: Fluff

›› Paring: Female Reader x Zion Kuwonu

›› Warnings: Slightly hinted nsfw, lots of cursing (I mean it Zion so…), a little glimpse of toxic behavior.

›› A/N: what?! This is not cringe at all baby! I admire cheesy romantic headcanons/ imagines like this. My likes and drafts are filled with fluffs or angst to fluff🤧. I’m sorry this is a tad bit delinquent And thank you for reading my work that means a lot I’ve been exploring a lot of vocabulary words to scrutinize my writing, this may be a long one I apologize I got too into it.

The marvels of what a year could do. From going through a hurricane of songster roaring at each other, the strikes of austere comments leading up to the thunderstorm of a anguish. Your ex-fiancé cheated on, with considerable women before you found out. The ring on your finger was nothing but a reflector and leverage for him, he wanted to appear a saint to the kingdom, but a devil in the moonlight. Apologizing and buttering you up like a slice of bread, didn’t make you dawdle.

Your lucidity and rectitude were more caliber than staying, so you moved out of your shared apartment a week later, during the rotation of moving haphazardly you’ve incoherent yourself from the boys' realm, nor have your inner circle heard of you. You dissipated from the earth. And if you had to be adequate, you relished it that way, what was anyone overlooking anyways? but you were silently asking for space, you would give your leg for it.

Zion stirring in disgruntle, pushing profanities in between his gritted teeth. Don’t get mistaken he wasn’t mad you were ignoring him, just by the way your handling things on your own, he knew it had to be really fucked up if you couldn’t come to him. The veins crawling up his proffered hands outstretched for the keys. The boys jumping up in fear he may do something reckless, Brandon putting his hand in front of the boys to halt them. “Listen—even if we stop him, say anything to him or follow him, he will remotely do exactly what you think he’s going to do, you know how much he cares about (y/n), all we can do is have faith in him” Brandon confirms, but deep inside that rickety heart of his fear was kicking his ass too. They all discern Zion, once the peak of anger overflows his eyes only opines vermilion.

Zion parked in the lot, not noticing your car ghosting its rightful place. His mind was set on figuring what was wrong with you. Climbing the flight of stairs, he knocks on your door, his foot tapping the pallid base. When the door swung open it was ex-fiance, their eyes met in pique just burning to throw punches and a few sparks of curse words. “What do you want?” Your ex tempts him.

For your sake, Zion never snapped in front of him the way he should’ve. “Not you that’s for sure” commenting on his current attire, which was shirtless and some sweatpants. “Where’s (y/n)?” He queries, a scruffy ‘tsk’ pass through his lips. “Not here, that bitch moved out after she broke up with me”

Zion looked at his watch the time read 9:35 pm. “Cool, all I need is nine minutes of your time” Zion tranquility explains to him. Swinging and docking him in the throat; the girl that was staying with him bolting into the living room finding the source of the thump. She screams for Zion to get off him, after give or take six punches, Zion walks away not giving him or her the slightest sight. “If I catch you or her around y/n, better make sure you have good health care insurance and dental”

The next day he waited outside your classroom leaning his foot up against the wall; few girls noticed him but that wasn’t on his mind. When your silhouette appeared, he excused himself in a rush to catch you. “Pretty rich seeing a smile from a ghost” your heart dropped; the voice you were scared to dump your problems on.

What lie could you conjure? “Hey Zion” you breathe, turning in his direction. “That’s my fault I’m sorry, dealing with classes and moving I lost track of time” which was half correct, but it wasn’t the biggest factor. Zion tilted his head, signature hand in hoodie pocket. Closing your eyes with a heavy sigh, you knew he didn’t believe you nor did he want to push you. “Zion—“ he groped your wrist pulling you to the parking lot, he leaned on his car's hood without saying a drop of words, he wants for you to stream all your worries.

“Well, that’s half the reason. Okay, I didn't mean to go completely ghost, life just wasn't easy for me lately, I didn't want to add more dead weight to your shoulder. Sorry” zion scoffs pushing himself away from the car with no hands. But they followed the path to your jawline. ”burden on my shoulder or not, they're made for you to cry on. Stop going through things on your own alright?, as long as I'm here you don't have to sink”

Ever since you and zion grew close, a year later and he still gazes at you like a diamond. Even after a year, the astonishment gets the better of you. The insecurities start raging in, fighting in a war of love and hate. Your phone was laid upon the cherry wooden table, the vibrations frightening you, the goosebumps crawling up your arms. The name it read was “Love🤍”

“Hello?” You answer still shaken up; Zion lets out a soft scoff that vibrates through your body “you’re still in bed mamas? you should be awake beautiful” rubbing your eyes slightly, the clock flashed the numbers ‘ 2:30 pm’ your groan only makes him smile bigger.

“Goddamn I love you, look how ravishing you are in the morning” Zion's eyes shimmering in adoration. Those eyes always reflected his emotions, deep down you knew Zion loved you wholeheartedly, but the fear of having something good taken from you. That is what kept you hesitant. “No, I don’t stop lying” you stroke his ego.

“Me? Lie? Babygirl, I can’t and won’t lie to you stop playing” Zion said in a low octave, your stomach stirred in feelings “do me a favor baby” “Which is?” You reply, Zion looks over on his nightstand smiling. “Why are you smiling? Are you being mischievous again?”

“Who me? Nah” Zion shrugs off. The ringing of the doorbell distracted you from his spreading grin “answer that” sighing you walk towards the door, propping your phone on the counter, Zion moans out loud. “Maybe I should’ve slept over last night! Who told you to look that good mamas?” Ignoring his flirty antics you open the door, glimpsing at fresh bouquets of your favorite flower and a self-care basket. “Baby!!!” You screech, Zion simpers at the brightest smile on your face. The sun doesn’t shine as bright as you did at the moment.

“Why?, why are you so loving to me” you start to happy cry “Nah baby none of that, I love you too damn much for you to self-deprecate” Zion shuts your negativity down. Flipping the card over you read the message. ‘You thought I’d forget the day you changed my life? I’ve always loved you and I’ll continue to love you, but it’s not your love that I adore the most, it’s those gorgeous eyes that look back at me. Like I’m some type of angel when we all know that’s you, it’s the way you’re compassionate about others, I love your free spirit baby you’re a dove to me, even though I get under your nerves, I wouldn’t want anyone else to deal with me or my problems happy one year’

You look up at Zion, his eyes were already glossing by admiring your figure. Oh, how you wish jumping through a screen wasn’t just a cartoon thing. “Fuck” you whisper covering your face “angel, you are beautiful” Zion reminds you “stop!!! I’m in my feelings!!” You Jokingly spat at him. “What you wanna do for our anniversary it’s up to you” Zion smiles.

“Can we go to a petting zoo then get tacos?” Your eyes sparkling as your lips turn into a pout, Zion looking up towards the ceiling as his Adam’s apple points at the camera. “Yes, how could I say no” twenty minutes later Zion was at your house, complimenting you the whole car ride. Protectively and passionately rubbing circles on your knees being careful not to raise his hand any further.

“Look! Rabbits” Zion follows your finger pulling you in that direction, you sit on the bench holding the rabbit in your lap feeding it the food. Zion takes pictures of you getting the best angles, falling in love with your beauty, even more, the way the golden light bounced off your skin. It made him think twice if you were real or just a lucid dream. Feeding the monkeys were the best part, they hugged you and Zion; even gave you two kisses. The giraffes were the most exciting to you, joking to your boyfriend “wow look something taller than you”. Walking into a blue-lit aquarium a class of fish surrounded the both of you. Your finger softly touching the fish that was pressed against the glass, it followed your every move. Never realizing Zion detached his hand from yours, it hasn’t hit you until a ring was slid on your finger.

“Not an engagement ring, but soon don’t worry this is a promise ring, and I promise that you’ll feel nothing but comfort and love with me” his fingers gripped into your waist “with a side of pleasure too” you smack his shoulder while smiling ear for ear. “You promise?” “Of course I do, I wholeheartedly promise, I will never hurt or disrespect you baby, you mean too much to me”

Once you were back to the apartment your body couldn’t even make it to the bed, but Zion helped you to the bathroom. To wash off the dirt and sweat, even helped you with your skin routine. His fingers padding over every inch of your back, your soft snores in the crook of his neck. “I’m so glad to be the girlfriend of your dreams” you whisper “oh lord she’s finally figured it out!!” Zion pushes your buttons “should I send you back home?” You test him, “you wouldn’t dare, you need me tonight” Zion teases his swollen lips attacking your neck upwards your jawline, a low gruffly growl trickles down your spine.

“So is this the side of pleasure?” You press your teeth into your lower lip “if that’s what you want”

“Well, you did make a promise” wasting no time Zion straddles you, your legs wrapped around his waist, giggling at how he fumbled to remove his shirt.

“You damn right I made a promise, and I’ll show you how serious this promise is” Zion kisses up your stomach “I love you”

Your hands cupping his jaw the breathing becoming erratic “I love you too”

#prettymuch #zion kuwonu #prettymuch zion

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dialoguelostloop · 4 years

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my hand slipped for about 10 days straight or so! have some hollow knight gijinkas! (and there are at least 3 more i want to do, too! i just didnt want to run out of photoset space lol)

UPDATE: i drew a lot more than just 3 lol. gijinkas part 2 (hollow, grimm, the white lady, radi, lace, seer, marmu, unn, bretta, cloth, & myla) can be found here.

i’ll put notes about these under a readmore for curious parties.

please read my faq page! (tl;dr version: dont use my art for icons/graphics/whatever without getting my permission beforehand, please use they/them pronouns for ghost and the other vessels in any tags/commentary, dont tag as kin/me/whatever pls)

GHOST - all vessels are albino and have glossy black pools of void for eyes. i think proximity to the void/the pale beings influences how much the vessels grow so ghost, who ollied out early and never came back to hallownest, has been 4′7″ forever even into adulthood (theyre supposed to be in their early 20s here). yes they are Incredibly salty about this. all vessels probably started out with similar Undertale-Brand Androgynous Chin Length Haircuts(tm) with small differences; ghost's identifiers are no bangs (with that hair tucked behind their ears) & big chunky eyebrows.

HORNET - is where i started making gijinkas because i wanted to see more brown hornet lol. i see a lot of parallels between hollow knight lore & australian history in general, and the deepling-weaver lore reminded me of the makassan muslim traders who were on friendly terms with many indigenous australian groups pre-colonization. so... i got really excited about hijabi hornet and decided to Make My Own Content lol

MONOMON - i love valdotpng’s locs monomon So Much i decided to make my monomon gijinka a different ethnicity just to make sure i wouldnt copy that design lmfao. i went with korean monomon because women’s hanbok have such big poofy skirts and lots of dangly stuff (goreum etc) that could echo her jellyfish features. shes trans by the way

HERRAH - incorporated a bunch of den sculpture motifs in her crown and cloak with spiderweb patterns on the cloak hem and the front of her tunic. her and hornet’s 6-braid hairstyles when veiled are the same because i like to make myself sad, which is why baby hornet is also there on her ref

LURIEN - the four-leaf-clover-shaped bun in his put-together pics is courtesy of monomon & herrah who decided to do something with his hair since he wouldn’t. scruffy lurien on his solo ref has been writing reports for 3 days straight w/o painting breaks, has been sleeping in his binder the whole time, & is about to get screamed at for it by monomon lol. he doesn’t wear gold jewelry as a show of loyalty to tpk

QUIRREL - everyone does little samurai quirrel but he talks like one in the jpn localization so everyone is valid actually. he’s very baby-faced for his age (27~30?) but still a whole foot taller than ghost. obv his trans tape is from monomon as u can tell from the notes but she gave him his earrings, netsuke, and inrou too. the ahoge in his ponytail are supposed to be like lil antennae

#hollow knight #hk gijinka #hollow knight spoilers #ghost hollow knight #hornet hollow knight #herrah the beast #monomon the teacher #lurien the watcher #quirrel hollow knight

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sunnybeas · 4 years

Text

saints in chains

Chapter One of Saints In Chains- wait out the plastic weather

summary: Gavin meets Connor's little brother and finds out love at first sight is real

cross posted on ao3

The first time Gavin Reed sees the RK900 he doesn’t have time to really look at him. It is an active crime scene that’s taking up the entire street and Gavin holes himself behind the barricade with Chen at his side. Teeth grit and hand sweating as he gripped his handgun, he only sees a white blur stride by and hoist itself over the barricade.

A curse is halfway out of his mouth because of course a civilian would get cocky and bolt but no- the damn thing rips the door off the hinges of a car and surges forward. And Gavin is sitting there, mouth open, in full view of the shooter. He drops down beside Chen again, who is equally as fucking gob smacked.

“Did you fucking see that?” Gavin demanded.

“Of course, I did! Did Fowler hire a fucking Terminator? What was that?” she asked back, rolling to her knees to peek over the car again.

Gavin scooted in next to her, eyes squinted. He felt like an idiot, gawking at the figure in white sprinting forward, car door acting as a shield and taking all the spray. It takes a leap and absolutely bodies the shooter, tossing the car door aside like a dinner plate. Its hand crunches the AK in its hand, and it misfires in the shooter’s hand. The fucker screams as the figure lifts him and slams him onto the concrete, knee on his back, hands pinned there securely.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit- “Gavin chanted, because the figure looks up and he’s half fucking sure he recognizes Connor’s smug little face. It’s different, though, and Gavin can’t quite pinpoint how because of the distance.

“Well done, see, I knew he’d do well.”

And that- that’s Connor’s peppy voice from behind him. Frowning, Gavin spins on his heel.

“What the fuck is happening here?” He asked, sharply.

Connor and Anderson were dressed all up in their vests. Gavin snorted at the sight of Connor in his. He had seen the android take more bullets than he could count. Had almost put one in him more than a few times.

The LED in Connor’s temple spins yellow briefly. “He has minor abrasions. Otherwise a near perfect introduction.” He smiled, too fucking bright and cheerful for Gavin, who was getting sick just looking at him.

“Con, dear, sweetheart, love, please make sense. What was that?” Chen finally cut in.

“My brother.” Connor replied simply, punctuating it with that dopey smile of his. His big ole doe eyes lifted past them and he rocked on his heels before starting forward.

Gavin turned to follow when he caught sight of their blur. And holy fuck. Holy shit, Gavin didn’t think they built androids like that. Connor’s ‘brother’ was a massive specimen, towering over the shooter, eyeing the suspect wearily with eyes so pale they may as well have been white.

It takes Gavin about five seconds to deduce that this thing, this android, was basically Connor on steroids. If that were something they could do, anyway. He was taller, a good foot or so, and he was fucking jacked, his arms thicker, shoulders broader. He looked scary as shit, his jaw sharper, wider, his eyes set in deeper and looking down at them all with those dead looking eyes.

He was hot. Like really, insanely, one of the hottest things Gavin had ever seen. And he hadn’t even looked his way yet. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. It. Whatever.

“Holy shit, just take a picture for your spank bank, creep.” Tina scoffed, elbowing him sharply.

“Chen, shut the fuck up.” Gavin hissed, his neck and ears burning at being caught checking out a fucking android. One with Connor’s face too.

The statement seemed to gain the android’s attention, though, because he looked up from Connor and stared directly at Gavin. Gavin couldn’t get a read on him, couldn’t eek the slightest bit of emotion from the thing’s blank ass face. His pale eyes flickered briefly over Gavin, almost sizing him up. Head tilted, eyes half lidded, the android regarded him for more than a few seconds. It was deliberate. Was it trying to intimidate him?

“RK?” Connor’s voice broke through and the android looked away from Gavin, finally, to return his attention to Connor.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Gavin cursed, turning on his heel to Chen. “Come on, we don’t need to be here anymore. Thing one n’ two got it.”

They started back to Chen’s patrol car. She widened her stride to keep up with how fast Gavin was walking.

Chen tossed her head back to laugh. “Look at you, lil’ Gavin Reed running scared from some sexy robot. Gav, did you see his pecs? Or his arms? Why did they give an android an ass that- “?

Gavin groaned. “I fucking saw! Cyberlife’s a bunch of fucking perverts. Holy shit, Tina.” He scrubbed his face with his hand.

Tina clambered into the driver’s seat, grinning. “He better be at the station.”

And fuck- Gavin hadn’t even considered that.

As luck would have it, God fucking hated Gavin Reed. He had just settled into his desk when Connor came striding in, Anderson at his side and leading their perp and the fucking Iron Giant trailing behind. Immediately Gavin looked towards Chen, who was practically vibrating in her seat. She shot him a grin and a wink before standing up from her seat.

Anderson spoke lowly to Connor before nodding and taking the perp to the back. Which left Connor standing there with his grumpy looking twin. Chen chose this moment to strike.

“Hey, Connor, who’s this?” She asked.

Connor beamed, clearly tickled fucking pink that someone was taking an interest in his little pet project. He lifted a hand and gestured to the android beside him. “This is RK, my little brother. He moved here and Fowler offered him a position. Today was his trial. I’m fairly sure he exceeded Fowler’s expectations.” Connor reported, absolutely glowing with pride.

Gavin snorted at his desk. Little? Little wasn’t a word to describe that ‘droid.

“I’m Tina Chen, nice to meet you.” Chen offered her hand, smiling politely in that way of hers. Tina brought out the good in everyone.

The android hesitated, studying her hand before taking it and shaking it carefully. “Nice to meet you, Officer Chen.” And oh- his voice was Connor’s but pitched lower.

It sounded surprisingly good. Fuck. Gavin hated him. Hated his pretty, stupid face.

“Gav, come say hi to the new guy!” Chen called, turning to face him with a wide, smug smile on her face.

Gavin decided he hated her too. No more coffee runs or donuts for her. She was dead to him.

“I’m good.” He said, instead.

Connor frowned. The big guy didn’t do anything, just stared. Shit.

“RK and Hank are going to be interrogating the shooter. I’ll be reviewing the footage if anyone has any need for me.” Connor informed Tina.

“Gavin and I can help with that!” Tina blurted out.

Connor blinked, clearly surprised. “You want to help me?” His eyes flickered uncertainly to Gavin, who was making a face, his middle finger up and pointed to Connor.

“I want to see that asshole getting his up close and personal.” Tina said. “Reed won’t admit it, but he does too.”

Gavin again held his middle finger up, though neither Connor or Tina were looking his way. He, instead, caught the attention of RK. And Gavin swore, he fucking swore, he saw the flicker of a smile on his face.

“Okay, that’s fine then.” Connor was still uncertain, but Tina was insistent.

He wasn’t sure why until they were seated all together, huddled up in front of the screen.

Seeing it from afar had been one thing but holy shit, seeing RK900 in action up close was a whole different experience.

“Holy shit.” Gavin rasped out, watching as he ripped the car door with his bar hands from the hinges. He sat tall in his seat.

RK hadn’t stopped, hadn’t faltered once as the shooter had let loose a barrage. He had just driven forward, expression drawn, brow furrowed. And then he had crushed the barrel of the gun like it were made of cheap plastic, ignoring the blast of the misfire and splatter of thirium on his open palm. He lifted the perp up by the coat.

“God, I wish that were me.” Gavin murmured, sinking into his seat. His eyes tracked how fluidly RK moved.

Tina choked out a laugh from beside him. “You’re a fucking mess.”

Connor frowned, so severely that his stupid forehead dented in from the faux wrinkles.

“Please don’t objectify RK in front of me.” He requested, weakly.

“Connor, where the fuck have you been hiding my teenage wet dream from?” Gavin demanded, emboldened by RK’s absence.

Connor’s head bowed and he rubbed at his temples needlessly.

“Gavin, that’s his baby brother!” Tina chided, smacking at his arm, though she wore a broad grin on her lips. She loved Gavin when he was in a mood like this.

“Baby brother my fucking ass, look at him- “

“You wish he were fucking- “

“I am literally begging you to stop.” Connor interjected.

“Listen, I’m trying to do some begging myself here, Connor, so help me out here.” Gavin continued.

Connor let out a pained groan and dropped his head completely into his palms in the same moment Tina let out a cackling laugh, her head tossed back.

“You’re intolerable.” Connor accused, shaking his head as he stood up. “I brought this for research purposes, and you’ve ruined it.”

“Wish your brother would ruin me.” Gavin mumbled.

Connor paused, his LED blipping red before he promptly turned on his heel and strode quickly out of the room. In his absence, the two dissolved into laughter.

“I think you broke him this time. Anderson is gonna be on your ass for traumatizing his boyfriend.” Tina snorted, wiping tears from her eyes.

Gavin reached forward and rolled the vid back, taking extra care to watch how RK had lifted the man with absolutely no effort. Oh. This might become a problem.

“If you’re done, Fowler wants to speak to you.” Connor poked his head around through the door again, frowning sourly at the screen and where it had paused.

Gavin sighed and forced himself to his feet. He tossed the remote Chen’s way.

“It’s not going to be as much fun without you.” She complained.

“Just enjoy the eye candy, Chen.” Gavin shrugged, following Connor down the hall.

Just looking at Connor, the differences between he and his younger counterpart were drastic. Their faces were eerily similar but RK’s had a sharpness where Connor’s was soft. Connor was clearly meant to assimilate where RK looked the complete opposite. Like he was meant to be identified as an android. What had he been made for that he was built that mean looking?

Hands shoved into his pockets; Gavin turned to the door of Fowler’s office. Knocking twice, he stepped in. Directly into the personal space of RK, who did not budge even as Gavin knocked his shoulder clumsily into his mid arm. And Christ on a fucking cracker, Gavin’s head barely measured to his shoulder. He swallowed hard.

“Reed, you meet RK yet?” Fowler asked, shifting in his seat just slightly to face him.

“Uh, sort of.” He took a long step back, hands curling to fists in his jacket pocket.

“Well, better get the introductions out now. He’s your new partner.” He paused, eyes squinting up at Gavin, waiting for the explosion.

RK looked down, extended his hand which was going to swallow Gavin’s in it. Even his hands were built big. Vaguely, Gavin wondered how they would feel-

“It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m RK.”

Gavin had been right before. This was going to be a big fucking problem.

#reed900 #rk900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor

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eeveevie · 4 years

Text

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (6/18)

Chapter 6: Not on My Clothes

In the aftermath of Ticonderoga’s destruction, Madelyn and Deacon seek refuge at Valentine Detective Agency only for their partnership to be questioned. Shaken by her near-death experience, she spends some time away from the Railroad but eventually reunites with Deacon for a heartfelt conversation over coffee. Ultimately, the two are sent by Doctor Carrington to investigate one of the last remaining safehouses but come up short. Later, at her apartment, the two find themselves closer than ever.

“I can afford a blemish on my character, but not on my clothes.” –Shelby Carpenter as played by Vincent Price (Laura, 1944)

x - x

[read on Ao3] x [chapter masterpost]

February 17th, 1958

What occurred after the explosion was still a blur.

Deacon was quick to usher Madelyn off-site as the fire brigade and police descended upon the scene, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he scurried them away from prying eyes. She was too shell-shocked to resist, even if she knew deep down it was too dangerous to linger behind and risk being cornered by an unknown enemy. You can’t trust everyone—Deacon’s words echoed through her mind as they rushed down the Boston sidewalks to safety—but then, who could she trust?

Madelyn’s fear didn’t subside even as they hailed a cab from a quiet street corner close to Cambridge, noting the way her partner still clung to her side as he kept a careful watch on their surroundings. She felt safe there, tucked against his chest, but simultaneously the thought registered that being by his side was what got her into that mess in the first place. Instead of returning to her apartment, or to the Old North Church (any Railroad safehouse was a dangerous bet at the time), she instructed the driver to head to the Fens.

Deacon clasped her hand, gloved fingers tightening around her own as they watched the billowing smoke ascend into the night sky from the back-seat window. They turned to face each other, Madelyn regarding herself in the reflection of his shades before remembering for a brief moment she had seen what was underneath. But it was neither the time nor place to be swept up in emotions, daydreaming about having his baby-blues locked on her as they were whisked away from destruction. Instead, she looked away and allowed the familiar pangs of guilt to worm its way into her chest.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time they reached the agency, and while the neon sign outside was turned off, she could see a few lights on inside indicating life. Sunday evening meant Jenny was working the overnight shift at the hospital, leaving Nick to his own devices and with nobody to tell him to go home. As Deacon helped her from the cab her suspicions were confirmed, spotting Nick’s black Cadillac parked along the curbside. Behind it was Piper’s red Beetle—fantastic. Madelyn didn’t feel like explaining herself, but the longer she idled with Deacon’s hand on the small of her back the more exhausted she became. With nowhere else to go, it was time to face the music.

The lobby was dark and momentarily, she thought she could sneak the two to her office on the other side of the room. Deacon caught on, the two quietly shuffling across the floorboards while eying the second, half-closed door with Nick Valentine etched into the frosted glass pane. Soft, echoes of laughter spilled from the room, the sounds of clinking glasses and Nick grumbling about something. There was a different voice, one she couldn’t pin down—but it wasn’t important—she fumbled with her set of keys, desperately trying to remain quiet in her own place of employment like she didn’t have every right to be there.

“What the—oh, hey, Miss Lawyer.”

Madelyn froze, glancing over her shoulder to see somebody she didn’t expect to—Robert MacCready—leaning in Nick’s doorway and opening it wider so more light spilled out to shine across her and her companion’s body. Deacon sidled closer behind her, either to slip further into the shadows or to force himself into her office—she couldn’t tell. MacCready’s eyebrows shot up a little when he realized she had a guest.

“Oh, so you came to have a lil’ fun with your friend?” he asked, clearly inebriated off of Nick’s private stash of too-good whiskey. The poor kid didn’t know what hit him, and really needed to stop talking. Despite the night she had had, she could feel her whole body burning and heard the softest smirk from Deacon behind her. MacCready gave the two an encouraging thumbs up. “That’s awesome.”

“What?” Piper’s excited voice spilled out from the office.

Before Madelyn could think to hide Deacon somewhere—anywhere (where the hell was she supposed to hide a six-foot-plus tall man in less than a second, anyway?)—her friend was standing in the lobby, flicking on the lights to expose them both. She snapped her eyes shut tightly, unprepared for the brightness and not realizing how sensitive they still were from the blast. She stumbled, but Deacon was ever the sturdy protector beside her, keeping her upright.

“Holy shit, Blue!” Piper announced, the shift in her tone worrisome. Madelyn peeked open her eyes to see the reporter staring at her agape, gaze shifting across her form. “What the hell happened to you?” Piper’s stare lingered where Deacon’s hands were still about her waist. “And who the hell are you?”

That’s when Madelyn realized her appearance was less than stellar—her coat was frayed, singed at the edges from the explosion and even though it was black, it did little to disguise the sprinkling of ash. Her stockings were ripped across the knees, and her heels were just as tattered, one buckle broken and missing. She needed a proper mirror but judging by what she could see in the reflection of her office door, her hair was a mess, golden-blonde curls awry. She quickly discarded a glove to touch at her forehead, realizing that there was a bruise, and on the corner of her lip, a small cut. She wondered if there were any other injuries she hadn’t discovered.

“Madelyn?”

Just as she was wiping away the blood from her face, Nick appeared in the doorway of his office, his confusion quickly shifting into one of concern as he noted the state she was in. Her remorse bloomed into full force—she hated to make Nick worry, and she’d been doing a lot of that lately with her newfound partnership with the Railroad. Rather suddenly she moved away from Deacon, noticing how reluctant he was to let her go. She rushed across the agency lobby and straight into Nick, wrapping her arms around his chest in a tight hug. Unable to fight back the tears that clouded her vision she buried her face into his shoulder, breathing in deep the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes.

“Hey, doll,” Nick shushed her, clearly alarmed by her sudden show of emotions. She hadn’t cried—at least not in front of him—in a long time. One hand slid affectionately along her back as the other cradled her head. His voice was quiet as he mumbled against her temple. “What are you doing here so late? What happened?”

Madelyn didn’t know where to start—a secret mission for the Railroad to smuggle a witness to a crime out of the city that ended in a car-bomb blowing up half a building and left two people dead. At least she figured High Rise and Henry were dead—they had been so close to the explosion, to have survived would be a miracle. Their deaths weighed heavily on her shoulders and her knees practically buckled beneath her as another sob racked through her.

Nick was quick to pull her into his office, depositing her into her favored armchair before his desk. He hunched down beside her, hands on either side of her head as he inspected her face. She and Nick had a close bond, but even this sort of contact was unusual for them—he hadn’t needed to comfort her so intensely since Nate’s murder. Madelyn tried to lean away but he didn’t let her, thumb softly brushing over the growing bump on her temple before smoothing her hair back into place. She flicked her gaze over the armchair to find MacCready and Piper in the doorway, effectively blocking Deacon from entering the room. However, being more than a head taller than them both, his displeasure was easy to see.

Nick noticed where she was looking and grumbled, leaning back on his haunches as he glanced over his shoulder. “Deacon,” he seethed. “Mind telling me why the two of you have shown up in the dead of night, looking like this?”

Madelyn hadn’t heard that kind of vitriol from the detective directed at anyone but Eddie Winter. She shifted upright, reaching out to place a calming hand on her partner’s shoulder, but he was steadfast, focused on hearing the truth from the other man. MacCready and Piper both shifted, turning to stare at Deacon with similar, questionable expressions—though, Mac was considerably more amused by the situation, fueled by whatever booze they had been drinking before the two had shown up.

“Railroad business.”

Now was not the time for Deacon to be secretive or evasive with the organization’s going’s on, but he didn’t offer anything else, regarding Madelyn with a look that was too hard to read—why couldn’t he just be honest—for once in their brief and complicated partnership? The short answer wasn’t what Nick or Piper were looking for.

“Excuse me?” the reporter snapped, arms crossed. “The Railroad? You mean to tell me that you…” she poked a finger at his chest, prompting Deacon to glance down at her. Piper then gutted a thumb in Madelyn’s direction. “…and Blue are working for the Railroad?”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a smallest of smirks. “We’re partners.”

Nick took full offense to that, standing up in a snap. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I don’t?” Deacon’s brows shot up, not expecting an argument. “That’s what we are, Nicky-boy.”

Madelyn furrowed her brow, looking over at him in alarmed confusion. Where was this animosity coming from? Nick shook his head, hand waving in disagreement.

“Some partner you are, getting Madelyn into danger,” he bellowed. “If you can’t protect your partner, then you’re better off working alone!”

Deacon pushed his way past Piper and into the room. At first he didn’t say anything, mouth twitching like the detective’s words had stunned him into silence—it didn’t last. “How hypocritical, considering the kind of risks she’s facing working with you!” he retorted. “Corruption, gangsters, murderers? I bring her back here with a few scratches but what’s to say you won’t bring her back here in a casket?”

MacCready and Piper both rang out in a chorus of offended gasps. Nick bunched up his sleeves at his elbows and for a fleeting moment, Madelyn wondered what it would be like to see him smack some sense into Deacon. Reality caught up to her pounding head and she pushed herself out of the chair, wedging herself between the two men before they could scrap.

“There’s been enough bloodshed tonight,” she pleaded, the tremor in her voice making it unrecognizable. She pushed at their chests to further separate them, letting her hand linger against Deacon’s coat lapel. “For once Deacon, just shut up.”

He flinched back at her words, expression falling into one of remorse. Before he could cover her hand with his own, she had turned away to frown at Nick. “You should know more than anyone that I don’t need protecting,” she chastised. “I can handle myself, Nick. It doesn’t matter if I’m working with you or with the Railroad or if I’m on my own.”

In a huff she collapsed back into the armchair, reaching up to wipe at the last traces of her tears. From the doorway, MacCready swiftly moved towards Nick’s desk, swooping up a glass tumbler and filling it with a generous amount of whiskey before bringing it to Madelyn with a smile. She was appreciative of the gesture and even though it was—she wasn’t even sure of the time anymore—she took a deep drink. Piper entered the room again, glaring at Deacon as she passed by him to sit in the opposite armchair.

“There was an explosion,” she whispered, finally offering some kind of explanation. She pressed the cold glass to her temple to soothe the headache that had only increased since the bombing.

Nick leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms as he looked to Deacon for confirmation. The detective seemed to be barely containing his anger at the revelation. The Railroad agent gave a little nod. “We were escorting a…friend.”

Madelyn shook her head, sighing as she remembered everything Henry had reluctantly told her in the Cambridge church. “Nick, we were helping a witness to Johnny Montrano’s murder.”

The detective went slack with shock before blindly reaching back for his pack of smokes. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What does that have to do with the Railroad?” Piper asked, her question directed at Deacon rather than Madelyn. “Do you know how long I’ve been chasing down the rumor that you are behind the disappearances and murders around town?”

“Likely just as long as we’ve been investigating them,” Deacon replied. “We’ve had our own share of setbacks.”

Madelyn knew that and had divulged some of those obstacles to Nick but Piper and MacCready were in the dark. She didn’t want to reveal too much and compromise an entire operation, even if the Railroad was hardly working at maximum efficiency.

“We were helping him get out of the city, he said he was afraid for his life,” she explained.

“Was he being threatened by Eddie Winter?” Nick mumbled around his cigarette, his irritation had returned. “Is that why you were targeted? Who else knew you were on the move tonight?”

Deacon was quick to argue, shaking his head. “Eddie Winter is a coincidence. There’s a safehouse with a giant, smoldering hole in it that screams this was an attack against the Railroad.”

“Ever stop to think that it could be both?” Piper quipped, cooling them off before the two men could get into another dispute. “We’ve sniffed out enough corruption in this town that somebody could’ve been hired to knock out two birds with one stone and send us on a wild goose chase trying to figure out the truth.”

Madelyn considered the reporter’s words, knowing what she proposed made a lot of sense. Still, a valuable asset in the agency’s investigation of Eddie Winter had been lost—she flicked her gaze to Deacon, who was pensive—she couldn’t possibly imagine the kind of loss he was processing. First the Switchboard and now Ticonderoga—he had barely survived both—and had saved her life in the process of surviving the second. She kept her eyes on him, the ache in her chest almost too painful to bear. Death and destruction seemed to follow him like he was cursed—maybe she had the right idea to stay away the first time, maybe it was telling she had never properly organized him on her Railroad pros and cons list. If she ran away from the Railroad, from being his partner again, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to return—regardless of how she might felt for him.

“I’m sorry Nick,” she sighed, looking back to the detective. “I would’ve liked for the witness to help us. He was our last best lead to go after Winter.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” MacCready chimed in, leaning over the back of the armchair. He had been fairly quiet during the entire exchange but was now fully invested and had apparently sobered up. He looked between Piper and Nick before focusing on Madelyn again. “I know you’ve been looking for these handwritten notes signed by Winter himself but what if I told you there’s voice recordings?”

Having an informant was starting to pay off—if the information was accurate. Nick looked at him skeptically. “Where’d you hear this?”

“Pays to spend most of your time in a dive-bar,” the former mercenary laughed. “Off duty cops and the like are always spreading secrets through loose lips.”

Nick and Madelyn locked eyes, but she had already heard enough. It was well enough that they could pretend this was good news, but she was still trying to process the night’s events. She blamed having her brain rattled around on why she ever thought it was a good idea to come to the agency in the first place, looking at the group of people around her. If what MacCready was saying was true, she could hear about it later, after she had time to recover. As he and Piper idly chatted about the details of his eavesdropping, Deacon inched closer to where she was sitting and carefully, subtly offered his hand. She frowned, giving a little shake of her head. The guilt was overwhelming, but she couldn’t—not now.

Instead, she looked to Nick who had observed the entire exchange. Surprisingly, his expression had softened, remembering that Madelyn had once expressed to him that she could potentially hold feelings for the man standing next to her. If the circumstances were different—if the two had returned to her apartment maybe—she would’ve let him comfort her and do more than just hold her hand. She didn’t dwell on the what if.

“Nick,” she barely called for him. “Can you take me home?”

“Sure, doll. Sure,” he answered, not missing a beat as he stubbed out his smoke. As he shrugged on his trench coat and fitted his hat atop his head, he regarded Piper. “Think you can lock up?”

“Yeah,” she replied, glowering at the Railroad agent again. “As soon as I take out the trash.”

“Piper,” Madelyn warned, standing to make her exit with Nick. Beside her, Deacon tensed, and she flashed him one last lingering look. “I’ll see you later, Deacon.”

He didn’t sound so convinced, his solemn tone nearly tearing her apart. “Be seeing you, Charmer.”

March 4th, 1958

Avoiding the Railroad was a lot easier the second time around.

Madelyn wondered as the days and weeks passed if it was because she had come so close to death and they were allowing her the space, or they had their own mess to clean up and couldn’t be bothered. Either way, they didn’t try to contact her. Other than Drummer Boy passing a note that High Rise and Henry were confirmed as deceased, her neighbor—agent—kept his distance, politely smiling when their paths crossed in the apartment hallway. There were no updates, no dead drops and no secret messages from her partner.

She hadn’t intended to shut Deacon out again, but this time she had plenty of more reasons to be anxious of him and the organization he worked for. It wasn’t confusion over guilt-ridden emotions she was running from, but rather genuine fear that kept her away. While the point had been made that she wasn’t any better off working as Nick’s legal assistant, in the two years she had been at the agency, she had never suffered a mild concussion—let alone survive a car-bomb. It had only taken a few weeks of knowing Deacon for her to come so close to death and it unnerved her. Despite it all, a small part of her missed him—missed their strange connection—and she had spent more than a few nights foolishly wondering what could’ve been.

In his absence, she backslid to sulking about, putting on a front for Nick and Piper at the agency as they worked the Eddie Winter case files, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered when her friends could tell she was faking most of her cheerfulness. With all that was occurring, she wasn’t sure what the point of it all was anymore. Codsworth also noted her shift in mood, the poor robot-butler doing everything he could to cheer her up with elaborate meals and bad jokes, going as far as to deep clean the entire apartment just so she wouldn’t have to lift a finger when she returned home from work. Madelyn stuck to her routines—day-in and day-out, hoping that one morning she would wake up and feel normal, or at least as normal as she had been before New Year’s Eve.

On a day off, she woke to find Codsworth cooking up another too-big breakfast while Dogmeat happily barked, knowing it was highly probable he was to get the extra bacon she didn’t eat. Before she could sit down on one of the empty barstools, she noticed the bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle of the small kitchen island, already in a vase and water.

“Codsworth, honey,” she carefully reached out to touch the delicate petals—daisies and forget-me-nots—her heart was racing. “Where did these come from?”

“It was the strangest occurrence, mum,” the robot answered, one eye looking back at her as he continued his tasks. “There was a knock at the door just before you woke up but when I answered, there was nobody in the hallway. Just these flowers.”

Madelyn inspected the flora, knowing exactly where and who they had come from. She was caught off guard by how disappointed she was that Deacon hadn’t at least tried to charm his way into her apartment like last time. “No note?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Madelyn.”

Suddenly, her own home felt stuffy, and it wasn’t because of the toast Codsworth had managed to burn—again. Madelyn excused herself from the counter and back to her bedroom where she quickly dressed, offering the Mister Handy a speedy apology as she made her exit from the apartment. Maybe if she was fast enough, she could catch up to him before he got too far. She passed Drummer Boy on the way down the many flights of stairs, pausing in her rushed steps to question him.

“Deacon was just here, wasn’t he?”

The Railroad agent shrugged, but his little smile gave him away. Madelyn didn’t bother to linger, continuing to hurry down the stairwell. Drummer Boy shouted from behind her. “Tell him I was right! He owes me two dollars!”

On the street, she looked down both directions of the sidewalk for a suspiciously tall man in sunglasses. She thought it would be easier to pin him down, but for all she knew he could’ve been disguised as the postman. A few minutes passed and she nearly resigned herself to go back inside, feeling rather silly for her rash decision to come outside in the first place—they were just flowers—it didn’t mean anything. That’s when she saw Deacon standing on the street corner, purchasing a newspaper from the local kiosk before continuing on. Madelyn hurried down the sidewalk to match his stride, and nearly reached out to grab at his arm before stopping herself short.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she huffed out the question, out of breath from chasing him down.

Deacon stopped to look down at her, the surprise quickly molding into one of amusement as he regarded her appearance. In her rush to get out of her apartment, she hadn’t bothered to button her coat, and only then did she notice that she was wearing mismatched shoes. She did well to hide her embarrassment, crossing her arms like she dressed this way all the time. He looked just about the same from the last time she saw him, with a dark coat over his casual attire—like a man on his way to work.

“Slocum’s Joe,” he answered with a smile. “For my morning coffee. Care to join, Charmer?”

Madelyn was taken aback by how relaxed he seemed, considering their last interaction. Instead of reading into it, she nodded, pleased to have heard her Railroad callsign once more. It didn’t sound right coming from anyone but him. Deacon led them around the block to the Cambridge coffee house, the two walking in a strange kind of silence that persisted as they took their seats in one of the tiny, vinyl blue booths. He ordered for her—because of course he remembered her coffee order—and then just stared in her direction. Well, she could only assume so—too much hidden behind those glasses of his.

“You got the flowers?” he asked.

“Yes,” Madelyn answered, tilting her head to the side. The moment felt far too serious. “Well, Codsworth did. He thinks they’re lovely.”

“Good,” Deacon smirked. “A robot deserves something nice now and again.”

The waitress delivered their drinks and Madelyn watched as he inspected his as always before taking a careful taste. She wondered if there was ever a time when he wasn’t paranoid, or if he ever let his guard down. He was a master at pretending to be cool, calm and relaxed—but it was all a façade—something she was very familiar with. Two peas in a pod, they were. As she sipped at her coffee, she thought about her neighbor.

“You owe Drummer Boy money?”

He softly chuckled. “He bet that you would want to see me, and that I should’ve pressed my luck by sticking around this morning.”

“He was right,” she answered, hiding her smile behind another drink. The warmth of her coffee disguised the flush to her face—she wasn’t sure why she had decided to be so forward. “You shouldn’t make a bet against the man who has been observing my behaviors for the last four months.”

Deacon laughed harder, nodding in agreement. “Either way, I’m just glad to hear you don’t hate my guts.”

“You assume too much,” she teased. “Maybe I wanted to see you so I could stick Codsworth on you.”

“Charmer,” he said the name solemnly, harkening back to that last night in the agency. “This isn’t easy, but you deserve an apology. For getting mixed up in our mess. Your ol’ detective was right, about a lot of things. Namely, how piss-poor of a job I did at protecting you.”

She disagreed. “I’d say saving me from an explosion is better than piss-poor.”

Deacon grumbled. “Point being you should not have been anywhere near the explosion in the first place.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Madelyn protested. “I can take care of myself. While it’s comforting to know that you and Nick are so worried, it’s also incredibly frustrating that you don’t have faith in my capabilities. Wasn’t that why I was recruited to the Railroad in the first place?”

He floundered, filling the silence with a big gulp of coffee. “You got me there.”

Madelyn glanced to the newspaper on the table beside their cups and noticed an article that detailed the investigation into the car-bombing that destroyed the Cambridge street corner was at a standstill—as expected. With a frown, she contemplated the amount of devastation she had faced over the years.

“There’s been so much death,” she started with a whisper. “I’ve seen so much death. I know you have too.” She wasn’t blind to that, wasn’t ignorant. Deacon remained silent, watching her carefully. “Working with Nick and investigating the murders, the disappearances, we’ve seen so much.”

Madelyn glanced down to her wedding ring and fiddled with the band. “I told you I was widowed.”

“He was murdered in Boston Common, two Christmases ago,” she admitted in a shaky breath. “A complete stranger came up to us and held us at gun point and then…shot him. Nate died in the street—in my arms—before help could arrive.”

“Shit, Charmer, I—” Deacon’s mouth skewed aside as he fumbled over the right words to say. “Did they ever catch the son-of-a-bitch?”

She shook her head, gasping back her tears. “No. Nick and I have…” she wavered, unsure why she was divulging information that she typically kept locked up tight. Madelyn found her resolve. “Just know that whatever happens, it can’t get much worse than what I’ve already experienced.”

He nodded and looked as though he was going to say something but changed his mind at the last second. Instead, he finished off his coffee, glancing down at the porcelain bottom. “Understandable why you’d be skeptical of our organization, though.”

“You said it yourself, you can’t trust everyone,” she spoke, voice going soft. His head perked up at that, not expecting her to use the phrase back at him. “I want to know that I can at least trust you.”

Deacon was quiet for a long time.

“My relationship with the truth rubs some people the wrong way,” he admitted with a smirk before it dissolved right off his face. “Charmer, I want—”

Madelyn’s heart strained in her chest at his hesitation, and the tension in his voice. If she were to even begin to think about rejoining the Railroad—again—she needed to know her faith, and feelings, weren’t misguided.

“If you believe anything, believe this,” Deacon continued, slowly reaching over to place his hand over hers. She welcomed the touch, smiling as she flipped her palm up to cup his fingers. “I’m in your corner. Always have been.”

March 7th, 1958

Stanley Carrington was not what Madelyn expected when she was first introduced to the doctor in the catacombs beneath the Old North Church. Apparently, the Railroad physician wasn’t overly impressed by Charmer—questioning her routine absences, regardless of how much Desdemona and Deacon talked her up.

“I still can’t believe Dez recruited you,” he groused, face in a permanent scowl.

“So, you must be head of the unwelcoming committee,” Madelyn jested, earning a chuckle from Deacon.

Carrington glared at them both. “I can see why they call you Charmer.”

“I don’t mean to get off on the wrong foot, Doctor,” she corrected with a smile. “I hope you’ll look past the risk of me being here.”

“We’ll see,” he replied quietly before sighing. “I understand you helped Deacon retrieve intel from the Switchboard. An extraordinary feat. Hardly the point.”

Madelyn wasn’t sure if there was a compliment buried in his sentence, but she continued to grin, hoping her expression would placate him in some way. She flashed her partner a knowing look. “What will it take for you to trust me?”

Carrington barked a sharp laugh, but considered her question, rubbing a few fingers at his chin. “With the Switchboard and Ticonderoga offline, we need to confirm if any of our other safehouses are operational. If you could look into the current status of Augusta Safehouse—so far, we haven’t made any contact with our agents there.”

Madelyn looked to Deacon who gave the doctor a simple nod in agreeance. “Blackbird and crew moved around a lot, last time I checked, they were holed up in some office building.”

“I’ll have Drummer Boy coordinate the dead drops once we confirm their last known location,” the doctor replied. He focused his attention back on Madelyn. “Have a care, Agent Charmer. Odds are very good you’re walking into something nasty.”

Augusta is still dark. Location enclosed. Exercise extreme caution.

Deacon and Madelyn picked up the note from a mailbox near Bunker Hill, only to be led back to an old abandoned medical building in Cambridge. The attached hospital was in decline, losing more and more patients to the nearby New England Medical Center, making the area practically deserted, especially for that time of night. And to think she lived not just a few blocks away.

“There’s the railsign,” Deacon mentioned, gesturing to the small etching on the brick wall by the door. To the unassuming, it looked like an unusual piece of graffiti, but to them, it was the marking of a Railroad safehouse. He frowned, motioning to a second, albeit hard to read drawing. “That looks like an x.”

“Danger?” Madelyn asked in a whisper.

He shrugged, moving past her so he could head through the entrance first. She was brought back to the night in which her and Nick had cornered Doctor Crocker in the Fens apartments and swiftly withdrew her pistol, keeping her aim low. While she didn’t anticipate any homicidal doctors jumping out at them, she wanted to be prepared for any possible threat. Deacon walked ahead in the dim lighting, leading the two through a lobby and down a hallway before stopping abruptly.

Something sticky was on their shoes.

She blinked down, hard to see in the dark, but she knew. “Is that blood?”

His next steps were measured, avoiding the stains on the tile flooring as he peered into the open room where the trail led. Without much thought, Madelyn went to follow and nearly toppled into his back as he stood frozen in the doorway, just looking within.

“Shit,” he breathed, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Quickly he turned to her, trying to shield her eyes in a hug but it was far too late for that—she had seen everything—the bodies stacked in a bloody pile, each with their own gunshot. Judging by blood and the smell, they had been there for a few days. A few cans of gasoline were littered about, but if arson was the end goal, the perpetrators had clearly decided against the action last minute or had been spooked. With the building being abandoned, it wasn’t any wonder the crime scene had gone undiscovered. She leaned away from him, taking careful note of the way his hands trembled—more Railroad agents dead—another safehouse lost.

“Deacon, we have to get out of here,” she urged, glancing down to ensure their feet weren’t tracking anymore of the blood-residue. She didn’t have a lot of faith in the Boston Police Department’s evidence collection techniques but didn’t want to give detectives a reason to come looking for them. “We can call it in.”

“Right,” he replied with a firm nod.

When he didn’t budge, she tugged on his arm, encouraging him to follow. They retraced their steps out the front door, Madelyn only pausing to tuck her weapon back into her purse. As inconspicuous as it was to walk calmly along the sidewalk, elbows linked, she felt like drowning in the adrenaline coursing through her veins. This wasn’t like the Switchboard—certainly not as awful as Ticonderoga—but to walk away from the scene like she hadn’t just been there was a hard pill to swallow. That was the reality of working for the Railroad, she supposed—if they stayed, the Boston police would have questions neither of them would be able to answer. Deacon was a great storyteller, a genius at crafting a lie any schmuck could believe but even Madelyn had a hard time thinking he’d be able to get them out of that big of a mess. It wouldn’t matter how many lawyers she knew at the District Attorney’s office either—a pile of dead bodies in a storage closet could very well be easily pinned on her and Deacon by a bunch of likely corrupt cops. She called Nick from the payphone outside her apartment building, who was disheartened to hear the news but promptly took the information, promising to alert the authorities in a way that it couldn’t be traced to either the agency or the Railroad.

The elevator was out again, prompting the two to climb the stairwell to the seventh floor. As Madelyn struggled to unlock the door to her apartment, she was thankful that Drummer Boy wasn’t lurking, waiting for some kind of update. Inside, she deposited her keys in the small dish, already working on the buttons of her coat so she could toss it over the back of the couch. Codsworth and Dogmeat were nowhere to be found and with a quick glance to her watch she figured the dog had likely whined his way into a late evening stroll.

Madelyn turned on the small lamp in the living room, circling around the tiny space so she could collapse onto her sofa, uncaring about how undignified she looked. Considering how much walking they had just done—from Cambridge to Bunker Hill and back again—her feet were aching. She reached to grab at the buckles of her shoes, but Deacon had followed close behind, already kneeling down on the ground before her knees to assist. His fingers made quick work of the straps around her ankles, slipping off each blue-hued heel before delicately maneuvering, carefully massaging the arches of her stocking-wrapped feet.

“All that running around and nothing to show for it except sore feet,” he teased in a soft voice, as if they hadn’t just stumbled across the scene of his fellow murdered Railroad agents. Master of deflection, he was—bury the pain deep. She was in no position to judge, feeling the sympathy wash through her—it was no way to live.

She watched him, overwhelmed by the gesture—it was too intimate, too domestic and yet so exactly in character for him that she didn’t pull away. Instead she shifted, thinking that at the angle they were positioned in, she might be able to get a peek at his eyes again. Even when the nightmares from the explosion plagued her sleep, Madelyn was calmed by the memory of cool blue eyes hovering over her—if only for a split second. She didn’t want to call herself desperate, but all she wanted was to see them again.

“I can stop if you want me to,” he said, permeating her thoughts.

Madelyn shook her head, a surprising warmth finding root in her chest. “It’s…nice.”

“I can settle for that,” he laughed, swapping for her other foot.

“This isn’t about you having a foot fetish, is it?” she joked, trying to keep the mood light. If that’s what he needed after what they had experienced that evening, then she could deliver.

“What if it is?”

Madelyn smiled, finding herself a little too exhausted to participate in a battle of wits with him. Better to just lean back and enjoy whatever moment they were sharing. Deacon continued his ministrations, but she noticed that his chin was angled upwards so that he was clearly looking at her from behind his shades. Whatever compelled her to lean forward, she couldn’t say. She wasn’t even aware she had gotten any closer to him until she was reaching out with one hand towards his face, watching his brows knit together in bewilderment before his expression softened in realization. Her fingers brushed against the corner of the darkened frames, causing him to edge closer, his hands sliding up her ankle to her calf.

“Deacon, can you take these off?” she asked, perhaps too quietly.

His lips quipped up in a smirk. “My glasses, or your stockings?”

All of her breath escaped her in one stunned huff, and the heat in her chest spread across her entire body. Her toes curled in his grasp and the way his eyebrow perked let her know he had noticed. She hadn’t been spoken to—flirted with—like that in ages. Her mind was a haze of thoughts and emotions—confusion, anticipation and want. Somewhere deeper was the lingering guilt, and the constant battle she always faced, wondering if she deserved a moment of happiness, even if it didn’t seem completely sensible. She wasn’t even sure if she was reading the scene correctly—where was this leading?

Before Madelyn could lean forward and find out, the front door opened, freezing her still.

“Oh! Miss Madelyn, you’re home!” Codsworth greeted, promptly closing the door behind him. Dogmeat barked happily as he rounded the room to sniff at the bodies on the couch. “And I see the milkman has decided to join us once again! How delightful!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Madelyn sighed, flicking her gaze to the ceiling.

Deacon softly chuckled, his breath fanning across her cheek as he gradually pulled away. “Adorable.”

“Might I get you anything mum?” Codsworth hovered behind the couch, completely incapable of realizing he had ruined a moment. Madelyn wasn’t sure what kind of moment—but it was lost. She slumped against the back of the couch, pressing her hand across her face in embarrassment.

“No thank you, dear,” she mumbled.

The robot whirred. “Sir, would you like anything?”

“Sir, did you hear that?” Deacon laughed to himself and she peeked out from under her fingers to find him shifting to stand. “No thank you, Codsworth darling. I should be seeing myself out. Wouldn’t want to impose. What would the neighbors think, a strange man occupying a lovely, young woman’s apartment at strange hours of the night?”

Madelyn kicked her foot against his shin playfully. “You’re overdoing it.”

“Me?” he motioned to himself. “Sweetheart, you don’t know a thing about Deacon and overdoing.”

She rolled her eyes, extending her arm so he’d help hoist her off the couch. His hand squeezed against her wrist, thumb passing along the skin there before withdrawing. This time, he meant every word he spoke. “Be seeing you, Charmer.”

Madelyn watched him as he departed, staring at the closed apartment door as her heart continued to race. “I’ll see you later, Deacon.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon #nick valentine #piper wright #robert joseph maccready #stanley carrington #codsworth is here for a blip #so much UST this chapter #also ANGRY NICK #and the footrub scene I wrote like three months ago arrives #light use of canon dialogue again #because 'in our corner speech' is too important #pls enjoy

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kpopsidiotspot · 5 years

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Members of SEVENTEEN That I Could / Could Not Take in a Fight

i could absolutely pummel them:

WONWOO - he looks mean and intimidating, but i know he is hiding under all that. would i feel good about it?? no. that doesn’t change the fact i would have nO problem overpowering and winning that lil quarrel. then we could read a book and chill or sumn

HOSHI - i love this boy, so i would feel vEry bad about it in the moment and after. let’s be honest, he’s a softie unless he’s teaching a dance. this is a “greaser x soc” type of rumble so i could dance ciRCLES around him. in conclusion, hoshi don’t step up to me. 10/10 would hug and give plushies to after

MINGYU - he is almost a whole foot taller than me, bUT he’s a big baby. i would gain nothing from absolutely destroying this soft man, but for the honor i would. i would probably cry with him after the ruff and tumble and like buy him an ice cream

SEUNGKWAN - dO i need to explain?? we’re both soft, but he’s sOFTer. my friend said, “his 100% would be like anyone else’s average.” he would give his all and i salute that, but there can only be one winner. xoxo, gossip squirrel. still would sing him to sleep after

if they’re having a bad day:

S COUPS - listen, any other day he would destroy me, so i have to take my chance. of course, i would lovingly pummel him and then maybe make him a hot chocolate and put on netflix to make him feel better. honestly, the fight might not even happen cus it would be unfair, but i would shoot my shot @ it

JUN - another cutie patootie that i wouldn’t hesitate to gamble with. i would never have another chance like this, so i would hAve to take it. it most likely would end bad because even on his off days he could make a dumb face at me and i would mELT PEOPLE. throw me across the room with a high note would you??

VERNON - i’m a lil iffy on him because i feel like he cOULD get some good shots in, but ultimately would give up to just vibe. he’s be like “bro, i just came to chill” after we had already been rolling around for 10 minutes and i would completely agree. it’d end up with both of us devouring chipotle or some shit

if i’m having a bad day:

JOSHUA - any other time i think we would be evenly matched tbh. bUt, if for some reason i’m a lil off, he would take that chance. i would get a few good punches in, but ultimately he would come up victorious by like beating me with a bible. my only weakness :((

DK - we would fOR SURE be an even match every other day. i would be talking shit the day before and when the time finally come i would bitch our, but oH no!!! nOt hiM!! i would take that beating too because i deserve it. thank you dk

would beat the fuck outta me:

JEONGHAN - y’all already know this. he looks passive aggressive or full aggressive mOst of the time. he’s supes chill and stuff, but when the time comes no ma’am. he would literally rOck my shit bro. i would be down after one throw, one hair flip, one fuCKING GLARE. i don’t play, so i wouldn’t try. won’t happen again father jeonghan, i’m sorry

WOOZI - he looks small and cute, but he is full of absolute rAge dude. i would be the one to egg him on and he would unleash a fuckin kraken. we’re the same height, so he has good access to important and easily damageable parts of my body. i would never even attempt. thank you, good night

THE8 - he can do flips and shit i am nOt going to even joke around with this. he would end me before we even started fighting by insulting my lack of style and overall personality??? he would make me lose my shit and i sTILL would risk it all for him. he holds that kind of power. i only pray to minghao

DINO - highkey same thing as everyone else in this category. they look cute and fluffy, but they’re hiding a beAST under all of that. he could trick me by acting defenseless and giving me the upper hand and i would then wake up in a hospital not remembering anything from 5 years ago. no, no, no, i will not play with my life like that

thank you for coming to my tedxtalk. i will be hosting a cookout with all of the members to see if my predictions are true and you’re all invited. byom (bring your own medkit) 😌✨

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iamknicole · 5 years

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Heartbreak Hotel Pt. 2

Bloodline Family Series

Koda needed to go home. He couldn't be in Miami right now. No matter how juvenile it sounded he wanted his parents, he wanted them to tell him it would be okay and how he could fix it so it wouldn't hurt anymore. When he got in the house Roman was running around with Messiah and Micah, laughing and smiling. Seeing it brought a small smile to his face. His little brothers noticed him and ran straight for him, attacking his legs. Koda picked them both up kissing their cheeks.

"Brody, you home!" Micah squealed happily.

"We fight?" Messiah asked.

Roman approached his boys, pulling the three year olds from Koda's arms putting them on the floor. He ignored their pouting and squatted to their level.

"It's naptime. You guys go on upstairs, get your sister and get in me and Mommy's bed. Good deal?" He asked.

"Him stay?" Messiah asked looking at Koda, who nodded.

"I'm not leavin. I'll be here a few days, SiSi." (like sigh)

Koda followed Roman to his man cave after the boys had gone upstairs. Both men sat on the large sofa.

"What's botherin you, Ko?"

Koda shook his head then rubbed at his eyes. "Nothin, I'm good."

"Come on now, son." Roman said squeezing his shoulder. "I know you better than that. Your eyes are red and misty, your face is red and your hair isn't done. So I'll ask again, what's botherin you?"

Koda opened his mouth but nothing came out. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead he cried, he cried like he had done the past two days whenever he was alone. He felt this pain was unbearable. Roman watched his oldest for a second, it had been a while since he'd seen him cry like this.

"What's goin on, son? What happened?" Roman asked.

"It's Parker, Pop," he explained through his sobbing.

Roman started to worry, he thought the worst.

"What about her? Is she pregnant? Did something happen to her, Ko?"He nodded, holding his head down. "What are you nodding to?"

Koda looked up at his dad trying to hold back the rest of his tears. When he opened his mouth this time, Kandice walked in. She saw him crying and rushed to sit beside him, pulling his head to her chest.

"What's wrong with my baby, Roman? What did you do?"

Laughing a little, Roman shook his head at his wife. Whenever any of their kids were crying she asked that question. It didn't matter if they both entered together she still asked. "I didn't do anything to your baby, Kandi. He was gonna tell me but he started crying."

Koda sat up, out of her hold, trying to slow down the tears. His head was starting to hurt and he didn't want to deal with that. "Friday after my game she wanted me to go to this party with her," he started slowly. "We won and I usually go to whatever after party but I played all four quarters, I was tired. But she went."

Kandice sucked her teeth at him. "Boy, you better not be crying cause she went to a party without you."

Roman glared at his wife, "Hush, Kandi. Let him finish."

"Fine, fine," she said putting her hands up. "Go head, Ko."

Koda scratched his growing beard. "She came over Sunday and I guess that's when Eli and Lo found out and showed it to me."

"Showed you what," Roman asked.Koda couldn't look at either of his parents.

"She was mad at me for not goin with her so she," he paused feeling his anger and more tears starting to rise. Kandice rubbed his back and Roman told him to go on.

"She fu- had sex with these dudes that play for Auburn on Instagram live."

"She what?" Kandice yelled making Koda jump.

"I asked her and she just kept saying she was sorry, over and over. But that don't fix this shit," he cried putting his head down.

Roman nodded his head at Kandice for her to leave them. She didn't want to go but she knew it would be better for Koda if she did. Once she was out of the room and in the kitchen, she called Apryl and Trinity to vent while Koda continued to vent to Roman.

"I treated her exactly how you taught me, Pop. I did what I was supposed to do and she did that."

"You did what you were supposed to do, Koda. You can't control what someone else does."

"I love her, she said she loved me too. I don't go to one party and that's what she does," he yelled out of frustration. "Then she came straight to the apartment after the party and kissed me in my mouth."

Roman didn't want to ask but he knew he needed to.

"Did yall have sex that night?" Koda nodded making him sigh. "You used a hat?"

"Yeah. She told me not to, we almost didn't cause she got mad about me wearing one. Now I know why." He said bitterly.

That made Roman happy. His son had listened to something.

"What about oral?"

"She did. I didn't," Koda shrugged sitting back, "It was late. I ain't want her to wake E and Lo up."

While Roman continued to calm Koda down, Kandice was trying to calm her nerves on the phone. Apryl was playing devil's advocate and Trinity was the peace maker.

"I say you grab your bat, Kandi. I'll bring my knife and Trin will bring her taser. It'll be a nice lil trip to Miami."

"No," Trinity chastised, "We're not jumping that lil girl. That's not gonna make him feel any better."

"Hell, it'll make us feel a whole lot better."

"No, Apryl."

Kandice laughed. "Where was this energy when that girl broke Eli's heart? We had to barricade you in the house tp keep you from jumping on that girl."

"I don't recall," Trinity laughed.

Roman had pretty much calmed his son down and gotten him to sit back down. He'd thrown his arm around Koda squeezing his shoulder lovingly.

"Look, I'm not gonna tell you that this hurt is gonna go away cause its not. One day it just won't hurt as bad. And I won't tell you that you'll forget about it cause you won't. But I will say," Roman spoke softly, "One day you'll think about this and be thankful. You'll realize there was a reason for this."

Koda nodded listening to his dad.

"But dont let this pain just continue to hurt you. You gotta learn from it."

"Learn what?" Koda asked looking up.

"Later on when you're thinking about this you'll remember things that happened that didn't add up, that there were red flags for you and you'll learn not to ignore those things. You'll realize what you do6nt like in a partner and what you do. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thanks, Pops. I love you"

Koda loved the bond he had with his dad. There was nothing else in his life like it. Eli and Milo are his best friends but his dad was his first best friend.

Roman pulled his son into a hug, squeezing him tight. He kissed his head before letting go. "I love you too, Ko. Go share some of that love with ya mama before she gets jealous."

Laughing, Koda got up to go to the kitchen. When he got to the kitchen Kandice hurried off the phone and engulfed him in a big hug when he was close enough. Even though he's a foot and some inches taller than her, she still cradled him like she did when he was a baby. She hugged him tight, holding back tears, until he pulled away.

"Aight, ma. I gotta stop or Ima cry again."

Kandice laughed a little, happy to see him in better spirits.

"I'm sorry. Yall know I don't play about my babies so I had to love on you."

"I know, Ma. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Koda?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered softly. He leaned against the island with his hands pushed into the pockets of his sweat pants.

"Don't let one person ruin your mood. You hold your head up like the man that you are. This hurts now but you'll be given something much better."

Koda nodded listening to his mama talk.

"When you get back to that campus, I want you to hold your head up, put you some clothes on and do your hair. You be the man me and your Daddy raised you to be. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am. Thank y'all. I had to come home, I couldn't stay there like this."

Kandice nodded, she understood.

"Did Milo and Eli help?"

"Yeah, they tried but this wasn't something they could really help with. I needed you and Pops."

Kandice went to Koda putting her hands on his face. Leaning up on her toes and pulling his head down she kissed his forehead and whispered a prayer over him.

"I love you, Mama." He admitted softly.

"I love you too, baby boy. Always and forever."

A few days later, Koda was back on campus. He needed the break away from everything, it did him good. By the time he got back, everyone had found out what Parker did to Koda. They were hard on her. Everyone knew how well he treated her and took care of her so they thought it was stupid of her to cheat on Koda the way she did. Girls were constantly trying to steal Koda from Parker only to find out how faithful and committed to Parker he was.

Eli and Milo had finally gotten him to come to a house party with them. He did what his mama told him to do. He got dressed, did his hair and got himself together.

As the cousins walked into the house party, a girl bumped into Koda. He caught her around her waist before she could fall to the floor. When he opened his mouth to apologize, she stopped him.

"Don't," she smiled, "It was my fault. I'm clumsy."

"But still," Koda said still holding onto her, "You aight?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I promise."

"Aight then, sweetheart. You be careful." He nodded letting her go

"I'll try."

She laughed as she walked off. Koda watched her until Eli smacked his arm playfully.

"My boy is back!"

The laughing cousins moved quickly through the party to the kitchen. Milo grabbed them each a beer and passed them to his cousins.

"Here, here," Milo laughed raising his beer, "To our cousin. Haven't been single but a week and half and already got girls tripping over him!"

#bloodline family series #roman & Kandice #ro & Kandice #Koda #koda reigns #Koda & Tia #Eli #Milo

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ydolanssss · 5 years

Text

Attitude G.D

Okay first smut, probably ass but oh well

Grayson x black reader

Warning: oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up kids)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Ethan where's y/n?"

"i don't know I think shes in your room"

For some reason y/n has been acting wierd lately, she dosent come out of the house much. Shes either in my room or hers but I'm worried about her.

"hey y/n you-" I walked in and she on my bed. Naked. Shes touching herself, and whispering my name. They're diving so deep in her, I shouldn't be watching but she's just so beautiful, her thighs, her brown skin, her pussy is so wet. Just for me. I've thought about her that way but I thought I didn't have a chance, guess I was wrong.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. I've been more distant because I don't want to catch feelings, I'm sure it's just lust but I don't know, but it needs to fucking stop he's my best friend, I don't want to ruin the friendship, I feel so dirty touching myself in his room while he's home. He could catch me but I kind of want him to.

"ugh fuck gray please"

"please what mama?"

I let out a yell, and run into the bathroom and close the door.

"Damn gray! Oh my God I'm so sorry! I-i didn't mean to-"

"Hey it's okay, come out here I got a shirt for you." He hands it to you through a crack of the door. It's his black button up. It comes right below your ass. You walk out hiding you face behind your braids.

"G-gray, I'm sorry I was- um I ain't gon front I've been thinking bout you in that kinda way and I just- ugh I'm so sorry"

He walks up to you and brushes you braids behind you and puts his hand on the side of your neck

"hey, hey, it's okay. I've been thinking about you in that kinda way too."

He smirks when he sees your leg tighten. He moves his hand to the top of your ass and he pulls you closer. Your breath hitches realizing how close your faces were.

"H-have you really?, Like that kinda way or like something else because it would make more sense if it was a different kinda way ya know because like you probably don't want me like that and-" you stop rambling because you hear Grayson laughing, catching an attitude you push him off of you and cross your arms.

"Excuse me! I'm over here being real with you and you fucking laughing at me!"

He stops laughing, and looks at your short frame because he's like a whole foot taller than you, absolutely loving you in his clothes.

"Hey you better chill with that lil attitude girl."

"Make me." You immediately realize what you just said, and you don't regret it.

He backs you into a wall on hand above your head one around your waist pulling you close to him.

"I'll make you alright"

He grabs you from under your thighs and presses you against the wall. Finally he kisses you, it rough but his lips are soft. You moan into the kiss, he releases your lips and starts attacking your neck, you grab his hair pulling on it, his hands make it to your ass and he carries over to his bed and he lays you down.

Both of his forearms by your head "Did you cum earlier? When I came in?"

You look up at him and bite you lip and shake your head "nuh-uh".

"How about I go down on you mama, huh? You want that? I know I do."

"yes gray, please"

"that's not my name baby"

"daddy, please"

"of course, mama." He starts to unbutton the shirt and leaves kisses down the valley of your breasts. "So fucking pretty." He grabs your tits and sucks on one of your nipples.

"these fucking tits" he shakes the other in his hand watching it jiggle.

"mmm daddy, please"

"patience baby"

He's continues, skipping past your pussy instead starting at your thigh leaving marks all over each one. He finally reaches where you need him most, he take two fingers and opens up your lips.

"so wet, so pretty, all for me huh?, Who's pussy is this?

"yours daddy, all yours."

"Damn straight"

Licks a bold strip up you pussy and circles the tip of it around you clit. "ughhhhhhh, fuck yes".

His fingers plung into you and curl right onto your g-spot while his mouth sucks and bites on you clit. Your hand fly to his hair and thighs slam around his head. He uses his other hand and spreads them open.

"keep 'em spread mama" the vibrations from his voice travel through you causing your thighs to start shaking.

"God, fuck!! Oh my God I'm so close daddy! Yes, yes!". You lift up off of the bed, squirting into his face, thighs shaking, he sucks a little more and pumps his fingers to ride out your high, drinking all that you gave him.

"fuck you taste so damn good, so tight too, I don't know I'll fit." Your eyes widen. 'damn is he really that big'

"yes, I am" you realize you ended up say it out loud.

"oh shit okay"

He strips himself of his pants and lines up at you entrance.

"you ready mama?"

"as ready as I'll ever be"

He slides in all the way, balls deep inside of you, you both moan simultaneously.

"god your so fucking tight mama" he starts moving, you can feel him in your guts.

"daddy,your so deep fuck"

"where do you feel me?"

"in my tummy"

"oh yea, that's where I'm gonna cum too, deep, deep inside of you. I'm gonna make you my babymama"

That statement honestly dosent scare you. He starts ramming his dick inside of you slamming against your cervics you already know you will not be able to walk tomorrow. You claw down his back, his face in your neck, moaning and grunting.

"ugh fuck daddy!" You moan right up against his ear which drives him fucking nuts, he pulls out, and you whine at the feeling of emptiness, he pulls you to the end of the bed and puts both legs on one of his shoulders, and props his right foot on the bed and slams back into you making you shout at the roughness, wet sounds coming from you two bounce of the wall along with your moans.

"ugh god, daddy I'm so close!"

"Me to baby, hold it for me okay"

"god I cant!"

"you can and you will"

His voice makes you clench and that bring him to his climax, few more hard thrusts, his hips stutter and he's cumming deep inside you just like he said, "fuuuuck yes, baby."

After he's done he pulls out, when some of his cum spills out he quick to finger it back into you causing you to whimper a little more. He falls down beside you and pulls you close.

"Y/n, d-do you, a-are you...you don't have to have my kids, i-i want you to but like I said it because I was in the moment and everything because I really care about you, and i don't know I might be moving to fast maybe-ish kinda-".

Now it's your time to laugh at him and his nervous rambling.

"gray it's okay, it's okay. I'll have your kids I don't know why but I want too."

He's smiling like a kid who just got his favorite toy, "You wanna be my babymama? For real?". "Yes gray I'll be your babymama."

He smothers you in kisses but ends up stopping due to a slamming door. Ethan.

"GRAY, WTF YOU GO TO LOOK FOR Y/N AND NEXT THIS I KNOW SHE YELLING AND YOUR ABOUT TO BE A DAD?!"

"Ethan bro, one: stop yelling, two: she wasn't yelling she was screaming," which results in you slapping him on the chest already thoroughly embarrassed, all he does is laugh "and third yes I'm gonna be a dad, and your gonna be an uncle, and y/n's gonna be a mom. Isn't that great??"

Ethan still standing at the doorway jaw on the floor. "What the fuck ever, man congratulations." You end up falling asleep right after because you are worn the fuck out for obvious reasons.

*THIS WAS ASS*

*IM SORRY I TRIED*

#grayson bailey dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson x black reader #dolanpoc #smut #dolan twins #ethan dolan #grayson dolan fanfic

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fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction · 5 years

Text

Circus Baby’s Day Guard

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza and Parties underwent a re-branding after Fazbear Entertainment ‘dissolved’. Years later a new security guard is hired to help out. One shift brings up problems he hadn’t anticipated....

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"Does it count as a bribe if the person you're giving money to in order to avoid some nasty shit happening is your own mom?"

Blinking rapidly as he came out of his thoughts, the security guard for Circus Baby's Pizza and Parties looked down at the young teen sitting beside him at one of the dining room tables. The boy fiddled with a slice of pizza, one of the few he had on his plate for a snack, then looked back up at the guard, mouth set in a thin line while he waited for an answer.

"Dude, I dunno. It's keeping her off our backs for now so we just gotta deal with it," the guard muttered back, rolling his eyes before resuming scanning the rest of the dining room to be sure everything was okay.

Parents sat at long tables with kids, munching on pizza and other treats while still more children played games or on the indoor play equipment. Several were gathered at the animatronic stage, dancing along in that uncoordinated way as Circus Baby sang for them, performing light and quick dance steps of her own in flashy twirls. The music from the Fazband drifted over the customers, interspersed with the sounds of happy squeals and laughter.

"Any new games come in lately?" the boy asked suddenly and the guard looked down at him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Still the same batch, but I think boss lady got Midnight Motorist fixed if you wanna give racing a go," he said and then gestured towards the pizza on his plate. "Not hungry?"

"Yeah, I am! I'm gonna take it with me to the game so I can eat and play." The boy smirked, a sharp smile crossing his face. "I can handle a dumb video game with just one hand. Skills~!" The guard let out a few chuckles that threatened to grow louder before muffling himself with his hand, smile wide behind it.

"You're a real punk. You know you're not supposed to take food with you to the games, right?" he pointed out, an eyebrow raised teasingly. The teen huffed and rolled his eyes, getting up with the plate anyway.

"I got family on staff, don't I?" he taunted, mirroring the raised eyebrow and the guard just laughed again, shaking his head.

"Fine, fine. But don't let boss lady catch you or she'll give both of us an earful!" he called out as the boy headed over to the rows of games.

"It's fine! She likes me best~!"

The guard rolled his eyes and decided to walk the floor, monitoring the scampering children that crowded the pizzeria. Different pizzas with their toppings and sauces had smells drifting about that he picked up on, and he sniffed at the air with all the wariness of a bloodhound seeking out unknown scents in the mix. Garlic and cheese made his mouth water and he had a quick flash of regret that he didn't swipe a slice off the teen's plate for a snack. He shook it off mentally and resumed observing the room, eyes sweeping over people and ticking off behaviors into checklists of what was socially acceptable and what could need additional tracking.

It didn't take him long to make his rounds and he returned to the games section in time to see the teen he'd left behind get shoved away from the racing game by a taller teen.

"Girls suck at video games! Just run back home and play with your dolls!" the brat spat out.

"The fuck did you just call me, you fucking piece of shit?!" the smaller teen snapped back, getting back to his feet.

"I'm telling on you!" The brat's face lit up at the guard storming over to them, "Hey! Mr. Guard! This chick was messing with the games and she had food here and said a bunch of swear words…!"

"I got cameras on you assaulting my brother, you lil shit. You're lucky I don't take you out to the back alley and break every one of your shit-stained fingers," the guard hissed softly into the other teen's ear, leaning close into the startled brat's personal space. "You get your high pushing around anyone smaller than you, but your own body's not growing enough to keep up with everyone else. In a year, you'll be left behind, a tiny reminder in the eyes of those you've harassed and there's not enough size to you to back up your bark. You'll get your highs off pain meds that'll need to get pumped into you once all your old victims are done getting their pound of flesh from you." The brat whimpered at him, eyes wide as he pulled back just enough to lock their gazes together, his own eyes searing coldly into the teen. "Why don't you take your piss-laden ass out the door and don't ever fucking step foot in here again? Trust me, you'll live a much longer and happier life if you never cross my watch again."

The acrid smell of fresh urine wafted past him as the teen fled in terror and the guard stood with a disgusted expression, stepping back from the dark stain on the carpet as the boy stepped up to him and tugged a bit on his sleeve.

"Sorry you had to do that," he mumbled guiltily and the guard shook his head.

"Are you okay?" he asked and the teen shrugged a shoulder, looking up as the pizzeria owner walked briskly towards them.

"I'm fine. Would've kicked his ass if you hadn't shown up," he said softly.

"Mister Herrera, mind explaining to me why I just had a family of three bolt out of here screaming about intimidation and bodily threats?" Meera asked, one eyebrow raised as she folded her arms over her chest, head tilting as she waited for an answer.

"Hey, boss lady," the guard greeted with a sheepish grin, lifting a hand to wave at her as his brother rolled his eyes. "Cameras caught it but basically that bitch ass punk pushed my lil bro and tried to pick a fight. It's his third strike; caught him shoving around other kids on a couple other visits in the past, trying to bully 'em into giving up their tickets."

Meera's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glower flickering over her face before it smoothed back out to a frown. Her gaze dropped down to the teen beside him and looked him over quickly. "You alright? You can press charges if you want. I'll call the police for you," she said softly. The teen shook his head.

"I've had worse happen. No biggie. But I could use a fresh plate since that asshole flipped mine." He gave his best puppy-eyed expression and small, hopeful smile at her scowl.

"Fine, but no taking it to the games section! The carpet's harder to clean than tile," Meera pointed out and wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, speaking of clean up, stay out of here for now. Gotta get the janitor to come out and wet vacuum here. God, next time, don't scare kids into pissing themselves!"

Mr. Herrera rubbed at his head, still sheepishly grinning. "Eh, no promises?" he chuckled as he and the teen both moved away to an empty dining table, leaving Meera to pull out the barrier ropes and set them up around the Midnight Motorist game.

"This would be easier if I could get a job too. Then I wouldn't have to be here for your whole shift," his brother grumbled, flopping down into his seat with a pout.

"You're underage. What are you gonna do? Open a lemonade stand?" Herrera asked with a grin as the teen grimaced. "Not like you can get paid to play video games all day." He missed the thoughtful expression that came over his brother's face as he turned his attention toward Circus Baby, the animatronic walking up to them with a platter balanced perfect in one hand, plate of fresh pizza and tall glass of soda ready to be served. "Hey, Baby, performance done for the hour?"

"It was cut a bit short due to… reasons," she said simply, green eyes shifting to look over at him, judging him over her eternal wide smile. Herrera smiled back, nervous and wide and uncertain. "Not bad. I probably would have done the same if I'd caught the asshole myself." She set the plate and glass down in front of the teen, who dove into the food eagerly. "Everything okay? Do you need anything else?" she asked him.

The boy waved her off, food shoved into his mouth as he kept his eyes down on the plate. Baby straightened with sigh and looked back over at the guard. Giving him a short nod, she tucked the platter under one arm and walked away, heels clicking softly over the tile of the dining room floor.

"You know she's trying." Herrera said after a few moments passed. The teen gulped down some of his drink then wiped the sleeve of his hoodie over his mouth.

"He's still an asshole," he replied and grinned up at him. "Besides, I got you, don't I?"

Herrera looked at him, head tilted, as he considered their situation. He smiled again, reaching out to ruffle his brother's hair. "Yeah. We got each other's backs," he agreed.

"And I'm pretty sure I can get paid to play video games."

"Eat your fucking food, punk."

END

#fnaf #pre-vr arc #vr protags #circus baby #meera cobett #fanfiction #pizzeria simulator #fnaf: help wanted

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lemonscreativeworld · 5 years

Text

Dynamic Duo

It appears that battle forges brotherhoods.

A/N: This is for @satanasss666 and their Apprentice, Sven! Who is literally the most handsome fan Apprentice I have ever seen, like dayum.

Sven grumbled as he jumped and leapt from buildings and poles, angry about the whole situation.

Another fight with the prissy little new meat Asra had brought in that made the bastard storm out. Asra hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, hoping that his two apprentices would work it out for themselves. But apparently not; Widdle Aneirin got his silks in a twist and bounced to go pout.

Just because Sven didn’t feel intimidated by the posh punk. The bastard had been nothing less than an annoying thorn in his side. Always telling him that he shouldn’t be so this or as much of that. Everything Sven did or said was met with sanctimonious criticism that rubbed him the wrong way. It took all of his will-power not to snap his stupid neck.

He clearly remembered when Asra brought him in. Something about their parents being old friends or whatever. He was wearing some ridiculously high quality clothes, with little silk ribbons attached to golden wrist and arm bands. Everything was green and gold with this guy. Not to mention he wore make-up; not that was inherently a bad thing. It was just the fact that even his make-up was gold. He also chose to talk ‘properly’ and ‘with good diction’. It just sounded so stupid to Sven and forced. No one should have that clean of a mouth.

Either way, they got along like oil and fire, and Asra was the tired firefighter trying to keep the peace. He didn’t even know what set Aneirin off so badly this time, just that they were screaming and suddenly he huffed right out of the door. It took a few shocked moments for the other two to realize what happened. Then, they had their own heated exchange as Asra almost demanded Sven go after him to apologize to him. Which was stupid and dumb and he didn’t want to. But Asra was adamant and after several withering looks, he hopped his happy ass out of the door and towards finding him.

The fight had been early in the afternoon and it was just now starting to become dusk. He wondered if he should just head back to the shop now, as he had searched across most of the usual places. The Market, the Town Square, the Community Theater…even that frilly restaurant Aneirin likes to go to sometimes. But there was neither hide nor hair of this little punk and Sven was absolutely done with it all.

He turned to go back to the shop when a familiar looking white creature ran up towards him. The fat little weasel’s fur was dirty and he looked scared. “Dumpling?” He knelt to allow the terrified creature into his arms. Aneirin was an asshole, but Dumpling was a treasure. He always wanted to cuddle up to Sven and he was just so stupidly sweet that there was no way he could hate him.

He was panting heavily and made panicked little squeaking noises that Sven had never heard before. There was a moment of confusion as he wondered why Aneirin would let his most beloved familiar just roam around the streets. It was absolutely unthinkable.

The weasel squeaked again and looked away, towards the Coliseum. He seemed to frantically gesture there, almost as if he wants Sven to go there. Something must be happening and with that though, he tucks Dumpling into one of his pouches and races across town with a fire under his feet. It didn’t take long for him to get to the Coliseum, as he seemed to know the way by heart. Once there, he rushed inside to look for Aneirin but he didn’t have to look very far.

In the center, he could see a large group of men surrounding a single man, as if they were accosting him. The flash of green and gold caught his eye and as he looked harder, he could see that it truly was Aneirin.

“Hey! Iri!” He called out, getting everyone’s attention. “What the fuck?!” Sven started walking towards them, and everyone noticed his limp.

The biggest man, probably the leader, sneered at him. “What’s this, your boyfriend?” His voice was full of condescension. “You’re fucking a crippled? And you won’t fuck us?” He turns to give Aneirin an angry look, which Aneirin returned. He didn’t look scared or intimidated and Sven had to give him credit; the men surrounding him were at least a foot taller than him and way more muscled.

But the term crippled made his blood boil. “I’m not crippled enough to beat all of your asses, you son of bitch!” He hollers, already unsheathing Gertrude and Delilah.

Aneirin seems unimpressed by all of this. “He is not anything near my lover, you brainless brute. But he is my fellow and I suggest you leave before we have to get physical with you.” He huffs, picking up a bag and beginning to walk away. “Of course, I cannot be held accountable for him slicing off your foot for using such vulgar terms for a disabled man but-” He squawked indignantly when the leader grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, holding him close to the other man’s body.

The leader starts feeling him up, despite Aneirin’s protests. “You think we’re scared of a little crippled? You got big swords, I got an even bigger one, boy!” He started laughing until he felt up Aneirin’s chest and made a quizzical noise. “What…?” The young magician just froze. “You got tits?! You’re a little woman?!”

The smaller man just ripped himself away, storming over to a surprised Sven, his face on fire. There were catcalls and vulgar terms being thrown at Aneirin now, all having to do with his supposedly being a woman. The men were following them and soon enough, they were surrounded.

“Shite.” Sven cursed, looking at all of them. There was about fifteen or twenty of them. He didn’t think he could take them all but he’d never say that. “Just stay behind me, Iri, I’ll protect-”

He was cut off by a crackling sound and the scent of ozone in the air. There was a faint golden glow behind him and he just managed to see Aneirin holding out a rapier, the blade made of golden lightning. Another one formed in his hand and there was a deep pitch to his voice, filled with dark anger. “I’m going to kill this motherfucker.” He snarled, referring to the leader, and Sven felt his eyes widen.

The men seemed taken aback by this but the leader only smiled. “Let’s get ‘em, men!” He took out his own greatsword and the others, emboldened by their leader’s confidence, took out their own weapons.

Sven stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, before he smirked. “Bring it on, bitches!”

“Prepare for the storm!”

The battle was quick but intense. While Sven was built for power and strength, Aneirin was built for speed and agility. Whenever one of the bastards would attack, Aneirin would go in for a few quick disarming strikes before Sven would wreck their shit. His blades were made to shock and disorient, but not to kill. Sven held no reservations and though that wasn’t the purpose of this fight, he couldn’t help the one or two bodies he left in his wake.

Finally, it was just the leader; all of his men were groaning on the ground, some of them twitching. Sven made a move to attack him, but was held back by Aneirin. “I said I was going to kill him.” He dropped his rapiers and the blades disappeared.

The leader, obviously worn down and out of his league, smirked. “You gonna kill me with no weapons? You must be one dumb bitch.”

Aneirin didn’t say a word, just staring at the larger man. With a fluid motion, he swept back the hair hiding his left eye and Sven gaped. The eye had two deep, violent looking scars going from his forehead to his cheekbone, the eye a much lighter gold than his other eye. Suddenly, small bolts of lightning started forming around his eye, growing in power and intensity until his whole eye was covered. Golden light started forming in his hand and the leader took a step back.

“W-Wait, what the fuck?!” He shouted, fear now starting to overtake him.

It would be his last words as Aneirin lifted his hand to the sky, where storm clouds suddenly started forming. In a flash of golden light, lightning struck the leader no less than three times, each time more intense than the last.

Once all was said and done, the leader was nothing more than a charred corpse, unrecognizable. The power around Aneirin’s eye vanished and he fixed his hair to cover his eye again.

Sven had just stood there, dumbfounded the whole time. He was impressed by the display and he jumped when Aneirin spoke. “Did Dumpling come find you?” He asked, still fixing his hair.

“Uh…” Was Sven’s only response.

Suddenly, said weasel jumped out of Sven’s pouch, where he had been the whole time. He rushed over to Aneirin and the man scooped up his baby. “Oh my darling!” He cooed, gently brushing him off. “You are absolutely filthy! I am so sorry to have made you go through all of that, my sweet baby boy!”

The fat creature was soaking up the attention and it brought Sven out of his daze. “What the fuck!” He yelled. “Was that!?” He gestured to the leader. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Aneirin just looked at him with a small smirk. “You never asked.” Was his simple answer.

“Well…you got me there.”

He laughed, something sweet and tinkling. But then the other apprentice got a little bit serious. “Thank you, Sven, for coming to my rescue. I would have been quite fine by myself, probably, but having you to help was a great relief to me.” He looked away, blushing slightly. “I apologize for the way I have acted towards you. It was unfair and undignified to treat you with such immediate disrespect.”

That was unexpected. Sven blinked, putting away his swords. “Well…” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “I guess I could try to be a lil’ more friendly, if you’re gonna apologize.”

Aneirin gave him a genuine smile and the soft look in his eyes made Sven blush. “I would like that, darling.” And the pet name, while not unusual for Aneirin, was weird being directed at him.

“Don’t get used to it.” He said and there was that laugh again.

“I believe we should go back, yes? Shall I get a cart for you to ride in?” He asked, and Sven wanted to bite a no but after everything that happened…

“Whatever you wanna do.”

Another smile. “Excellent.” He started out of the Coliseum and before he got too far, he turned around to look at him. “Sven, you know…” Sven looked up at Aneirin, who had a wry look in his eyes. “You made a very dashing figure while we were fighting. You would be a very handsome hero in a romance tale.” With that, he winked at the other apprentice and skipped out of earshot.

Needless to say, Sven just went his own way home.

#the arcana #the arcana mystic romance #the arcana apprentice #the arcana fan apprentice #apprentice aneirin #apprentice sven #satanasss666 #is it too much for me to call sven a snacc?#Coz he is #And im lov him

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thedeadwalks · 6 years

Text

My Savior (20)

Summary: Awoken one morning to noises outside, the reader pushes Negan to take a look. Reluctantly he does, only to find it’s not what he expected…

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Warnings: DDLG relationship, Daddy Negan, Daddy Negan’s language

Word Count: 1,197

A/N: this is it! the last chapter of the first part of my savior! part two is going to take a fairly different turn, as we see Negan becoming the leader of the saviors, the rise of the sanctuary, and baby’s own development (I have big plans for her!). So, thank you all for sticking with me this far, and... enjoy!

Chapter Twenty: The Others

Previous Chapter: New Faces

“When you get to the junction it’s the first turn left, it’s not that far away from here”

“What the fuck were you two doing so far out here if you had a safe fucking place?”

You had been on the road for nearly twenty minutes now, relaxing back in your seat as you listened to their conversation. Dwight, you had learnt, was married to the woman, Sherry. They had found shelter in their local community church, just a street or two from their house, only a day after the outbreak had initially started. There they had taken in other survivors, including a family with two young children, a few teenagers, and an older couple. They had taken turns keeping watch out of an upstairs window, waiting and hoping for others to join them, praying that none of the infected would realise they were there.

“We came out, looking for others ya know, the car run out of gas, and then it only got worse from then on. Just, just glad you both found us when you did”, you heard him sniff then, and it sounded like he was starting to cry, but doing his best not to in front of you both. “If you hadn’t, I’m not sure— not sure she would make it”

You turned to him then, in time to see him rub the water from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Reaching your hand out, you gently touched the edge of his knee, pulling back after just a second. He looked up at you then, his eyes still glassed over, red around the edges, and you gave the most sympathetic smile you could, before you reassured him.

“It’s gonna be fine Dwight, Sherry’s gonna be fine, I promise, you said you had a nurse there didn’t you?”

He nodded at that, sniffing again, before he mumbled out an unconvincing agreement. He looked out the window next to him then, voicing another direction to Negan.

The whole street was shrouded in darkness, making the dim lights of the car seem even brighter. Like most other streets you had seen earlier today, there were cars left abandoned on the road, making Negan drive even slower as he did his best to avoid hitting them.

You were sat upright in your seat, back to looking out the front window. Eager to get to this safe place, eager to see if what Dwight had told you really was true. According to his directions from the backseat you were only a street away now, with less than five minutes before you arrived.

- -

The car slowed even more, until it came to a quiet stop. Two barred gates who were lit up by the headlights of the car, and you could see a small driveway through the gaps, the church building looked as derelict as the rest of the street as you studied it, what if he’s lying? What if there is no group?

The engine cut off then, silence filling the air and the light fading from in front of you. You looked at Negan, now relying on the moonlight to see him, as he reached for your hand, picking it up and kissing the back. Then you heard Dwight speak, his voice full of nerves.

“I’ll go in first, so they know it’s us—“

“Sure thing kid”, came the interruption from Negan, his tone making it obvious that he was not playing games, “make it quick so your lil’ lady doesn’t bleed all over my seats yeah?”

You could cut the atmosphere with a knife, the tension suddenly sky-high between the pair, and the excitement you had about joining a group was now mixed with a nervous reluctance. Through the darkness you could see the man in the back’s unease, not quite sure how to react to Negan’s comment, and with a quick glance at his wife’s unconscious form, deciding on mumbling out a “yeah” as he exited the car.

When he came in front of the car you felt Negan’s hand tighten around yours. He brought it back to his mouth again, kissing the back, and then the palm, before he spoke, his voice low and deep.

“Baby look, I don’t know why yet but I don’t trust this fucker, so I want you to stay near me alright? We don’t know who these people are, and they could be fucking dangerous, so you stick with me yeah”, he paused then to press his lips against your fingers, kissing your palm again before he continued, “I’m gonna keep you safe darling”

You were both brought out of the moment by the movement of Dwight coming back. This time he had a man in tow, and you couldn’t look away from the gun strapped across him.

Negan opened his door first, rounding to your side, before they opened the back door, Dwight pulling the still-unconscious woman from the seat, grunting as he struggled to pick her up, before doing his best to get back to the building.

Your door opened then, and you got out to stand next to Negan, clutching his hand for support. The man with the gun was stood a foot or so in front of you, now looking you both over, before he spoke, starting his way back to the building as he did so.

“‘Come with me, the boss will want to meet you first”

You felt Negan’s hand squeeze around yours, before he followed the man.

As you got closer to the building you could see the dim orange light seeping through the hastily boarded-up windows, before the man in front pushed open the door, holding it open for you both to enter. Negan went in first, his hand still firmly wrapped around yours, as he pulled you gently along behind him. When you were in you heard the door close behind you, the man now coming to stand in front of you both again.

You could see him better now, with the help of the candlelight. He looked around your age, only a little shorter than Negan as he stood there. His dark hair was a mess, red patches underlined his eyes and his hands were gripping onto the gun in front of him as you noticed him staring at the bat hanging from Negan’s hand. Bringing you out of your observation, his voice sounded through the small hallway room, seemingly more confident than he looked.

“Stay here, I’ll go get him”, he said before he turned to leave through the doorway next to him. You were about to speak, when less than a minute later the doorway opened back up. The armed man walked back through, this time followed by another. The man behind him was taller, and older. His face was sporting a moustache and a short beard, his hair long but receding. A grin was spread across his face as he looked you both over, before he held his hand up for Negan to shake, then you, introducing himself in a fairly cheerful voice.

“Great to meet you both, our newest additions! I’m Simon, the one in charge here, unofficially of course”

—

Next Chapter: Safe Haven

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taeverie · 7 years

Text

Until Next Time—03 [m]

Synopsis: You are finally meeting Jimin in person after months—but it doesn’t go entirely as planned

Pairing: Jimin x Reader // gaming au, long distance lovers au

Genre: Smut, a lil’ fluff

Word Count: 7.5k

Parts: 01 || 02 || 03

Includes: roadhead, oral, spanking, dom jimin, multiple orgasms, nipple play

A/N: happy!! holidays!! here’s the final installment, haha

The flight to Jimin’s city is stuffy, almost like a claustrophobic comfort within the confinement of the aircraft. Every minute that passes only fuels your excitement and anticipation; after all, the long awaited day has finally arrived.

You are finally meeting your boyfriend, Jimin, in person after many arduous months of skype sex and endless longing.

When the plane lands you scurry off as quickly as you can, bumping into a couple of passerbys to retrieve your luggage at the reclaim. Amidst frantically weaving your way through the crowd you slip out your phone, impatient to get cell service but once you do, you dial your boyfriend’s number. Though, he beats you to it.

“It’s nine in the morning, are you here yet?” he asks once you answer the call.

Your stomach flutters once you hear his welcoming voice, aware that he is equally excited as you are for this very moment. “It’s only a quarter before nine, and yes—” you grab onto your baggage from the conveyer— “I’m here!”

You push through the sea of people, apologies spilling from your lips for doing so, and reach the exit. Your head turns every which way in a desperate search for Jimin, unable to contain your exhilaration.

“I don’t see you!” you comment and walk closer to the edge of the sidewalk.

“Wait, you’re here already? I’m still driving.” He chuckles.

You smile to yourself, anticipation breaching. “This would have happened two months ago if you let me sleep that one night.”

“Hey!” He replies, defensive, “That means nothing. We both had the best orgasm of our life that night and—”

“—Jimin!” you snap him back to his senses. “Pay attention to the road.”

“I’m on speaker,” he informs; you can practically hear the quirk of his lips. “And close.”

You raise an eyebrow, eyes scanning the perimeter one last time. “Are you? Where?”

You wait a few seconds for him to respond, but there is nothing but silence on the other line. Bringing the device away from your face, you find your home screen, indicating that Jimin has ended the call.

Ready to fret, you feel a pair of gentle hands grasp your shoulders, swiveling you around. “Here,” he says, a bright smile gracing his face.

Your jaw drops to the ground, mind unable to comprehend that Jimin is standing right before you. This is not another picture you stare at on his social media, not another silly image he would text you — it is him in person, and you cannot fathom the fact that this day has arrived.

Before any words leave your mouth he wraps his arms around you, a prolonged embrace that took way too long to experience. You hug him back, head digging into his chest. You catch a whiff of his scent — a mixture of musk and honey perfectly swirling together.

“God,” you mumble, “finally.”

He gently pushes you back, gazing into your eyes for a brief moment before he presses his lips against your own. His lips are like two plump petals, providing a sensation that you have longed for so long. His hands remain fixated at your waist, grasp tightening while pulling you closer. He takes a breather before immersing himself even further with the paradise that is your body.

“I waited so long,” you mumble over his mouth.

You feel him smirk against your invitation and he pulls away, only to whisper, “So did I.”

“Which is why you should have let me sleep that night,” you jest.

His hand sails to intertwine with your own. “Well, you’re here now and that’s what matters.” He places a kiss on your nose. “Shall we go? Did you eat breakfast yet?”

You shake your head, letting him guide you to his car. “I ate a little, are you craving something to eat?”

“Um,” Jimin hesitates, gaze casting downwards to your crotch. He silently adores the way your body looks in shorts and a loose tee, but that is already limpid enough to your eyes. “Yes…” he trails off, implying something else.

“Oh my gosh.” You comment and roll your eyes, “I mean actual food.”

“Uh,” he pauses again, unsure. “Yes...?”

Jimin leads you to his vehicle, an onyx, lean sports car. Somehow it isn’t a surprise; he always tosses around cash into the game you and Jimin met on, decking his own character out with an array of skins and special features. You situate yourself on the passenger seat, fingertips dancing on your thighs.

“Where to?” you ask him as he starts up the engine.

He hums, thinking and beginning to drive. “Let’s see… what do you think is good?”

“I don’t know what’s good around here,” you tell him. “You’re the one who lives here.”

“Ah, right,” he chuckles, nervous. “I might know a place then.”

And so he turns into the second entrance to access a freeway. “How was your flight?” he asks.

“Boring, stuffy,” you tell him. “I was thinking about you the whole entire time.”

Jimin’s face tinges with coral hues, flattered by your words. An admirable smile blossoms on his face from your simple adulation. “Same,” he says, nodding his head.

“You know I still can’t believe this is happening.” You twiddle your thumbs over your thighs, gaze fleeting from him and the new set of scenery. “It’s strange hearing your voice in person, and seeing you. You’re taller than I thought.”

Jimin chuckles, feeling the exact same way. “Really? You’re just as gorgeous as you are in your pictures.”

“God,” you face the window, face flushing the deepest shade of roses, “I can’t believe you’re like this.”

Jimin laughs before starting up the car radio, tuning it as background music while he cracks a few jests here and there. The drive is lively, vivacious because of his constant pesters and complements.

Not so long after, Jimin takes an exit and remains silent until he reaches a stoplight. “There’s this really good restaurant near my house,” he informs. “And this light always takes the longest.”

His eyes watch the scarlet of the traffic light, waiting for it to become green as he impatiently taps the wheel. You lean over the center console to face him, sitting in silence until he directs his attention towards you. Jimin is pristine as ever: chiseled features and perfect contours, the sun kissing his skin to a flawless glow.

“Yes?” he asks, feeling your gaze bore into him.

You take notice of the way his eyes trail down to your chest, sight lingering at the low ‘v’ of your tee like an effortless tease. You lick the outline of your lips, that image still within his field of view, while staring at his own plump petals. Every fraction of your attention is directed towards him. You place your hand on his shoulder, inching a little closer to his body — until you see it.

Behind the nylon cloth of his shorts that shield his dick, his cock is hardening, bulge becoming prominent under the fabric.

Frankly, it makes you giggle, a rush of pride waving throughout your body.

Jimin shies away from your dark, amorous gaze and you move your palm to the nape of his neck. “You get turned on easily, have you noticed that, Jimin?” you tell him provocatively.

He shifts uncomfortably in the seat and bites his lip, refusing to lock eyes with you again — a sorry attempt for relieving his nerves. He feels his cock twitch in his shorts from your question alone, guilty from the truth of it and getting harder with every sweet word that leaves your mouth.

You lean in, closing a few more inches of the proximity. “I bet you want me to suck you off right now, don’t you?”

Jimin’s mouth parts for a few moments, the thought of you giving him road head making him almost insane. He clamps his mouth shut, refusing to say anything that can prompt your action.

“Do you?” you tease, other palm reaching over to feel his stiffness in the thin apparel. His breath hitches and he clenches his teeth, unable to focus on anything but your touch at the moment. “I think you do.”

All Jimin can bring himself to do is finally meeting fervid perceptions, immediately becoming enchanted by your gaze and alluring words alone.

You squeeze over his clothed length, hand sliding up and down slowly, ardently. “Baby?” you call.

“I-I do.” He nods his head, shameful.

“But you have to drive.” You push your bottom lip into a pout.

“Baby, I can’t wait,” he retaliates.

You hum, fingers wrapping at the waistband of his athletic shorts and tugging them lower. He raises himself in his seat a little until you shift the apparel to wrap at his mid-thighs. His cock springs against his lower abdomen quickly, almost as if it is thanking being free from the loose confinement of the shorts. His cock is larger in person compared to the pictures and video calls, more girth and all of a sudden you cannot help but crave a taste.

The light flickers green, resulting in Jimin cursing under his breath while he gently presses on the pedal. Nonetheless, you look at him with hungry eyes, locking gazes before you lower yourself onto his length. “Fuck, Y/N!” He slams his foot on the pedal from the sudden action and the car surges forward.

Your lips wrap firmly around his shaft, causing him to gain a death grip on the wheel with both of his hands. Jimin collects his composure and stabilizes the pace of the vehicle, trying to keep his attention on the road as his mind is drifting elsewhere.

Bobbing your head up and down, Jimin releases breathy groans and you find joy in his muted, lewd noises. You bring your mouth to the very tip of his cock to swipe your tongue over his leaking slit, the salty flavor kissing your taste buds. “Mm, baby,” he moans.

You swirl your tongue around his head a couple of times before diving your head back down this hardened cock until you reach the base, hollowing your cheeks out. You feel him twitch inside of your mouth; then, once ready, you swallow around his quivering member.

Jimin bends over a little, mouth dropping open to spill his moans that swirl along with dirty praises. The speed of the vehicle increases again; Jimin raises himself upright and leans into the backseat, attention fluctuating. “Shit,” he spits out. “Baby, fuck it. I-I’m going to take us home.”

You take your lips away from his dick with a pop, innocent eyes peering up at him through your lashes. “But what about breakfast?”

Jimin threads his fingers through your hair, gently urging you to continue. “That can wait,” he huffs. “Just… suck me off, baby, please.”

You look down at his hardened cock, realizing how stiff it is — how red is tinging the tip. “Hm, you sound so hot begging in real life.”

Jimin presses your head down, lowering your mouth over his desperate tip. The most you provide him as he prompts the action is with kitten licks.

He grips onto your hair, impatient. “You’ll be the one begging later if you keep on teasing me.”

You swallow back your words, bracing for Jimin’s length again. You put out your tongue and lick him from the base back up to the tip before taking him whole. One of your hands sail to rest on his thighs, keeping you steady while you proceed to suck him off. You feel Jimin’s hand stroke your hair amidst the pleasurable situation, prompting you to work faster, and so you do.

You are carried by the force of a sudden turn, the car coming to a quick halt and just when you are about to lift yourself to observe your surroundings, he robs you of your breath by pressing your head onto his cock. “W-wait,” he utters. “I’m almost there. We’re- agh- at my house r-right now. Keep going, please.”

Jimin yanks his keys out of the ignition and slumps in the seat, both hands now holding your locks as his eyes are shut while he engrosses the enlivening sensation. He starts to thrust up into your mouth, matching your pace while his cries pour from his lips.

You swallow around him again, a sharp pain chasing the feeling soon afterwards. You peer at him for a split second, loving the view of how his head is thrown back, exposed neck perfectly in view — all you want to do is mark him up, giving him the best parting present.

“Baby…” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “I-I’m going too—ah, fuck!”

With one final thrust back into your mouth he spills his load, allowing you to relish in his taste. You attempt to suck him dry, collecting bits of his cum in his mouth just so you can get off him with a pop, making sure he watches you swallow every bit.

And he does.

Your eyes are teary, lips wet and cum dripping from the outline. Your tongue chases the creamy pearls, catching the last of the salty taste as Jimin watches you with eager eyes. His chest is heaving, heavy breaths exchanging with his lungs as he tries to steady himself.

“Okay,” he pants. “That was good.”

You wipe your lips clean with the back of your hand, smiling at him.

“Want to go inside now?”

When you nod your head yes Jimin pulls up his shorts and slides open the car door, movements desultory as he trudges to the front door. You shadow his figure with your baggage, trailing him until he slips inside his house. The homely scent of coffee and vanilla kisses your senses, surprising you — especially from how tidy his house is. You would expect that from what you have seen in the video calls it would sort of be similar to a trash sty, sheets of dust on every bit of furniture; it is quite the opposite.

You slip off your shoes, leaving your bag by the door, and begin to wander his house, taking in the unfamiliar setting and comprehending the fact that it is all to yourself, and his, for the week. “Was your house always this neat?” you question while leaning on the counter.

Jimin creeps up behind you, tangling his arms with your body to pull your back to his chest. “I cleaned up. You think I would want you to see my house when it is dirty?” He laughs.

You hum, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I’m honestly quite surprised.”

“Do you always have low expectations for me?” he jests, nuzzling into your neck.

You turn around, facing his body and placing your hands on his chest as you press him closer to the wall. “Not really,” you reply.

Jimin grins down at you as you urge his back against the wall; within seconds, you crash your mouth over his, igniting another spark of arousing fervor within you. Jimin’s eyes flare wide at the sudden contact, pulling you in closer as you attempt to snake your hands under his tee. You rub your palms all over his chest, his toned body being heaven to the touch, and you then lower them to grasp on the waistband of his shorts.

“I’m still wet,” you whisper to the conch of his ear, excitement jolting your body.

Jimin tenses and swallows his breath, gawking at you from the corner of his eye. “Are you?” he questions. Jimin lowers his grasp to your ass, squeezing it softly.

“Yeah,” you confirm and rest your head on the crook of his neck.

As one of Jimin’s hands remains fixated on your crotch the other reaches to cup your heated mound, earning a sharp intake of breath from you. “I can see that,” Jimin whispers. “But you know what?”

He feels you smirk against his skin, indicating that you are ready. “What?” you ask, innocent.

You would expect that Jimin would strip you of your apparel in this very moment and lift you to his kitchen counter. God, how you want that. You would love for him to toss your legs over his shoulders, for him to have a strong grasp on your hips to hold you down as he dives into the pleasure that is your soaking core.

But he doesn’t.

You gasp from his hasty decision — not because he is giving you what you have been longing for, but due to him smacking your ass and pulling you away from him with a cocky expression sketching on his face.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, grasp on his tee no longer.

Jimin is making his way off from you, leaning on his wall before turning into another room. “You made me wait another month and a half for you to arrive,” he says with a quirk of his lips, slightly diabolic. “You can wait a few hours for me.”

Your eyebrows raise at his statement, disbelief washing over your body in waftures. “You’re kidding,” you say as you follow him.

Jimin shrugs and takes a seat on his sofa, turning on the television. “No.” He laughs. “I also sort of want to see how badly you’d want me.”

“You asshole.” You roll your eyes and join him on the sofa, nuzzling into his chest. “Fine, I can wait.”

Jimin plants a kiss on your forehead. “I love you…?”

He pulls you closer into his chest while surfing past the channels. It takes a while with your distractions and constant pestering for him to finally remain on a single channel, a new movie running on it. The whole entire time as Jimin has his eyes glued to the flashing screen you are trying your best to gain his attention. Honestly, he finds amusement at how you are attempting to bombard him with affection, kisses on his skin while your arms only wrap compactly around his torso but every single attempt you create he nudges you away with a grin on his face.

A whole hour passes of the television being white noise to you; you still attempt to gain Jimin’s undivided attention. You release a groan. “I didn’t wait all this time to have this happen.”

Jimin turns his head to you with incredulity. “We have the rest of the day, and a whole entire week.”

“I sucked your dick in the car,” you bite back, petulant.

Jimin chuckles. “And I appreciate it.”

You push your bottom lip into a pout and keep your complaints lodged within your chest as Jimin diverts his awareness to the film. Everything goes by smoothly until he notices that the scene is leading up to: the two characters in the movie are engaging in a heated make out session, clothing slowly being stripped off by the second within the dim of the setting. Jimin turns his head away, nervous.

You glance at the movie, interest rallying within you and you tease Jimin about it. You place your hand over his flaccid length, giving him friction titillatingly. “What’s wrong?” you question. “Don’t want to get turned on again?”

You squeeze around his cock, feeling him grow hard under your touch. Jimin remains niche, biting his tongue to keep himself silent.

“I think you are,” you murmur.

With that, Jimin raises himself from his seat, body feeling heavy when he escapes your touch. He forces a nervous grin. “I’m not,” he declares, clammy palms rubbing together. “H-hey, let’s just go play a few rounds of the game,” he says to quickly switch bases.

You groan and turn off the television. “You clearly aren’t lasting,” you tell him. “Can we, uh, bang now?”

But Jimin ignores your statement as he feigns contentment. “You brought your laptop, right?” he disregards your question.

“Um,” you turn your head to your baggage. “Yeah, are you serious?”

“G-great!” he stammers. “Come on, let’s go in my room.”

Wordlessly, you grab onto your laptop and gear and begin to shadow him into his room. You hesitate at the door frame once he opens the entrance to it, the scent of his cologne excessively strong. It is larger than it appears in pictures — more tidy as well. Observing the room you can pinpoint all of the specific places you have seen throughout the duration of virtual communication. His desk is as neat as he claims, bed always half-made because he lazes out easily. Though, there is that one pile of clothes in the corner that he never bothers to touch.

“You can sit on my bed,” he tells you. “I’ll just be on my desk creating the server.”

“Okay.” You become situated on the soft of his bed, positioning your laptop on a stack of his pillows as you start up the device. You watch as he types messages to his friends, letting them know that he is getting online — possibly with you.

It takes a few minutes for everything to start up, patience running dry but it finally happens. Great, maybe a few rounds of the game can be a distraction from Jimin. Jimin places on his headset, positioning the mic to his mouth and speaks a few words when he enters the server. “Hello,” he says, unsure. “Can you guys hear me?”

You place your headset on and laugh. “I can,” you respond.

“Whoa, who is that?” asks an unfamiliar voice, gruff and low. Your eyes peer on his screen and back to yours, an unknown character jumping in your character’s perception.

“Excuse me,” you respond, bitterness artificial when you read his in game name: Goldenkook.

“Isn’t it obvious,” chimes in another man, identifying as Yoongi. “That’s Jimin’s cyber girlfriend.”

“The one who wrecked our guild, the ‘Penetration Station’?” Jungkook asks.

“Blame Taehyung for that.” Jimin’s face flushes. “Can we just get started?”

You chuckle from their mini quarrel, finding merriment from the situation. Within seconds the first round commences, the sound of machinery firing and his friends yelling at each other exchanging — sometimes becoming rebarbative to your ears.

Between the time period of when you first met Jimin to now, it is safe to say that you improved greatly on the game. In fact if it wasn’t for the accidental entry into their private server you wouldn’t be by Jimin’s side to this day — plus, it sort of dragged you guys together. What started off as an irksome way to get you to not tarnish their guild name sprouted into raw enjoyment of each other’s company, and it didn’t take long for the admirable sentiment to fall into place afterwards.

You really do enjoy going wild on the game; though, it is in times like these where it is completely unwanted by you. Because every fraction of Jimin is immersed in the game and he would always put you off at times.

And in this case — your case — it is entirely unpleasant.

You attempt to distract yourself with a few rounds while it lasts, but nothing can turn you away from the fact that your long-distance boyfriend is at such a close proximity from you yet he still chooses a mere game over his carnal desires.

You do not realize how much time has passed until his room starts to darken him the setting sun, brightness of the world morphing into a softer glow.

And that is when you finally take initiative.

Placing your laptop on the ground along with your removed gear you amble to his desk, arm snaking on his shoulder. “Jimin.” You complain, desperate, “It has been hours…”

Jimin inches away from you, laughing at a joke that one of his friends have said as he gains another killer on the first person shooter.

You groan, tangling your arms around him to tug his body closer. “Jimin,” you coo.

“Give me a second, Y/N.” He types a couple of commands on his keyboard and you let go of him with a pout.

“Fine,” you huff and take a seat on his lap. “I’ll just… wait.”

“Babe, I can’t see,” he tells you, head trying to find its way back to the tiny screen.

You sigh and move out of the way, fixing yourself right on his lap — close to his crotch. Your eyes do not avert from his groin for a few moments; your mouth waters from the sight, desperation firing within you. You wait patiently, watching him score some more kills on the game for tens of minutes; that is, until you reach your limit.

“Baby,” you call, leaning into his neck. “I really want you right now.”

“Mhm,” Jimin brushes off, teeth clenching.

You cup his cheek, tilting his head to face you as his character responds. “I want you to fuck me so hard, so bad, now.”

You watch the way Jimin’s adam’s apple bobs up and down from your words, a diminutive small sign that your rousing words are starting to provoke him for your betterment.

“Please?” you ask, angelic. You slowly grind on his thigh to pleasure yourself — it is the least you can do if your boyfriend refuses to cooperate. Jimin’s body freezes, eyes staring off into space as you prompt the insatiable scene with zeal. “Mm, baby.”

Your wetness leaks onto the nylon of his shorts and your palm reaches lower to his dick, ready to jack him off through the fabric.

But Jimin stops you. He looks at you for a split second, enough time for you to catch the dark lust that hazes his eyes. He yanks off his headphones and tosses it on the desk, leaving the game dormant so he can take care of you. “God,” he mumbles and grabs a hold of your body, scooting the chair away from the desk. He positions your body prone over his thighs, giving him the first-class view of your ass. Then, he swats it with more force than earlier. “You’re so fucking needy, you know that?”

You tilt your head to look at him, struggling as he holds you in his grasp. You try to reach for him with your free arm but he latches onto your wrist, pressing it to your lower back. He slaps your ass once again. “J-Jimin,” you utter.

“You really couldn’t have waited just a few more minutes,” he spits out.

He keeps spanking your ass, each one with more force as if he is genuinely frustrated. Though, you feel his erection begin to form against your stomach. “N-no,” you mumble. “I’m sorry,” you say with a shy smile, indulging in the attention.

“That’s how badly you wanted my dick?” he questions, an eyebrow cocking upwards.

Jimin tugs your pants down, just below the curve of your ass to land a harder swat. “Yes,” you respond softly. It took long enough, but you are finally getting what you want — his attention and your cravings met.

Jimin chortles, delighted with your response. He runs his index finger to your core, spreading the wetness before he propels his finger inside of your hole without much warning. You moan from the sudden contact, breath quickening. Focusing on the pleasure he is providing you, he slides in another finger and twists it inside of you with every thrust.

“Fuck…” you moan, shutting your eyes.

Jimin smiles, savoring the sound he has waited so long to hear in person. He slides in another finger as if you earned it by crying out for him, curling the digits up perfectly and hitting your sweet spot. His digits are heavily coating with your succulence, aiding him by creating a smoother motion that satisfies you entirely.

“Jimin,” you tense up under his touch. “I-I, fuck…” You find it difficult to remain still in his grip, your stomach feeling tighter as he continues his flawless momentum.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and slides his fingers out, earning a whimper from you. “Do you need to cum? Is that what you have been wanting the entire day?”

You flutter your eyes open. “Yes… please, baby.”

“You’ll have to ask—beg for it.” He raises you back up, only to guide you to the bed with care. When you position yourself back onto his mattress he tugs your pants and undergarment down all the way, tossing the article elsewhere. He joins you on his bed, tongue licking the outline of his lip as he prepares himself for the main course.

“Jimin…” you trail off, barely able to focus your vision on him.

He grabs your legs and tosses them over his shoulders, pulling your heat closer to the plump petals of his lips. He kisses your inner thigh first, sucking on the tender skin and leaving a muted mark. “Yes, baby?” he asks.

You rest your head onto the pillow. “I-I need your mouth… please.”

“Do you?” He kisses your thigh again.

“Yes,” you close your eyes, waiting for him to begin, “baby, please.”

The last thing you hear is a dull chuckle emitting from Jimin’s mouth. Before you have any room to beg for him again he provides you with what you want. He presses his tongue on your core, dragging it up and down before swirling the muscle around your aching clit. He relishes in your taste — the sweetness of your juices — and practically digs for more. His tongue works its magic on your heat, the remarkable action luring your release quicker than you imagined.

He moans against your heat, vibrations providing you with an outlandish feeling of bliss, and you try to press your thighs together. Jimin smacks your thigh to have you undo the action, his tongue swirling over your pleasure central powerfully. He uses that same hand to slide in two fingers back into your hole, maintaining the action of sucking onto your clit.

Your breaths become unsteady, mind unwinding into a jumble of mixed sensations that are being sent and felt. Your hand rakes through his tousled locks to tug them, notioning him of your release.

Jimin takes your clit in between his lips and rubs it together, gently tugging on it before he swirls his tongue around the bud with voracity. He curls his digits with every thrust again, moments shifting to a higher intensity. You feel a fresh heat erupt within your body, sweat beginning to accumulate on your forehead the more times breathy moans spill from your lips.

And when he pours the most of his longing to taste you, channeling it into instigating motions, you cum — you experience the most intense orgasm and it waves throughout your entire body.

Your body feels lighter, eyes clamping shut as your mouth is agape. You grind against his mouth, his tongue still graciously out to collect and lap up your juices. As your back is arched you release an extended moan of his name, a symphony to his ears before you crash onto his mattress, regaining your composure.

“Fuck,” you pant. “Jimin, that was good.”

Jimin sits up and swallows one last time before taking a deep breath, wiping the dripping succulence from his chin. You peer at him past your lashes, taking a mental picture of his glistening chin and lips — how he is still licking what is left of you on his face to savor the flavor.

He starts to crawl to you, hesitating when he is midway. Along with this he strips you off your tee and removes your bra, leaving you absolutely bare in front of him. He commits the same action to himself, ridding himself of the pesky material and revealing his chest. God, how perfect he looks. If you are not so tired you would touch him, pull him close, and show him just as much love as he did to you.

He props his arms on either side of your exhausted physique, staring at your chest as a million thoughts run through his mind, each one being coarse, lustful. He peppers you with kisses on your chest before sucking in a mark, a dark purple print on your breast — and he continues to do so. Mark after mark, each one being fired with his impure thoughts and wanting, your whole body practically transformed into his canvas of red and violet hues.

And when he finishes off the last one he moves one of his hands to your chest, groping it while the other has its nipple being taken into his mouth. The sound of him sucks onto your erecting buds stands on equal par to music to his ears, and his generous massage on your breast is more than lush. He moves it in circular motions, prompting your mind to be sent into another delirium from the sensation.

Every time you are under his touch is feels exquisite, rich, and you cannot help but love the delectation you feel when he plays with your breasts — toys with your nipples. “Jimin,” you groan. “F-fuck.”

Jimin takes one of the nipples in his thumb and index finger, rolling it around slowly and applying the perfect amount of pressure. He mimics the same action with his teeth on the other, sucking onto it as well while his other hand pinches your bud. His hand sails to the end of the curve of your breast, playing around with the core.

A familiar warmth blossoms in your core again, your arousal beginning to leak from such exquisite actions. A whimper leaves the parting of your mouth at the same time Jimin takes your whole bud with care. He groans and lifts his head up, sitting lightly on your hips to allow his other hand to join in on the fun. His thumb swipes over the wet surface of your nipple, rolling over the sensitivity.

You whine when he pinches them harder, and he follows with another circular massage that makes you throw your head back into the lush of his pillows. His slow movements are deliberate, pushing you to the edge. Jimin fixes his position and places his knee in between your two legs, gracing you with the opportunity to thrill another release.

Despite being sensitive, you cannot help but grind onto his thigh. You attempt to steady your breathing — attempt to have control — but it all goes downhill with his miniature movements. You roll yourself on and off his hard muscle, groaning with your sensitivity blossoms pain swirling with raw pleasure.

“Jimin,” you whisper. “This is too- ah!”

He shortens your plea with a courteous grasp over your two valleys, tight and graceful at the same time. Jimin then flexes his thigh, giving you more ground to urge your edge. You grind harder, faster on his thigh — the much needed friction already drawing you a step closer to the repeated state of thrill.

Within seconds, you are sent over the moon. You spill yourself onto your boyfriend, his name falling from your lips almost endlessly — a perfect rhapsody to his ears. Bliss pulses through your veins, a fuzzy feeling chasing quickly afterwards as your mind is clouded with extreme elation. Your eyes are clamped shut; his movements wither to desultory actions as he finishes off the lovely knead of your breasts.

Jimin reaches over to kiss you languorously until your mind returns from its frenzy, his palm cupping your cheek with care. “That was good,” you murmur.

“Was?” Jimin repeats. “I’m not done yet,” he says with an airy laugh.

You flutter your eyes open, gawking at him as you regain your breath properly. “What?”

Jimin lifts himself up and discards his lower apparel, providing you with the full show of his hardened dick and how it smacks against his lower abdomen. Fuck, its not only red at the tip, but it appears as if the angry hues are seeping down to the base; how long did he prolong his urges for this moment?

“I…” he trails off, “still want to be inside of you.” He kisses your neck, sucking another love bite to add on with the rest. “I want to feel you tighten around me—want to cum because of you again.”

“Baby,” you whisper.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asks, breath mingling over your sweaty skin. He lowers his voice, tone provocatively seductive. “Just like you asked…”

His palm sails from your neck down your torso, and he stops right above your core.

“Just like you…” he presses softly onto your clit with his middle finger, “begged.”

You remain silent at his words — at your own suggestion — and you are crossed for whether or not you can fight past the pain for another intense burst of pleasure. You heavily exchange the air with your lungs, taking in the moment. “Fine,” you spit out.

“Fine?” he repeats, mirroring your unsure tone. “It doesn’t seem like you still want it.”

Jimin grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. “No,” you correct. “I-I do…”

You avert your gaze from his, eyeing out the window as a miniature distraction. You take another deep breath as if you are just leaving a state of rest and brace yourself for the third and final round. Jimin grins. “Is that it?”

You press your lips into a tight line. “P-please,” you fix. “Jimin—” you kiss the corner of his mouth and gently grab onto the nape of his neck— “please fuck me.”

“Of course, baby.”

You expect Jimin to act tenderly, considerate after the two acute rounds that he has put you through, but from the looks of his quivering member, cock aching with nothing but severe lust and desire, it is foolish to think that way. Jimin gets a tough grip on your hips and soars back, flipping you to a prone position in one fluid action. Your chest hits the soft mattress, cushioning the impact, and Jimin smacks your ass, ordering for you to get up.

He positions himself steady, knees digging into the luxuriant blankets and mattress as he awaits for you to get into place. You prop yourself up on your elbows, remaining on your hands and knees and Jimin runs two fingers up your womanhood. Your fresh juices coat his digits, especially before he propels them inside of you, twisting two times before popping them out.

You look back at him, wondering why the sudden stop of prurient activity has ceased; but, you find a sight that is far more impure.

As if Jimin has been waiting for you to glance at him, he sticks his digits that are glistening with your arousal into his mouth, tongue swirling around them to catch every ounce of the taste like honey to him. With dark eyes and disheveled hair, his bare chest visible — him being ready to fuck you senseless — it is a perfect mental picture to take.

You feel a surfeit amount of your arousal leak from your entrance, a signal for him to get started — a sign to display how needy you are for this moment.

Jimin takes his fingers out of his mouth with a pop and gains a grasp around your hips, his wet fingers cold to the touch on your unclothed skin. He rubs his scarlet-tinged dick against your womanhood a few times, your juices leaking onto his cock and glazing it generously.

“Ah,” Jimin groans. “You’re so fucking wet. You’re dripping.”

You chuckle, wiggling your ass a bit to give him the notion to begin. “It’s all for you, baby.”

“Fuck.” He throws his head back and pumps himself a couple of times prior to aligning his solid dick with your hole.

He could feel your warmth emit from you; then, he slips past your glistening folds and into you. God, you are so damn wet.

Jimin fills you up completely, hands grasping onto your hips for dear life as the sensation is already overbearing. Your hands twist into his sheets, the sharp pain rising up to your stomach. He begins to thrust into you, not slowly but hard and quickly as he keeps you upright. Within a heartbeat, the pain morphs onto a sting of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he utters. “You feel so- agh- good, baby...”

He maintains the momentum for a good while, slamming into you incredibly hard and so painfully quick. His hand swats your ass and continues to do so whilst guiding your hips on and off his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed within his room and it does not take long for your moans to chase the peak of its volume.

Jimin’s sweat begins to drip down his temples, focus into creating each other’s release. Your lewd noises only fans his flame of libidinous desires; and of course, it is the final key.

Jimin is practically on his own excursion to cum, mind a mess as he channels out the last of his sanity into his frantic movements. He sails his palm to your clit, rubbing tight circles onto the nub to time your release with his own.

Then, like a gargantuan wave, both of your orgasms dawn upon each other. Jimin proceeds to thrust in and out of you a few times while holding back, movements messy and unorganized until he slips out of you to bust on your back. You groan, the warm contact of his cum satisfying. Jimin’s eyes clamp shut as he tries to draw what is left of his mind to focus on the raw pleasure. He uses one of his hands to jerk himself off, getting the last of his release out and splattering it on your skin.

Your face digs into the pillow, muffling your screams for him as you feel every fraction of your being become undone. It feels as if the dazed state of jubilancy overtakes your body in the most rapturous way, replacing the pain in your body with delight and satisfaction after the arduous session.

Your body falls straight onto the mattress and soon Jimin passes right next to you, both trying to regain each other’s breath. Amidst the quietude of the room, the only sound that can be heard is the heavy panting of each other as both minds calm from their transportation into a seventh heaven.

When the silence passes, state or normality regained, Jimin releases a fit of laughter. He turns his body to face you, grabbing onto your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. “How was it?” he questions with a wink.

You turn your body to look at him properly, tired eyes with dried tears of joy gawking at him with admiration. “Worth the wait,” you whisper.

He places a kiss on your lips and strokes your hair, the pad of his index finger trailing down your jawline to tilt your chin more proportionally to him. “I love you.” He smiles.

“I love you too.” You nuzzle into his chest, providing yourself with a few moments of thought. “So, is this what I’m going to get every time I disturb your gaming time?”

“My wha—oh, shit.” His eyes widen when he realizes something: he never left the gaming server. As if the sexual activity did not happen Jimin lunges out of the bed and slips from your hold, landing on the chair to check his progress in the game. Shit, how many times did his character die?

He roams the safe spot of the map and tosses on his headset, ready to talk to his buddies until he gets cut off by one of them. “Is Jimin finally back?” asks Jungkook who brings his character into his field of view.

“I think so,” adds Yoongi.

Jimin bites his lip. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Finally,” Jungkook spits out. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh,” Jimin pauses and looks at you, “what?”

Jungkook groans, exasperated. “You sounded like you had a great time.”

“What do you mea—”

“—your girlfriend sounds hot,” Yoongi interrupts. “Fuck, where can I find someone like that?”

Jimin’s eyes are flaring, eyebrows crossing together and you sit yourself up on his bed, waiting patiently for him to return. “What are you guys talking about?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook sighs. “Jimin,” he says, disappointed. “Next time, mute your microphone before having sex with your girlfriend. The whole fucking server heard that shit.”

Jimin hangs his head in shame and you question what happened. When he tells you all you respond with is a fit of shameless laughter, disbelief and finding amusement from the moment. “Well.” You jest, “Guess we can keep that in mind for next time.”

“Oh?” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “So there’s going to be a ‘next time’?”

You watch as he disconnects from the server, removing his headset along the way to join you on the bed. You pull him closer and place a kiss on his lips. “Of course there’s going to be a next time.”

Jimin gulps. “N-now?”

You hum, making it appear as if you are considering the thought. “No—tomorrow.” You add with a quirk of your lips; a slight tease, “Maybe.”

#i had a major cringe attack trying to go through this #bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts #bts jimin #jimin #bts reactions #bts imagines #bangtan boys #park jimin #jimin scenario #pce out #happy holidaysysysys #writing

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