#i'm surprised how well the braid fits

[baskeigh-ball]

In this au, how does splinter react to the new big bro of the family?

Thank you! (｡’▽’｡)♡

oh, Splinter's reunion you ask?

weeeeell

It went alright but was definitely the heaviest out of any of the family's reunions. Confused the heck outta Raphael, too. There were a lot of apologies on Splinter's end, and Raph's not entirely sure what they were for

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

���Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

[nonbinary-octopus]

hello knitblr?

I am a novice knitter writing a story in which a master knitter is knitting gifts

and I have no grasp of time estimates

initially I was thinking I could have him knitting a project in the background for a month or two and then surprise, it's your Christmas present! But then I looked up reference pics for the sort of hat I was picturing, and one recipe said it could be done in a couple of hours, so he probably wouldn't be working on it for that long.

soooo

then I thought. what if multiple items? Hat, gloves, scarf, maybe even some cozy socks? But would that be too large a project for that time span?

So. Here is my question.

If you were to knit all of those things, all of them with pretty braided cables, how long would it take?

The gloves might be fingered or fingerless, idk.

also they're all in matching yarn, which is soft and warm. (I don't know yarn weights either...)

...also how much measuring would you need? suppose you wanted it to be a surprise, yet fit reasonably well, is that feasible?

A scarf I'm sure is pretty one size fits all, and hats more or less are too, but gloves and socks?

and, related question, how long does a sweater take? This one does not need to fit within any time span, it's more for a "You made this!?" "Yep! Took me [amount of time]" exchange.

Also with braided cables, as it is the appreciation of the sweater that inspires the creation of the other items.

[beoneofus]

“ d’aw, wook at da’ wittle baby! ” a certain blonde cooed, reaching to poke fun at the messy braids made in your hair by the little boy that left the room just minutes ago only to grab a few things to finish off his masterpiece — the masterpiece known as your disastrous hair .

you see, laddie was innocent and recently met a new friend amongst the boardwalk. this friend just so happened to be a girl, and this girl gave him the lovely idea of doing up ones hair. she experimented on his head; brushing his hair to the side with the comb she had, along with applying a clip out of her own hair, to his. laddie had loved it, so she let him play with her hair as well.

he was given a demonstration of how to braid — and, low and behold, that demonstration was brought back to the cave.

now, you have no problem with spoiling the child. you love laddie, you all do; you just... really love your hair as well and now, after it being so tangled, you're afraid you may have to cut it.

and paul's fucking teasing isn't helping-

your narrowed eyes darted onto his figure, which was crouched beside your sat one —you were on the floor— mockingly, only to growl and lunge towards him; grabbing onto the front of his jacket, golden buttons pressing tightly against your palm. “ say one more word, and I'll shave your head in your sleep. ”

paul's eyes widened at the threat — usually he wouldn't take your words to heart, he'd laugh them off, but his hair was precious to him and you looked pissed. that's why he gulped, shaking his head in a nod. “ okay, okay! ” he pulled himself away, yanking your hands off of his front. “ jeez.. saw-rry, ms pissy. ”

you huffed in irritation. marko, who was nearby reading a comic, burst into a small fit of snickers from seeing paul so scared. you were just a mere human; what real damage could you actually do?

“ I know what you're thinking, ” you shot his way, giving the other male an annoyed look. “ and if you want to find out what I'm capable of, go ahead and piss me off. ”

marko's hands shot up in surrender, the comic dropping. “ hey, ” his green-blue eyes flickered to you, lips twisting in an upwards pointed position. “ I didn't do anything, baby cakes. I'm on your side, here. ”

the nickname made your eye twitch, but you didn't say anything.

just as you were about to retort though, laddie came running back into the room, “ y/n!! ” he laughed, grinning wide. “ look! I found some of star's old hair-clips! ”

blinking, you snatched your gaze away from the diabolical duo, pinning your now curious eyes onto the two clips laddie held. paul saw that as his ticket to flea, so he did.

one was a bronze, metal clip with glittery, silver stars decorating the center. it was plain, but pretty, and definitely something you could see star wearing.

the other one was one of those snap-clips. it was black, a small paper-like butterfly complimenting the tip. it looked old, the way the black paint was chipping off the end, the little ornament barely hanging on. still, you thought it was cute — it probably looked more durable when she first got it.

“ I'm guessing you're using those in my hair? ” you raised a brow, giving laddie a playful grin. no surprise that you had quickly calmed down. despite being mad about your hair, there's no way you had it in you to take it our on the kid. he was just an innocent sweetheart.

“ yep! ” laddie chirped, only to skid his way behind your sitting form once more. you felt his small hands place themselves among the sides of your head, only to reposition your head, until you were looking forward once again. “ now hold still! ”

you sighed, but smiled to yourself. looks like you'd have to risk your hair to make him happy... oh well.

but, that smile of yours quickly vanished as you saw paul and marko on the couch, looking at you, holding in their laughter.

oh, you're definitely killing them later.

hi, enjoy this since I've been gone for fucking decades.

[hooksbooks]

Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day

This year I participated in @renegadeguild's Renegade Loves Fic (Writers) event for the first time, in which we celebrate Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day by binding two copies of a fanfic we love and sending one copy to the author.

I chose Florigenesis by @nientedal (and its sequel your roots send down to grow as an epilogue), which is a Megamind/Roxanne hanahaki story. Or, in the words of the author, "Less 'Hanahaki' and more 'mutually-requited pining with flowers thrown in for flavor.' " I loved the imagery of the flowers and had a lot of fun typesetting it with as many floral motifs as I could fit in it.

The flower Megamind ends up coughing up for Roxanne are dahlias, so I found some open-source images of dahlias sourced from books in the public domain to use as scene breaks and as a watermark behind the table of contents. Additionally, I used the font "Lime Blossom Caps" to use as a drop-cap at the beginning of each chapter. The text ended up being a bit more than 380 pages.

This is the first time I've done a book partially covered in paper instead of all in bookcloth. Before gluing the paper to the cover, I sealed it with homemade paste wax, which I think turned out really well. The book has a lovely feel to it--I'll definitely do some more partial-paper covered books in the future.

Also for the first time I sewed a headband on each book. It turned out fairly well. I used waxed linen thread as the core (the waxed thread that came with my bookbinding kit--its braided and so thick I can't imagine using it for sewing signatures).

Additionally, I got myself a chisel (and sharpening kit) to trim the edges, which turned out much better than expected. I still don't have something to hold the book horizontally while I trim so I'm still trimming vertically for now, but it turned out much better than trying to use a utility knife like I was before.

Technical Details:

Quarto size (quarter-letter, about A6)

Sewn-on made endpapers

Rounded but not backed

Sewn-on headbands (no tailbands)

Chisel-trimmed pages

Oxford hollow

The linen tapes are frayed and glued to the exterior of the boards

Sewn-on bookmark

Things I especially liked about this bind:

CHISEL TRIMMING! I knew it would up my game to have a chisel to trim pages with rather than just a utility knife, but WOW, it made SO MUCH difference! Once they were finished I kept petting the edges of the pages because they were just so soft and smooth and perfect.

I really like the sewn-in headbands. I'd probably use a bit thicker core next time, but they turned out well and I'm pleased with them.

I'm surprised how much I liked the paper-covered covers. I had planned on most of my books being full-bookcloth with this one as an exception, but with how much I like the look and feel of this book I will probably switch that around and do just quarter-bound with bookcloth unless I have a good reason to make an exception.

For the made endpapers, I glued just the edge of the endpaper to the white instead of the whole page. I quite like it--it's a lot more flexible this way and doesn't have a "noticeably glued-together" feel to it.

The wax paste turned out really well. It makes the cover feel very "finished" instead of just like scrapbook paper, which is what it actually is.

Things I'd like to improve for next time:

Because the text block is rounded but not backed, there's a little wrinkling of the endpaper glued to the board right at the hinge so it doesn't pull when the book is opened all the way. I'll have to experiment a bit more with this to figure out a good hinge for a rounded-not-backed book.

Although I love the flower cover, it's a little busy to have the title legible on the cover, so it's only on the spine. That's not a bad thing, but I'm not sure what I would do if I definitely did want a title/design on the cover itself.

I think honestly there's not very much to improve for next time. I'm very pleased with how this one came out--it's very nearly perfect.

[justanofficeworker]

Man's best friend

TW: This Fic contains kidnapping, dub con, NSFW scenes, Stockholm syndrome among other things. Please do not read if these themes upset or disturb you. That being said welcome and enjoy the ride.

Chapter 1- The meeting

The harsh fluorescent lights of my local grocery store shone into my eyes as I struggled to reach the top shelf for the last item on my list. I groan as I fall back from the tips of my toes. ‘God whoever put the brown sugar on the top shelf is a fucking whore’ I think to myself rolling my eyes. ‘Ok, round two’ I reach up to the shelf again, my hand just barely grazing the bag before a large scared hand plucks the bag down and offers it to me. My eyes follow the hand, up a thick arm to an attractive scared face, it's bottom half covered by a black surgical mask with a white skull decal on the front. 

“Need a’lil help love?” the man's voice was warm like hot chocolate and just as smooth. “ holy, blond babe” involuntarily slips through my lips, I need to start thinking before I speak. “ well that's a new one” he chuckles, a sound I would pay a premium just to have in a bottle. "Geez, I'm sorry, that was creepy. Thanks for grabbing that for me" I rush out, taking the bag of brown sweetness in my hand. " Don't worry about it, I've been told my appearance is a bit shocking to most civilians, I'm Simon" he holds his hand out for a handshake. 'civilians, maybe he's ex-military?' I think as I shake his hand. It's as warm as his voice sounds and he grasps my hand gently, not like how most men squeeze your hand to intimidate you when you're a woman. "I'm Y/n, but most people just call me Beanie" The sentence all but falls out of my mouth, god I'm awkward.

Simon steps closer to me as another shopper passes through the aisle. "Beanie? A cute name fitted for a cute girl" his eyebrows quirk like he was smiling or maybe laughing at his own joke. 'holy shit this guy is huge' runs through my mind as he gets closer. Simon has a least a foot on me and is nearly twice as wide, hes like a brick house covered in a fluffy green cardigan. "hello? Earth to ms. Beanie. You still in there? or do you just like staring?" He waves a hand in front of my face and i let out a startled squeak.

"I'm so sorry, I just um ,have a lot on my mind" a good enough excuse if I've ever made one. Simon looks pensive " well, I've got to get home before my , dog, gets antsy. But how bout we talk more over coffee. maybe you can tell me a little of whats on your mind" he pulls out a pen and receipt from his pocket and jots his number on it. "text me some time" he winks as he turns to walk out the aisle. " Oh um yeah ok" i call out to him , dumb founded, a hot english guy just gave me his number after calling me cute. The world must be ending. I finish my shopping quickly and begin my walk home, unable to shake the sudden feeling of being watched.

SIMON POV

“Toothpaste,sorbet, lemons….” Simon’s thoughts trailed off as he looked catching a glimpse of what had to be the most pathetic looking woman he had ever seen. She was small and curvy and struggling. Muttering under her breath , probably about the sugar she couldn’t reach. Her braids bounced with his movements as she tried to reach the top shelf again. Simon had know her, before he could stop himself he was walking over and reaching for the sugar, brown like her glossy skin, and handing it to her. He had asked if she needed help and in her surprise called him a ‘blond babe’. She was shy , like a mouse , in their short interaction she seemed to just loose focus and float off. A girl like her shouldn’t be by herself, she should be at home being coddled and cozy. At least according to Simon.

He had to know more, so he gave her his number, he knew she eventually reach out and then they’d have their girl. He excused himself and then waited. Soon enough she was exiting the store and walking , presumably, to her home. As he watched he called Johnny. “Soap, i’ve found a bird for us” he said into his earbud as he took a picture to sent to his partner. As the photo was received johnny groaned. “She’s a pretty one, looks sweet” came johnny’s voice.

“When?” Johnny barked impatiently

“Soon” Simon scolded as he got into his car and drove off

————————————————————————------------------------

The sound of the car door alerted Johnny to Simon’s return. Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded up the porch. Johnny opened the door for his partner, eager to know more about their new girl. Crowding Simon in the entryway and throwing questions left and right. Whats her name, when will she be ours , what does she smell like? The inquires dying in his throat as Simon curls a warm hand around it. “ patience johnny shes a skittish one. Quiet and easily distracted too. We don’t want to scare her , do we?” Johnny gave a whine and nodded “I’m going to take her out , wine and dine her and when the time comes bring her home. You will not interfere. Copy?” Simon pulled Johnny in close by the throat, towering over him. “ yes sir” johnny whined, his hips twitching against Simon’s leg. Johnny had always been impatient and impulsive, but now with the prospect of you all training went right out the window.

"Good lad, now kneel for me love" Johnny easily slides to the floor, his head bowed and lent against Simon thigh. Johnny was docile when he wanted something and in this case it was information. Slowly, johnny unzips Simon's fly, " tell me a bout our bird Simon, whats she like?" Johnny, voice sultry and sweet, is allowed to pull Simon from his pants.

" Eager are we puppy?" Simon hisses as Johnny kisses his leaking tip. "shes a golden goddess of a women, small and demure, she was shy when i approached her but" he pauses as Johnny's warm mouth engulfs his member. "i can see it , shes got a mean streak, was cursin' up a storm before she noticed me." Simon sighs as johnny takes him to the base. "Easy pet, wouldn't want to" Simon is interrupted by a high pitched *ping*.

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

" I'm home" you yelled into your empty apartment. You lived alone but had read somewhere that announcing your arrival and departures could help stave off the effects of depression. And god did you need a break from those effects. You'd been alone since you had kicked out your then boyfriend of 3 years after finding him in bed with your now ex best friend. "it's not what it looks like' he had said as you started grabbing all traces of him and throwing them out the nearest window, you friend's clothes included. You'd kicked them both out with nothing but the sheet off your bed and said good riddance. 'maybe i should get a cat" You mused as you unloaded your groceries. Your thoughts suddenly swerving to the huge blond you'd met, the number he had slipped you now burning a hole in your pocket.

Maybe you'd text him , be real suave and ask him out or something.

Beanie: Hey it's Beanie from the grocery store you helped me wit the sugar :)

Typing....

typing...

' He must be typing a letter or something, you think as you lean against your cabinet. Setting your phone down you leave the kitchen take a well deserved bath. As you turn the tap you hear a distant *ping*. You may or may not have run out of the bathroom and tripped trying to get to your phone faster.

Simon: Yeah Beanie

Simon: I remember you , the pretty bird buying sugar

You can feel your face heating at the compliment, already imagining his smooth as warm butter voice. You were having some inappropriate feelings about a stranger and you needed to *ping*. Another text.

Simon: so about that coffee love?

[strwberri-milk]

HELLOOOOO, may i request a smut where kaeya is still wearing his new outfit while fcking the reader? thank you :DD

yall the brainrot for this fit is REAL

You knew that Kaeya was getting a new outfit for some sort of stage play he was doing. He wasn't giving you too many details yet because he wanted you to stay surprised for when he finally unveiled the outfit to you.

To say you were surprised when you saw it is a dramatic understatement. Kaeya didn't deviate too much from his regular clothes when in uniform, nor in his personal life. You were used to him dressing fancily for nights out but this was something on a whole new level.

The way he leaned into this more fantastical style made your heart skip a beat, especially when he gave his signature one-eyed wink to you. You couldn't help but swoon, impatiently waiting for him to return to you so you could lavish him with some well-deserved attention. Or so you thought.

You wish he would take off something, any layer of clothing but of course he wouldn't. He's a tease, and he saw the way you squirmed just by looking at him. He loved it so much, absolutely obsessed with the way your eyes grazed over his form.

His cape draped over his shoulder, moving in time with each thrust of his hips. You could hear the clinking of all of the little jewels that adorn his clothes, wishing that he at least undid his braid so you could work your fingers through it but the way he kissed you any time you tried made your brain melt.

You consider yourself somewhat lucky that he at least was willing to pull his cock over the waist of his pants, your arousal darkening the lightly coloured fabric as he pumps into you with reckless abandon.

Kaeya has your wrists pinned to the bed, painted nails digging into your heated skin as you feel him coax another orgasm out of your body. You feel boneless, melting into his lap as he brings your legs to wrap around your waist. If it weren't for how tired you were you'd be more willing to appreciate the way the cool silks feel against your heated skin.

"Fuck, you got this worked up over just seeing me in this costume?" he growls into your neck, sucking in new marks as you moan pitifully.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck Kaeya," you whimper, nails digging into his clothes as he makes your back arch again.

"Please just fuck me more, please, I need you so bad." Your voice shakes, making Kaeya smirk against your skin as he angles his hips towards that spot that has you seeing stars.

"Guess this thief is stealing more than just money, huh? You practically just gave yourself to me," he chuckles, making you wish for the nth time he wasn't wearing those infuriating cuffs or so many intricate layers that it prevents you from actually touching him.

"Just let me cum again, just one more time," you plead, burying your face into his shoulder as he obliges kindly.

The low sound you let out from your throat makes him shudder, cock twitching inside of you as he fills you up. You can feel him spilling out of you, pulling his still hard cock out of you with an evil look on his face.

"Don't worry - I'm not done with you yet. Clearly, you're still very interested in this costume of mine."

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 1: Going Home

In the small barn situated in a quaint rural Wisconsin town, you stood behind the Holstein cow, your task just completed. You carefully peeled off the long blue disposable veterinary glove, a necessary tool for checking if cows, or even horses, were pregnant. With a practiced motion, you tossed the glove into the nearby blue bucket, a routine part of your work in veterinary care. The rustic environment of the barn, the sound of animals nearby, and the smell of hay and livestock created a familiar and comforting atmosphere.

"Well, Hank. She's due any day now," You state, stepping out of the stall. In your jeans, rubber boots, and flannel shirt, you fit right in, despite the stray wisps of chestnut hair escaping your French braid.

Hank, an elderly man dressed in blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt, acknowledged your evaluation with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Doc. I'm not sure how I can repay you…hold on a moment. I recently had a pig butchered. I can offer you some of that meat," he proposed, his weary gray eyes brightening with the suggestion.

"Only if it won't affect your winter provisions. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way."

"No, we're set for now. We still have some meat left from the two deer my sons hunted last fall."

Extending your hand, you replied, "That's more than fair. It'll also take care of any future issues you might have with Mildred."

Gratefully, he clasped your hand in his. "Ever since you arrived here, Doc, you've been a godsend. I can't imagine what we'd do without your help."

You exchanged a firm handshake.

"Remember to call me if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"I sure will. Thanks once more."

Picking up your bucket, you made your way out of the barn and towards your truck.

You positioned your bucket at the rear of your truck, swung open the door, and settled into the driver's seat. Retrieving your cellphone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail from your husband. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. His communications typically revolved around financial matters, prompting you to wonder about the nature of this particular call.

You tapped the voicemail icon on your iPhone and listened:

"Y/N, it's me. I'm just calling to inform you that I'm on my way back. Not to Texas, though, but to Wisconsin. I'll be landing at Rusk County Airport, aiming to arrive by around 6 p.m. tonight. I'll see you then."

After the message ended, you disconnected the call.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin busied himself packing his travel bag, which lay sprawled on his bed.

"Just to clarify," began Javy 'Coyote' Machado, his best friend, with a tone of disbelief, "you've got a place in Wisconsin?"

"Yup," Jake affirmed.

"And you've never actually set foot in it?"

"Nope," Jake responded, keeping his focus on his packing.

"And who looks after this house?"

"My wife does," Jake said nonchalantly.

Coyote's eyes widened in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes," Jake replied simply.

Coyote took a moment, the weight of Jake's revelation sinking in. "Hold on, Jake. We've been friends for nearly ten years. And in all that time, you've never once mentioned that you were married, or even hinted at it."

"Well, I am," Jake said matter-of-factly, continuing with his packing.

Coyote, in disbelief, threw his hands up and scanned the room. "Okay, then who is she? And how come there aren't any photos of her around here?"

"We've both had a lot on our plates," Jake replied, finishing his packing with a zip of the bag.

"But how busy can a married couple be to not even see each other?" Coyote pressed.

"She's been occupied with her studies," Jake explained.

"Studies? What, is she training to be a doctor or something?"

Jake remained silent for a moment, his face giving away nothing.

"You're serious? She's actually a doctor?"

Picking up his bag, Jake finally responded, "She was studying to become a large animal veterinarian."

Coyote, visibly taken aback, managed to stutter, "I just... I'm at a loss for words."

Jake, shifting his focus to the task at hand, asked, "You still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course," Coyote replied, still processing the revelation.

"Great. Then let's hit the road." Jake motioned towards the door, ready to embark on his journey.

Steering your black Ford F-250, you navigated the lengthy driveway leading to your residence. This log cabin, a product of an inheritance and some astute financial decisions, had been your project three years prior.

As the cabin came into view, you admired the expansive structure that occupied thirty acres of farmland you had acquired. Beyond it lay a sizable horse stable, complete with an attached training ring, a testament to your love for animals.

Approaching the house, you pressed the button to activate the garage door. The door of the 4-car garage rolled open, and you smoothly parked your truck inside, ready to disembark.

You reached over to the passenger side to grab your backpack, then opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Heading towards the door that led into the house, you moved with a purpose, the sound of the garage door closing behind you echoing in the spacious enclosure.

This door opened into the mudroom, which was equipped with a fully functional laundry room, a bathroom, a pet washing station, and ample storage space. As you let your backpack fall to the floor, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was your mother-in-law calling. Pressing the answer button, you greeted her warmly while switching the phone to speaker mode.

"Hi, Cindy," you said, freeing your hands as you continued your entry routine.

"Y/N, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Just fine," she replied.

"So, you understand why I'm calling then?"

You released a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down. "Yes. He called and left a voicemail."

"Y/N, he still loves you." Cindy's voice carried a mix of hope and concern.

As you settle onto the bench and begin to remove your boots, you respond, "I know."

Cindy probes further, sensing your hesitation, "That doesn't sound very convincing."

With a slight shake of your head, you reply, "Well, sometimes Jake isn't very convincing either."

"Just take things slow," Cindy advises gently. "I believe all you both need is some time together again."

"I'll do my best," you promise, the conversation steering towards a hopeful possibility.

Cindy's voice softened further, her tone imbued with the wisdom of experience. "I understand that it's been difficult, and there might be a lot of unresolved feelings between you two. But remember, love is about finding your way back to each other, even through the toughest times."

You paused, absorbing her words. It was clear she spoke from a place of deep understanding and perhaps her own experiences. "You're right, Cindy. It's just… hard to know where to start."

"Start with honesty," she suggested. "Open up to each other about your feelings, fears, and hopes. It's the foundation you can build on. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you, supporting you both."

Your smile reflects a moment of gratitude. "Thanks, Cindy." Glancing at your watch, a sense of urgency creeps in. "I need to go. It's already 5 o'clock, and I've only just got back from work. Jake mentioned he'd be flying in at 6."

"Alright, dear. Please keep me updated on how things go. Oh, and thank you again for the horse fly repellent. It's been working wonders."

"Of course, I'll let you know. And you're welcome. Take care, talk to you later," you say, wrapping up the conversation. After hanging up the phone, you pick up your backpack and make your way to your bedroom, ready to prepare for what comes next.

After managing to squeeze in a quick shower, you slipped into some clean clothes. With the temperature taking a dip, you opted for a pair of jeans, a heavyweight sweatshirt, and hiking shoes to keep comfortable. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, practical for the drive. Steering your Expedition, you headed towards the local airport to meet Jake.

Aware that Jake piloted a Cirrus plane—a fact made all the more personal by your having paid off the aircraft this year—you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension about the reunion.

Turning onto the road that led to the airport, you soon arrived and parked your truck outside your hangar, ready to greet him.

Casting a look at your watch, you noted it was ten minutes to 6. A memory flashed through your mind, a reminder of one of your husband's traits: Jake was always punctual.

As you closed your eyes, your head resting gently against the headrest, a vivid memory began to surface, transporting you back to the moment you first met Jake:

You stepped through the doors of the rustic bar in Austin, Texas. Your college friend Avery right next to you.

"It's only one night. We deserve it after yesterday," she said.

The rustic bar was alive with the energy of live music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the grueling exams that had consumed your life for the past few weeks. Avery, ever the instigator of your small adventures, was right; a night of unwinding was long overdue.

Navigating through the bustling crowd toward the bar, you felt a sudden nudge that almost set you off, ready to confront whoever was behind it. But that impulse faded the moment you turned around, finding yourself looking into the most captivating green eyes you had ever seen.

The surprise of the encounter rendered you momentarily speechless. The owner of those captivating green eyes was quick to apologize, his voice a warm, deep timbre that seemed to echo directly to your core.

"Sorry about that," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "This place is a bit more crowded than I expected."

You found your voice, albeit a little shaky from the unexpected jolt of attraction. "It's okay, really. I should have been watching where I was going."

He chuckled, and it was a sound that made you want to hear more of it, to keep him talking just so you could listen. "I'm Jake," he extended his hand, the action both friendly and bold.

Taking his hand, you felt a surprising jolt of electricity at the contact. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Y/N. You here to see anyone in particular tonight?" Jake asked, his gaze still locked with yours, as if the crowded bar around you had faded into the background.

"Just here to unwind with a friend," you replied, gesturing toward where Avery had found a spot at the bar, seemingly engaged in trying to order drinks.

Jake nodded, understanding. "This place is perfect for that, but you're not from around here."

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head slightly, impressed by his observation. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's the accent."

You chuckled, self-consciously touching your throat as if you could feel your accent there. "I guess it's a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Only a little," Jake teased, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But it's a good thing. Makes you stand out." He thought a second. "Sounds a bit midwestern to me almost Canadian."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "That specific, huh? Well, you're not wrong. I'm actually from Wisconsin, so you're pretty close with the Midwestern guess."

Jake nodded, impressed with himself. "I have an ear for these things. Wisconsin's a beautiful place."

"It is," you agreed, your thoughts briefly wandering back to the familiar landscapes of home.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm here for a college class."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

"Veterinarian. I'm a large animal veterinarian."

Jake's interest visibly perked up at your answer. "A large animal vet? That's impressive. There's always a need for folks who can handle the bigger animals, especially around these parts."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and passion for your chosen field. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine since I was little. I love animals, and getting to help them, especially the larger ones that require a bit more... let's say, finesse, has always been fulfilling for me."

He leaned against the bar, genuinely intrigued. "Sounds like it's more than just a job to you."

"It is," you admitted. "It's about making a difference, however small it may seem. And the connection with the animals... there's something special about it."

Jake smiled, his admiration for your dedication clear. "I can see that. It takes a special kind of person to do what you do. And speaking of making a difference, my family owns a ranch not too far from here. We've got horses, and every now and then, we run into a situation that could use a vet with your expertise."

The mention of his family's ranch piqued your interest. "Really? I'd love to hear more about it. Working with horses has always been a dream of mine."

Just as you were caught in that moment, Avery approached, holding a beer out to you. "Here's your beer," she said, handing it over before her gaze shifted to Jake. "And who's this?"

"Avery, meet Jake. Jake, this is Avery," you made the introductions, facilitating the exchange between your friend and the man with the captivating green eyes.

The sound of a plane engine snapped you out of your reverie, prompting you to open your eyes and gaze skyward. Above the airport, you spotted the small Cirrus plane, unmistakably Jake's. You watched as it gracefully circled above, aligning itself for a smooth approach before finally descending towards the runway in a well-executed landing.

As the plane taxied closer to where your vehicle was parked, you observed the engine powering down. Stepping out of your truck, you began to walk slowly towards the aircraft. The door of the plane opened and out stepped a figure you recognized instantly – a six-foot tall man with dirty blond hair. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes, complemented by a brown leather jacket. It was Jake, finally there in front of you after what felt like an eternity.

But it wasn't the young Jake you remembered, this Jake had turned into a manly Jake. He still had the same piercing green eyes, but his face had turned more rugged, yet still handsome. His presence seemed to exude a quiet strength and a sense of maturity that the younger Jake hadn't possessed. There was an air of confidence about him, tempered with a hint of world-weariness. His green eyes, still as piercing as you remembered, now seemed to carry deeper stories, reflections of experiences and growth. His face, more rugged and lined than before, bore the marks of life's trials and triumphs, adding to his manly allure. Yet, despite the changes, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, a connection to the past that lingered in his expression.

He closed the door when you reached him. "Y/N," he said.

"Jake."

The two of you looked at each other.

You cleared your throat and looked away. "Our hangar is over there." You pointed to the hangar behind your vehicle.

"Our hangar?"

"Yes. I had it built after you purchased the plane."

He looked at you questioningly and then he observed the hangar with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You built that?"

"Yes, it seemed practical for storage and maintenance," you explained, maintaining a professional tone despite the undercurrent of emotions swirling between you.

Jake took a moment to absorb this information, his gaze shifting from the hangar back to you. "That's... impressive. Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation mixed with the awkwardness of the moment.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling the complexity of the situation. After a brief pause, you added, "Shall we get the plane stored?"

He nodded, a silent agreement to focus on the task at hand, perhaps both of you grateful for a momentary diversion from the emotional reunion.

"You can put your bags in the truck. It's unlocked. I'll go open the hangar and get the tow bar."

""How about I assist you with opening the hangar and retrieving the tow bar once I've put my bags in the truck?"

"That's fine," you agreed since you had no clue what you were doing anyways. You watched as Jake went to the other side of the plane and grabbed four bags.

You quickly made your way to Jake's plane and grabbed two of the bags and then placing the bags in the back of the Expedition. Jake did the same with the other two and then started walking towards the hangar. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was all new to you, and the prospect of being involved in something as unfamiliar as handling a plane was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

After securing the bags, you walked towards the hangar, where Jake was already busy. As you approached, he looked up and gave you a brief nod, acknowledging your presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him work. He moved with a practiced ease, clearly familiar with every aspect of the aircraft and the hangar.

"Need a hand?" you asked, eager to learn and help.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sure. Could you grab the other end of this tow bar?" He held out one end of a long, metal bar to you.

You took the offered end, feeling its weight. Jake guided you on how to position it correctly, explaining how it was used to move the plane. Together, you maneuvered the bar into place and began the task of towing the aircraft into the hangar.

As you worked alongside Jake, you appreciated the quiet efficiency with which he operated. There was a sense of competence and confidence about him that you found reassuring. It was clear that he was in his element here, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills.

Once the plane was safely in the hangar, Jake secured everything and turned to you. "Thanks for the help. Not everyone would jump in like that."

You shrugged modestly, feeling a small sense of pride. "Happy to learn something new. And it's not every day I get to say I helped tow a plane."

His chuckle resonated warmly in the hushed atmosphere of the hangar. "Well, you did a fantastic job."

"Thanks," you responded with a bashful smile. "Uh, dinner should be all set by the time we get back."

"You made dinner?"

"Not exactly. His name is Chuck. I encountered him during a trip to Wyoming."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Another man is living in my house?!"

You sighed. "I honestly don't know how to answer that because you really haven't even seen our house."

Jake ran a hand through his hair turning away and then turned back to you. "I never cheated on you, Y/N. I came here to work on our marriage. You could've at least told me."

You looked at him. "I'm sorry. I forgot, my husband hasn't really contacted me for four years. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I needed help running a ranch."

Jake stared at you.

"Chuck is my chef and, I guess, butler. He helps around the ranch."

Jake's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "You have a chef and a butler now?"

You nodded, trying to keep your tone even. "Yes, Jake. Running the ranch alone has been tough. Throw in my hours as a Veterinarian, you never know. Chuck has been a huge help, not just in the kitchen but around the property too. He's been indispensable, especially with you being away for so long."

There was a moment of silence as Jake processed this new information, his features softening slightly. "I see. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you here alone. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a small sigh, the tension easing a bit. "It's okay. We both have a lot to catch up on. Let's just focus on getting back home for now."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "You're right. We've both been through a lot, and we have a lot to talk about. But right now, let's just get back home and take it one step at a time."

After closing the hangar, you both walked towards the truck, there was a comfortable silence between you. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding and the beginnings of reconciliation. You could sense that both of you were cautiously optimistic about what lay ahead.

Once in the truck, you started the engine and pulled out of the hangar area and started to drive home.

The familiar landscape passed by the windows, each mile bringing you closer to a place that held both memories and possibilities. You glanced over at Jake, who seemed focused on the road but also more at ease than he had been earlier.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"You would've done the same thing for me," you replied.

Jake glanced your way, a small smile playing on his lips. "Always, Y/N. No matter what happens, I'll always come for you."

Those words, simple as they were, carried a weight of meaning that filled the cab of the truck. You leaned back in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the comfort of his presence and the hope that, despite the challenges, you both might find a way forward together.

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me

@guacam011y

[your-local-simp-writers]

Midnight Serenade

Word Count: 662

Warnings: None

Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The night was dark and heavy with fatigue as Hobie made his way home. The weight of the world, or in his case, the weight of his heroic responsibilities, bore down on him. It had been a long day of patrolling the streets and fighting crime.

As he entered the quiet sanctuary of his apartment, his eyes fell upon you, peacefully engrossed in your own world. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated your face as you lay on the bed, headphones on, lost in a realm of music and digital wonder.

Hobie, ever the blunt and stone-faced individual, couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart at the sight of you. In that moment, he decided to shed the weight of his alter ego and embrace the simplicity of being himself.

Quickly changing into comfortable clothes, he slipped into the bed beside you. With a mischievous smile on his face, he gently pulled off your headphones, startling you from your reverie. His strong arms encircled you, drawing you close in an unexpected display of affection.

"Oi, love," he said in his charming British accent, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "Thought I'd join you in this late-night escapade."

You blinked in surprise, a blush tinting your cheeks at his sudden presence. His directness and stoic nature always had a way of catching you off guard, but you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your body as he held you close.

"I... I didn't expect you to be here," you stammered, a mixture of confusion and delight in your voice.

Hobie chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Well, can't resist the company of someone as captivating as you, can I? Besides, I could use a break from all the web-slinging and crime-fighting."

You nestled against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. "I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have you by my side."

He tightened his embrace, his voice softening. "You have no idea how much I cherish these moments with you. You bring light to my darkest days."

As he began to braid your hair, his fingers gently working through the strands, you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.

"Feels nice," you mused, your eyes closing as his touch sent tingles of warmth cascading through your scalp.

Hobie's voice held a hint of a smile. "Glad you think so. I've got a knack for this, you know? Perhaps I missed my calling as a hairstylist."

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. "Well, I'm glad you're using your skills on me."

The room fell into a comfortable silence as the braid took shape, the rhythm of his fingers soothing both your body and mind. With each gentle tug and twist, it felt as though he was weaving a bond between the two of you—something tangible and irreplaceable.

Once he finished, Hobie leaned back, admiring his handiwork with a small smirk. "There you go, love. Now you've got a proper crown fit for a queen."

You reached up to touch the braid, a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you, Hobie. This means a lot to me."

He gave you a tender kiss on the forehead, his voice filled with sincerity. "No need to thank me, love. Anything for you."

As you snuggled against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. In this moment, Hobie's stoic facade had crumbled, revealing the true depths of his affection for you.

Together, you drifted into a serene slumber, knowing that you were safe and loved in each other's arms. And as the night faded into dawn, the braid in your hair served as a reminder of the unbreakable bond you shared—a symbol of the quiet, heartfelt moments that made your love for each other uniquely beautiful.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Kitkat Universe Masterlist

Summary: You and Danny go to the annual haunted woods paintball game.

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff | Word Count: 4k | Warnings: smoking

A/N: This is my fic for the GVF Fic Writers Halloween Event! Of course it's Danny and Kitkat <3 I used the prompt "starting a new Halloween tradition". I hope you like it! ♡

“I want to go too.”

Danny gave you an uncertain look, packing his vest into the duffle bag on your bed. You couldn't tell if it was surprise at your statement or reluctance to have you tag along, and felt a little uncertain yourself as you waited for his answer.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He tucked his curls behind his ear, and you were distracted by the movement for a moment. He was sure to wear a beanie, and you knew it would look cute, but you liked his hair best unbound and unhindered.

“I — I think so,” you said, and you realized it wasn't that convincing. “If I can still go. If you want me to.”

Danny and the boys were going to a staff party at the haunted house they worked for, a midnight glow-in-the-dark paintball extravaganza in the haunted woods on the property. He'd asked you a few days ago if you wanted to join and you'd declined, feeling like it might be a little much for you, but now that he was getting ready to go you suddenly didn't want to miss out on the fun.

“Of course you can still go,” he said easily, and you were glad to know he wasn't regretting extending the invitation. “I’d like it if you did. But it’s... well, it's meant to be kind of scary, kitkat.”

You stood up straighter. “I know. I think I can handle it. I want to try.”

He softened then, giving you an amused smile. 

“Okay, buddy,” he said, using his other silly little nickname for you. “Good on you for being brave. Let's give it a try.”

You glowed with excitement and pride. “Really?” You were no dummy; you knew you'd be a bit of a hindrance just because you weren't very good, not to mention your scaredy-cat tendencies to anything even mildly spooky. “I don't want to... be in the way. I've never played paintball before.”

“You won't be in the way,” he assured you kindly. “I want you there, and so do the guys. And there's gonna be people who've never played before. It'll be fun.”

“Okay,” you said brightly, choosing to believe him even if he was biased because he loved you. But then, you were a little crestfallen — “I don't have any equipment, though. I guess I should have thought of that.”

He waved you off. “I have an extra gun, and I'm sure one of the twins’ extra vests will fit you. We can probably rustle up a helmet from somebody. All you gotta do is dress warm and look cute.”

You smiled up at him. “I think I can handle that.”

He chuckled and kissed your nose. “I think so too. Go get dressed, kitkat. All black so you don't make yourself an easy target.”

He was already dressed head to toe in black, and he cut a fine figure in his dark jeans and thermal shirt. You rifled through your dresser and found a suitable outfit, and you watched him pack the last of his things in the mirror as you braided your hair.

“Ready?” you asked as he zipped up his duffel bag.

He cracked a grin. “Ready. Let's hit it.”

You blasted some rock n roll favorites from your Halloween playlist on the drive, “Runnin’ with the Devil” and “Bark at the Moon”, both of you belting out the tunes as the brisk wind whipped your hair and brought a flush to your cheeks. You decided that you weren't going to chicken out, no matter how intimidating a battle in the middle of the haunted woods sounded, and were hyped up and ready by the time you got there.

“Kitkat!” Josh tossed you a vest as you neared the bonfire where he and Sam were getting warm and outfitted. “Glad you decided to come. Jake went to find you a helmet.”

Danny helped you strap on the vest and showed you how to use the paintball gun, demonstrating where the trigger was, how to refill the hopper, and how to turn the safety off once the game started. He put a refill of paintballs in your vest and made sure everything was snug and comfortable.

“Good?” he asked.

You nodded. “Good.” Jake returned with a helmet for you, and you put it on and looked up at Danny through your mask.

“How do I look?” you asked.

He smirked. “Like a little assassin, kitkat.” He tapped a gloved finger against the brim of your mask. “You'll do great.”

A whistle blew from the woods, indicating that the game was about to start, and the five of you put strips of reflective orange tape on your vests to show what team you were on. The other team, you'd been told, had yellow tape, and you reminded yourself to only shoot at them. You were a little worried you'd get discombobulated and shoot one of your own team members, but you'd try your best.

Danny put on his helmet, and his skull-shaped black mask was spooky in the firelight. Though he'd been handsome to you earlier, outfitted and confident and big, he looked downright scary with the mask on.

You smiled a little. You had some experience with Danny looking intimidating behind a mask, and that had turned out alright. This probably would too.

You stuck close by his side as you tramped through the woods to your team's starting point, listening to the chatter of excited players and the nightly cacophony of the woods. Owls and crickets and breeze-swept branches made the woods come alive, and despite the effectively haunting atmosphere, you were excited to play and see how well you'd do. A nervous anticipation sent a cool tingling through your fingers, and you gripped the gun more tightly than Danny had showed you to.

“Um, Danny?” you asked when you stopped, looking up at his mask.

“Hm? You alright?”

You nodded. You wished you could see his face. 

“Can you... can you stay with me? For the first round, anyway?” You knew he probably wanted to run off and play Black Ops with his friends and not be slowed down sticking with you, but you'd get lost and freaked out in a second without him.

He leaned down to bonk his helmet gently against yours.

“Yes. Of course.”

You giggled. “Thanks.”

The ref on your side reastated the rules and boundaries, pointing out your team's home base that would serve as a resupply point, a medical tent should anyone need it, and the place you were supposed to go if you got out. There would be no mistaking who was hit and who wasn't; the paint was glow in the dark, and it would show in fluorescent green. Otherwise, you were on your own to play as long as you lasted. It was a game of capture the flag, so you were to be on the lookout for a glowing banner emblazoned with a witch's hat; your team's was branded with a ghost.

“Players ready?” the ref asked. “Three, two, one — ”

An air horn sounded, startling you, and every member of your team took off at a run to find cover and go after the flag. The loud popping of offensive fire filled the woods almost immediately, players already meeting each other out in the woods, and you suddenly became a lot less confident than you had been.

Danny hadn't run off with everyone else, patiently waiting for you, and you were so thankful for your very kind boyfriend when you knew he wanted to be out there in the thick of it. He held out his hand.

“You got this, kitkat. I'm right here with you.”

You put your hand in his and let him lead you at a jog through the woods he knew by heart. Most of the players did, since they worked here, but some stragglers seemed either as unsure as you were or just plain foolish, standing out in the open. You caught a glimpse of yellow tape, but before you could even raise your gun, Danny had dispatched the player and sent them back to their base groaning and cursing their bad luck.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand again, his voice muffled through the mask. “I know a few likely places they could have put their flag. Let's go.”

You roused to the thrill of the game as you went quickly through the woods, dodging trees and roots and decorations of various shapes and sizes: vampire statues, headstones, giant looming skeletons. Leaves crunched under your feet, telltale even under the constant sound of gunfire, giving away people's positions left and right. Danny took the other team's players out with startling accuracy, and though you fired a few times, you only maged to hit trees or some set pieces.

Danny pulled you behind a huge rock, one that usually served as a jumping-off point, literally, for some ghoul or goblin to scare passers-by during operating hours. You caught your breath as he took a look around, careful to be quiet.

“Their flag's definitely over this way,” he said in a low voice when he rejoined you. “There’s too many people grouped up here for it not to be. We just gotta find out way around to it.” He tugged a little on the strap of your vest.

“Still good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, grinning behind your mask. “It’s kinda fun.”

He laughed. “I told you it would be. You stay here a minute. I'm gonna go scout out a little further ahead.”

You didn't exactly love him leaving you in the dark, noisy woods, but you didn't protest, happy to let him have a little solo macho time. You waited in your hiding spot for him to come back, listening to the excited laughter, the happy yelling, the calls back and forth of friends as they played. It soothed your nerves a little to hear that it was a game, really, and that all the fear and adrenaline was in good fun.

All of a sudden, somebody skidded around the corner of your rock, and you raised your gun and fired without thinking.

“Damn!” The other player gave a groan of pain at the impact, and though you were relived it wasn't Danny you'd shot, you noticed with chagrin that it was somebody wearing orange tape.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” you said sincerely. “I didn't see your tape. I'm really sorry.”

The other player huffed and sat next to you, leaning against the rock.

“Kitkat?” he asked. You recognized that distinctive Kiszka accent. “It’s Sam.”

You felt marginally better then, knowing Sam would forgive your shoot-first-ask-questions-later strategy. 

“Aw, Sam, I'm sorry I shot you. You scared me to death.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you scared me too. Good hit, though.” He looked around. “Where’s Danny?”

“He went to look for the flag,” you said. “He thinks it's around here somewhere.”

Sam nodded. “It is. Gonna be a hell of a time gettin’ to it though. Jake got hit, but Josh is still out there as far as I know.”

Danny came around the corner then, and both you and Sam raised your guns before you saw it was him. He held up his hands.

“Just me,” he panted. “Don’t shoot.”

“Well, she already shot me,” Sam groused good-naturedly. “Hey, you got hit.”

Danny’s hand hovered over the bright green paint on his chest. “Yeah, I know. It's wicked over there. That's definitely where they have the flag. Too bad we can't get it.”

“We could,” Sam said. “Respawn’s only ten minutes.”

“Really?” Danny asked, brightening. “Oh. I must have missed that. Let's get back to base, then.”

Though you weren't hit, you went with them back to base; you could still play, and you actually managed to shoot one of the opposing team members as you made your way back through the woods.

“Hey, good shot,” Danny praised. “We might make a paintball player out of you yet, kitkat.”

Glowing with pride and pleasure, you came into the warm circle of light at the home base and joined the players waiting to respawn. You took off your masks and caught your breath, Danny and Sam wiping the paint off their vests and letting the ref know they were staring their wait time.

Danny bummed a cigarette off of somebody and came to stand with you, Sam, and Jake, who was animatedly telling the story of how he'd been shot.

“I have, like, four minutes left,” he said. “Then I’m going right back where I was. There's only one guard over there, and he's the one that shot me, but now that I know here's there, I can take him out.”

Danny looped a thumb around the strap of his vest and exhaled smoke through his nose. “Where is it? Looked to me like they had people everywhere.”

“By the graveyard,” he said eagerly, and you could tell Danny knew exactly where that was. “Come that way if you can, but — ” He looked a little smug. “I’ll probably have the flag by then.”

“Yeah, but you gotta get it back here, Jakey,” Sam teased. “Think you can manage that?”

“Come with me and be my bodyguard,” he joked right back. “I could use a few bodies between me and a paintball, Sammy.”

Josh came tramping in as Danny finished his cigarette, looking a little worse for wear with paint splattered on his shoulder, his chest, and his leg.

“Damn, Josh,” Sam laughed. “You got your ass kicked, huh?”

Josh sat down heavily on the bench, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from his twin. 

“Yeah, well, some moron shot me while I was on my way back,” he said. He swilled the water. “As if I wasn't bright fucking green already.”

You all laughed and commiserated with him, Sam distracting him from his losses by regaling him with the tale of being shot by his own team member.

“And you'll never guess who it was,” he said.

Josh raised a brow and looked at Danny.

“Wasn’t me!” he protested with a laugh. “Kitkat’s the sharpshooter, not me.”

You took the subsequent ribbing with grace.

“He scared me!” you said, laughing. “Running around the corner like a bat out of hell!”

“Now, Sam,” Josh said, pointing an accusing water bottle at his brother. “You should know better than to scare our poor kitkat.”

Jake took his leave when his time was up, telling you all to come join him at the graveyard, and pretty soon it was time for you, Danny, and Sam to get back to the game as well. Josh wished you good luck, saying he'd join the group guarding your team's flag, and you headed out into the fray again.

“I’m gonna go by Jason’s house,” Sam said, indicating the path to the Friday the 13th set. “I know Jake said to go the other way, but hey, no guts, no glory.”

You parted ways and took off towards the graveyard, Danny leading you down the path, weaving between trees and narrowly avoiding being shot several times. Somebody jumped out at you from behind a headstone, but Danny stepped in front of you and took the player out before they could even shoot.

“My hero,” you said dreamily.

He laughed. “Come on, trouble.”

You were quiet and cautious as you neared the location of the flag, dodging the guards and hiding behind every bit of cover you could find. The action wasn't so feverish here, though the air was more tense; guards roamed around, almost a dozen of them, and you and Danny were furtive and careful as you made your way around them.

“If I get shot,” you whispered, “I’ll go back alone and you keep looking for the flag.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. You have to be at Jake to it.”

He breathed a laugh and patted your helmet. “Okay. Good deal.”

You met Jake a few minutes later, trudging upright and without caution back the way you'd come, green paint glowing on his thigh. You caught his attention, and he was more wary as he hunkered down beside you and Danny.

“The flag is right there,” he said, motioning over the little rise in front of you. “Go get it. Be careful. I’ll wait here and guard you while we go back.”

You pulled at Danny's sleeve. “Do you want me to stay too?” You were worried you'd slow him down as he went to get the flag, but he shook his head.

“No way,” he said. “You’re gettin’ that flag, kitkat. You'll be like the final girl in a paintball slasher movie. You're gonna win this whole thing.”

You doubted it, but his conviction was sweet all the same. You held onto the back of his vest as you walked quickly over the rise, keeping low, and he reached a hand back to reassure you.

Then, like a bright green beacon right in the middle of the graveyard, was the flag with the starry witch hat. None of the guards suspected anyone would be that close, so you were free to take it and get back to your hiding spot without being caught. You could hardly believe that you'd gotten it, and Jake almost gave you position away in his excitement when you showed him. 

“Holy shit!” he said, a yell contained in a fervent whisper. “You got it! Hide it under your vest, kitkat, before somebody sees it!”

“Are we allowed to hide it?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Danny answered, “but whoever brings the flag in can't be hit. Stay close, kitkat.”

You shoved the flag between your shirt and your vest, hiding the bright green, and the three of you set off at a run back to base. You heard when someone realized the flag was gone, and the three of you moved even quicker; you were being chased now, shots coming rapidly from behind you. Jake was already hit, so he moved behind you to take the brunt of it; you could see the light of the base when Danny gave a grunt of pain and stumbled forward.

“‘S okay, keep going,” he said, a little winded from the impact. The player who'd shot him was coming up close now, but they didn't shoot; maybe they didn't know you were there, and Danny and Jake were glowing already.

“There’s somebody else with them,” the other player said to a companion close behind. Thinking fast, you ran your sleeve over Danny's back and held up your hand.

“I’m hit too,” you said, the paint glowing as evidence.

The players let you go, fooled by the ruse and confident that even if you did have the flag, it would have to be returned if you showed up hit. Danny and Jake barely contained their glee.

“I can't believe that worked!” Danny said, boyishly pounding you on the back when you were a safe distance from the other players. “Holy shit, kitkat! That was incredible!” 

You wobbled a little under the strength of his pride and praise, grinning up at him.

“Let’s go!” Jake urged. “We’re almost there!”

You ran headlong towards the base, caution thrown to the wind as you were back among your own team, the boys whooping and hollering as you barreled in.

“We got it!” Danny yelled as you came into base. “We got the flag!”

The players gathered close around you.

“Show ‘em,” he said eagerly.

You held their attention and pulled the flag out with a flourish.

“Voilà,” you said dramatically. “The witch’s hat!”

Your team erupted into cheers, losing themselves in the excitement of victory, and only quieted down when the ref came to examine the win.

“You have paint on you,” he said, looking at your sleeve with a critical eye. “If you were hit, it doesn't count.”

“She wasn't hit,” Jake said, dragging Danny around to show off the smudged mark on his back. “She put Danny's paint on her to trick the guys who were chasing us, and it worked.”

The paint showed clear evidence that you hadn't been hit, only smeared with paint, and the ref declared it a victory with a blast of the air horn. Your team cheered and crowded you, Danny, and Jake, lauding you as the conquering heroes. 

Sam and Josh came in from the playing field, fairly tackling you as they celebrated your victory. Buffeted on all sides by fervor and excitement, you were glad to feel Danny's steadying hand on your back; he handed the flag off to a bunch of players who ran to gloat at the other team, pulling you close to his side.

“Still good?” he asked. His smile was warm as he looked down at you.

You beamed. “Good? I feel amazing! I am the final girl, like you said! I can't believe I won!”

He laughed and gave you a victory kiss. “I can, kitkat. I knew you could do it.”

When things had settled back down and everyone was wiped of paint from the previous game, the flags were hidden again and another game started. You decided to stay with Josh for guard duty and let Danny run free, and you knew he was having a good time with Jake and Sam. You and Josh did a fine job as guards, taking people out as they tried to capture your flag, Josh giving you pointers on your aim until it wasn't half bad. Some sneaky player eventually got both of you from behind, though, and you could do nothing but watch as they made off with the flag.

“Maybe they'll get hit,” you said hopefully.

A few moments later, a victory roar was heard from the opposite base, and Josh gave you a wry smile.

“Or not,” he said cheerfully. He put his arm around your shoulders. “You still won the first one, though, so I'd say we did alright.”

The game was slated to go on as long as people wanted to play, but you and the boys took your leave when that round was over. Cleaning and packing up your gear, you decided to meet at the diner for a celebratory dinner in the wee hours of the morning.

Over cups of decaf and plates of wonderfully greasy diner food, the five of you sat comfortably squeezed in the cracked vinyl booth and relished in your victory. “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror warbled from the ancient jukebox in the corner, and as you sat shoulder to shoulder with the twins and across from Sam and Danny, you felt yourself smile at the comfort and closeness of your little family.

While the Kiszkas replayed every moment of the glorious battle, you and Danny snuck out to the parking lot for a smoke. It was a bit of a tradition now, and you snuggled close in the warm pools of light spilling from the diner windows. 

“I think we should make this a new tradition,” Danny said. “You winning the annual paintball game.”

You laughed. “We can try, anyway.” You tucked your hand under his jacket. “Thanks for inviting me. And for staying with me.”

“I love you,” he said simply. “I’m glad you came.”

You watched the cars go by, said hello to the diner cat who often roamed around looking for scraps of bacon or a friendly pet. Danny pulled another cigarette from his pocket.

“You want to see a magic trick?” he asked. “It’s almost as cool as when you pulled the flag out.”

You watched his hand. “Sure. Show me.”

He did some fancy moves with the cigarette as you wondered what exactly you were watching for, and you were so busy watching his hands that you didn't notice what the real trick was.

“Abracadabra,” he said, and snuck a kiss.

You giggled and pushed him away. “That was a terrible magic trick!” you protested.

He smiled. “So you don't want me to do it again?”

You wound your arms around his neck. “I didn't say that.”

He kissed you and held you close, and you decided it wasn't such a bad magic trick after all.

“I love you,” he said sweetly. “Happy Halloween, my final girl. I hope you survive every movie and take me with you.”

You laughed and looked up into his beloved face, thinking you'd much rather be in the romcom you were in right now, but with Danny, you'd be happy with anything, even a slasher flick.

“Aw, Danny.” You gave him a kiss. “Me too.”

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[zushikiss]

Happy birthday, dearest.

summary ; it's your birthday! and your boyfriend shows his efforts for you so much.

warnings ; fluff, scara and reader lives beside each other, use of the petnames love [ scara ] , hon [ xiao ]

pairings ; scaramouche, xiao, diluc x gn!reader

notes ; it's my birthday today so i thought this would be fitting to post !

─ SCARAMOUCHE

you're on your phone simply trying to pass time as you await for the time to finally hit the 12 am mark, it's a few minutes before your birthday and you simply haven't felt the need to sleep yet so you don't but when the clock finally strucks 12 am, signifying the start of the next day you hear small footsteps on your balcony.

you take your eyes off of your device as a familliar silhouette emerges from the darkness of your balcony, it's your boyfriend!

"Happy birthday, love."

he hands you a small gift, the wrapping paper in your favorite color along with a ribbon in his, you smile as he lays down on the bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your temples as you tore the gift open.

the gift is a picture frame, the frame itself decorated with your favorite flowers but made in clay, an envelope also falls, it was tucked behind the frame, however the thing that brings tears in your eyes is the photo itself.

it's a picture of 13 yr old you and scara during valentines, his friends and yours pushed the both of you to the marriage booth, leading you and scara to be "married" that day.

though the both of you were denying the fact that you both had very obvious crushes on each other, you still obliged by the rules of the class president, which was all "married" pairs had to stay by each other's side for the day, the both of you even went on a sweet and awkward date in your small school cafeteria.

it was a picture of you two sitting on one of the lunch tables, the table filled with snacks the both of you enjoyed, you were smiling in the photo, feeding scara fries while he slowly accepted it, with a blush on his face and while averting his eyes.

"I hope you like it, it was really hard to sculpt those flowers."

"Of course! Thank you scara, i love it.."

you hug him tightly as he presses a kiss to your forehead, you put the frame on your bedside table, as you lay back in bed to cuddle your ever so sweet boyfriend, little did you know the mess that was scattered on your boyfriend's desk, multi colored clay littering the desktop, different tools all semi organized in a cup he had solely for the purpose of holding his cute bright pink sculpting tools.

─ XIAO

when you awoke from your deep sleep, the smell of your favorite food quickly made its way to your room, and before you could even check the time on your phone your boyfriend slowly enters the room, carefully holding a tray with water, your favorite drink, your favorite snacks and as well as your favorite breakfast food.

"I'm not the best at cooking but i really wanted to show you that i tried, but pleaae don't expect a lot.. you know cooking isn't my forte."

the entire day xiao tended to your every need, even surprising you with a bouquet and a plushy you've really wanted, he couldn't help but also purchase a few in game things for you, knowing how much you love the game.

he tried playing for you, even going as far as making an account but video games wasn't really something he enjoyed, however you knew how much effort he put in so you appreciated it either way.

now with your favorite plushy in one arm and your loving boyfriend in the other, you were ready to fall asleep seeing as the day ended, but you could feel a pair of lips on your collarbone as you hear a soft "happy birthday, hon." you couldn't help but smile as he rests his head in the crook of your neck once again.

─ DILUC

as if being droven around all day, going on one too many dates for one day, and receiving plenty hugs and kisses behind closed doors wasn't the best gift then you could say it was this.

you were sitting on the couch, braiding your boyfriend's hair as you tell him a story about your workplace, he hums softly as he asks question, though his eyes were glued to the television, you knew that his attention was all on you.

as you finished braiding his hair you excitedly handed him a mirror as you whispered a quick all done, from the mirror's reflection you could see a small smile forming on his face before he stands up to plant a kiss on the bridge of your nose.

"thank you, name. i think it looks pretty."

"not just your hair, luc. you too, you're very pretty as is!"

"mhm, not prettier than you though."

[pola-rola]

I'm really bored, so there's a little Yuu-sona or something like that. I don’t like to write on the pictures themselves (yeeah, sure), soooo...

A little backstory: like yuu-sona, I would also like to be based on some Disney character, and one day I was just looking around and was like, “hmm, I braid my hair with a polka dot scrunchie, I have black hair…. yeah, definitely Minnie." Yep, that's how it was. Well, besides, it seems to me that the design of the ghost camera fits, and of course friendship with Mickey, he didn’t mention her when he talked about friends, right?)) Besides, Minnie doesn’t belong to any specific cartoon, but this means she can play the role of both a hero and a villain, so getting into the NRC may well be justified, smart;)

So, now just a little randomness about this gal, and, accordingly, me:

• ISFJ (I don’t know what for, but just if you’re interested)

• at first she thought about hiding her real gender, making up something, playing dress-up to become look like a boy. But on the very first day of school, she realized that it's unnecessary, if they didn’t like something, it's their problem

• Purchased the uniform from Sam, because seriously, where else can you find a uniform that is the perfect size? She had to beg for money from the headmage; you want the students to look diligent, so you pay.

•"So, where is my computer? Where is my tablet? Where is my pen? How can I survive without this mmm???)))"

• The first time she was in Twisted Wonderland she constantly had a headache, because in her world she was not used to being in the fresh air so often and moving so often.

• It's raining men!

• "How can boys be so tall at such a young age?! It's crazy!"

• Sometimes throws in phrases and references in her native language, just because she can.

• In fact, she was really surprised that practically (for the most part) no one bullies her for her lack of magic. Like, "if this was my world, I'd be an outcast by now, seriously, guys, aren't you going to make fun of me or what?!"

• Sometimes falls into philosophical thoughts, like “Why is someone constantly trying to prove their strength here… why doesn’t anyone understand that we are all students, which means we are all equal? ​​Especially these idiots from Savanaclaw-” (yup, I really hate these npc guys)

• "Soooo… I found myself in another world, where ghosts, fairies, magic are all real, before that I was riding in a black carriage and woke up in a coffin in a black robe… The mirror said that my soul does not belong anywhere and its there’s nowhere to return…Hmm.. Hmmmm..! Does this mean that in my world I’m already dea- Oh, look, pies are on sale!”

• "Should I start charging money to solve your problems?"

• "Why is it always something? Like it's literally always freaking something........"

• Had to learn to cook to survive. Well, mostly because Grim whines that he can’t live on just scrambled eggs and burnt fried potatoes lol.

• Would like to join the Mountain Lovers' Club, but remembered how in her world she constantly excused herself from trips to the mountains or family overnight stays in tents by the lake. Nah..

• She likes this interesting world, but still at night she cries into her pillow because she misses his mom so much :(

• “Actually, in my world, I had already graduated from college, received a diploma and was just looking for a job. And you say that I need to start studying again from the first year?!”

• haha silly mirror, a test on the internet told me that I should go to Scarabia 💅

• REALLY wants to know what's going on in her world while she's here. Literally thinks about this almost every day

• "Lol guys, did you know that your Great Seven are actually bad guys? No, no, nothing, just breaking the fourth wall"

If it weren't for Grim, she probably would have remained a janitor forever. Like, seriously, have you seen how often mc speaks compared to other students? Totally matches my social awkwardness.

•Really very interested in this world, its history and especially other schools. Like, really, if all this turns out to be a dream and she'll return to her gray world of high-rise buildings, then at least she'll have something to remember.

• "They call me just "Pola" for a reason. And the reason is... Says her full name, which to a non-native speaker sounds like a spell to summon a demon.

•"Hey guys, look what I found. A bowling ball." This is Chenya's head.

•"Deuce is asking for my opinion and does not forget about my presence and is happy when I cheer for him #BFF🥺" (we have the same birthday by the way)

•"Ehehee Pola Trappola ehuehe.......… Just kidding, jeez!"

Phew, that was silly, but I hope you found it interesting haha

[keenzinemugstudent]

Clark Kent x black thicc fem reader! Clark accidently walks on you changing and he stays to watch you.

⚠️Warning a bit of soft NSFW so if you a minor respectfully get tf out please⚠️

Clark was outside your apartment holding flower's repeating his apology in his head over and over again so he wouldn't mess up. He was supposed to take you out to the movies but he was busy which she understood completely until you showed up at his apartment only to see him and Lois in a lip lock. You'd been avoiding him since than, he tried to apologize countless times but she just said that it was fine and just ignore him whenever she had the chance. So here he was in front of your door holding your favorite flowers and snacks in hand to make up for the movie night.

"Okay Clark you can do this just knock on the door and hopefully she'll accept the apology." He took a deep breath in and knocked twice

"Y/n? It's me you home?" There was no answer he looked under her plant where there was a spare key that she gave him he was surprised it was still there seeing as how mad she's been at him he thought she'd threw it away. He unlocked the door stepping into the apartment it was clean and he could smell fresh made coffee and cookies. He set the flowers in chocolate down on the sofa trying to see if it could find you anywhere in the room that's when he heard your panicked voice coming from the bedroom.

"Oh my god!" He rushed over to see if you were okay he stopped and what he saw made me question his life.

"Diana I can't believe you got me this!" You said spinning around in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a black laced lingerie (🔝picture at the top🔝) which fit your body perfectly Clark hide behind the door feeling his face going warm this was a big surprise for him he was so used to seeing you in baggy clothes this was new.

"Think of it as an early birthday gift." He could hear Diana's voice over the phone. Your birthday was only in a couple of days but Diana away on business and wouldn't be back on time. Y/n squeals posing in front of the huge mirror. Clark just keep watching, feelings his breath go shallow and even unloosed his tie feeling like it was choking him which was impossible of course but still! Seeing his long time friend dressed in nothing but lingerie made it heard to breath. Of course he always thought you were a beautiful young woman but this was different from what he usually saw you wear. It bothered him but not in a bad way but lord have mercy he didn't know you had THAT kind of body! And the thoughts he was having about you wasn't helping!

"I'm surprised you were even able find any in my size Diana." You sat on the bed stretching your hands above your head to pop your back causing your breast to bounce a bit. Clark clenched his fist already feeling his pants tighten he watched you cross your smooth legs and as you reached a hand up to move a bit of braided hair from your face you weren't wearing makeup not that you needed it because he always thought you were beautiful.

"Well I had a bit of help from Bruce." Diana says teasing.

That bastard! Clark had a glare on his face from hearing that and seeing the blush on your face wasn't making it any better.

"Well uh tell him I said thanks I guess?"

"Haha I was just joking little one. I bet if I said it was a gift from Clark you'd be fine with it." Your blush got bigger which surprised Clark a lot.

"Speaking of Clark...I wonder if I should call him or not? I mean I've been avoiding him the whole week and I'm starting to feel bad about it Diana." The sad tone in your voice caused Clark to frown.

"Maybe send him a text?"

"And say what? 'Hey Clark sorry I've been avoiding you but hey I'm jealous that your girlfriend gets to kiss your delicious lips and not me!' Yeah that'll fix everything!" You yelled out falling backwards on the bed He let out a small chuckle, you thought his lips were delicious?

You got up from the bed and Clark watched your backside which made him let out a low groan in the back of his throat. Fuck he shouldn't be here. He needed to leave but his feet wouldn't move, all he could do was watch you go pick up a bag and pull up another set of lingerie this time it was red.

"Maybe if I'm lucky someone will get to see me wearing these." You blush at the idea with a shy smile, Clark leaned on the door way which caused the door to slightly open wide.

"Maybe that lucky someone will be the man of steel of himself. It would definitely surprise him."

Oh Diana didn't know how right she was, it definitely surprised the man of steel. Both women said goodnight to each other hanging up on both sides.

"Oh! That's right I have coffee and cookies downstairs a perfect time for a snack!" Before Clark could react you had already turned towards the door and stopped when you saw a familiar face.

"C-clark ?!" He froze he's been caught you stood there looking at him with shock and embarrassment looking around the room trying to find something to cover yourself with which was nothing but two small pillows to cover your chest and front bottom half.

"What are you doing here?!" You yelled at the red in the face reporter who was stuttering out to answer.

"I-i came to apologize, I knocked but you didn't answer."

"So you walked into my apartment?!"

"I used the spare key..." He looked down feeling guilty it was silent between the two you were the one to speak.

"How long...how long have you been standing there?"

"Since you thanked Diana for the gifts." She blushed dropping the pillows causing his eyes to go wide but quickly covered them.

"That's means you heard our whole conversation?!"

"Y-yes but-"

"No! No! No!"

You hid your face in your hands and in this very moment you wished a villain could crash through the apartment but then again you didn't want anyone else to see you in this type of clothing this whole situation was just embarrassing!

"I'm sorry I should leave..." just as he turned to leave your soft spoken voice stopped him on his tracks.

"W-wait!"

He turned to look at you as you let out a deep sigh removing your hands from your still red face walking towards him slowly hips moving as you walk he could only stand and watch as you get closer to him. When close enough you put your small hands on his chest moving up to his neck looking him straight in the eye.

"P-please don't leave... I want you too stay." he wanted to say no...move her away...tell her It was wrong he had to think about his relationship he tried to think about Lois but he could only think about you. You were the first person who found out about his secret and didn't tell anyone. You were there when he wanted to find his parents and supported him the most when his father died. The Zod innovation... being there for his mother when he died. He did love Lois but...

He noticed your lips getting closer to his, he also leaned down wanting a taste of your lips, but stopped himself it was wrong.

"Y/n...we shouldn't.." he said he didn't know if he was talking to you or to himself but you looked down shyly looking at his pants were there was tent.

"I think you want to stay Clark." You got on your toes to kiss his forehead...both his cheeks than the corner of his lips he let out a small sigh feeling your soft lips on his face than started to reach down to his neck he put his hands on your hips feeling how soft they were in his hands. It kept everything inside not to break to not pin you against the wall and have his way with you. He was so surprised because you were such a sweet and shy woman he didn't think he'd see you trying on lingerie and make a move on him, fuck!

"Clark?" He let out a hmm letting her know she had his full attention.

"Do you...do you want me to stop? I don't want to ruin our friendship or your relationship so please stop me from doing something stupid." you say looking up at his blue eyes both hands on his cheek's he starred into your eyes feeling conflicted about this. He could hear both his and your heart beating fast at the same rhythm, both were in sync wanting the same thing, he shook his head.

"I think...i think I should leave." When saying these words your face fell. He sighs gently kissing her hands.

"Your so beautiful Y/n...i want to so badly take you right here but God I-i can't it wouldn't be fair to you or to Lois..."

You have a nod looking down at the floor he saw a tear fall which made him feel even worse. He forced himself away from your body but that's when he felt his phone vibrate pulling it out, it was a message from Lois, she cancelled having dinner with him saying she was going out of town for a report which was gonna be a while month one she didn't bother telling him anything about! He clenched his phone almost breaking it that's when he heard your voice.

"Clark? Are you okay?" He removed his attention from the phone and back to you you had a cover over your figure and was giving him a worried look even after making her upset she still wanted to know if he was okay. The woman who's always been there for him and has admitted to having feelings for him for quite a while of time maybe his relationship with Lois was just a some part of him wanting to feel human or maybe as thank you he wasn't sure but he knew that he didn't want to leave you he wanted to stay here.

"......I've changed my mind." He watched as her beautiful eyes went wide and a cute blush form on her cheeks.

he took off his glasses setting them on the desk on his left side walking forward, gently grabbing your face wiping away the tears starting to appear.

"But what about Lois?" You say putting hands on his chest you were unsure about this you didn't like Lois but go you wanted Clark so much now was the perfect chance.

"Let's not think about her...just focus all your attention on me okay?" He says kissing her forehead, nose, cheeks than finally her lips causing her to let out a small gasp in shock he could feel her hands on his back grabbing on his shirt.

"W-wait Clark I'm... I've never-"

"Shh I know you've never done this before right?" You slowly nod, "well as an apology I'll make you feel amazing tonight I promise." You look at him before whispering an "okay" hands shyly on his belt buckle he gave a small smile than went back too kissing your lips walking into the bedroom closing the door behind them.

He was going to make up for everything that's he's put you through for both their sakes.

He'd have to thank Diana for the lingerie set later

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

I can't believe I fucking write....this I cannot believe I fucking write this omg I'm honestly blushing like crazy guys you don't understand how embarrassed I was while making this don't forget to comment I got to go cool down a bit

[odditycircus-2002]

Since your requests are open: could you do a fic about MK11 Fujin hearing the reader sing and he thinks it’s absolutely beautiful, so the reader does a mini concert with just him watching?

If you need certain songs to put into this, I got you:

A/N: Thank you for the songs and for my first fic request that doesn't involve my usual Mortal Kombat men! I hope I do Fujinn justice, as he seems like a chill dude. Oh! And for the song in this fic, I went with "The Voice" by Celtic Woman. I'd thought it would be fitting with its elemental lyrics. I'll also try to keep these requests as gender-neutral as possible unless specified otherwise.

The Voice

Being the god of the Wind came with many perks. Not only is Fujin granted with divine power, but also the ability to fly and ride on the winds to wherever he desires. Currently, the wind god has no specific location where he desires to reach. Fujin is currently content with riding the winds on a rare peaceful day in Earthrealm, with no sign of an upcoming attack from Outworld's inhabitants. That is until the demi-god caught wisps of a melody within his breeze. The melody carried soft notes with an almost haunting quality to it. Fujin eases his winds to a halt within a forest, waiting to hear more of the melody.

His patience is rewarded when he hears it dancing on the breeze again. Fujin judges by the volume of the music, its source isn't too far from him. With footsteps light as the wind he commands, the demi-god treks through the woods, the music becoming louder and clearer with each step he takes. Eventually, his search takes him to a clearing with some mostly smooth boulders in the center. On top of those boulders sat a young adult Earthrealmer plucking at the strings off a worn but loved fiddle. They occasionally would play some notes before following them by singing in possibly the most beautiful voice he's ever heard in all of his existence.

"I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain. I am the voice of your hunger and..."

The earthrealmer trails off before letting a huff of frustration which is when Fujin decided to make his presence known.

"Why did you stop?"

"Gah!"

You let out a shout in surprise, fumbling with your fiddle and bow as they almost fell from your arms. Fujin holds up his hands in a placating manner as he takes another step into the clearing with a soft expression on his face.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you,"

"Are you blind?"

You cut off the strange looking newcomer, taking in his bright pale eyes and long silver braid.

"Pardon?"

"Your eyes. They're really white as if you're blind. Are you?"

Fujin gives an amused grin.

"No and I am glad. Otherwise, I'd never get to see you sing err..."

"Y/N, the name's Y/N. Do you have one too stranger?"

You are quick to ask as you turn your head away from the tall and handsome newcomer, hoping he doesn't see your flustered expression.

"My name is Fujin."

The demi-godd decides to leave it at that, for now, not wanting to further surprise you and possibly drive you away by revealing his role as one of Earthrealm's divine protectors and god of the wind.

"So Fujin, you caught me at a bit of a bad time,"

"And why is that?"

Fujin gently asks. You look around at anything but the newcomer, while running your fingers along your bow.

"Well, I'm supposed to be composing a song. I have the notes but I don't quite have all the words."

"If it helps, your singing is very beautiful."

"Oh uhhh, thank you."

You blush as you start to absentmindedly pluck a few notes of your fiddle. Fujin is now just a few feet away from you, close but with respectable distance between you.

"I would like to listen to more of your work, if you'll allow it."

"Sure! Uh- I mean- I mean, sure. That would be wonderful. I could use a muse anyways."

You then stand up on your feet, realizing how you're only just slightly taller than Fujin with the platform beneath you. You dust yourself off, you then hop onto a higher boulder. After making a few adjustments with your fiddle's strings, you start to sing.

Fujin was fortunate enough to snatch snippets of your singing while he was riding the winds, but those pale in comparison to hearing you right in front of him. Your voice is strong and proud. It is ethereal and eerie. It is as if listening to the Elder gods sing themselves.

When you start to play your fiddle for the musical segment of your song, you jump down from your boulder to start skipping around the clearing. You almost appear to be floating on air, and actually do at one point, but you hardly notice as you're too engulfed by the music. Around you and Fujin, the wind starts to blow and picking up the fallen leaves, filling the clearing with a myriad of warm colors.

"I am the Voice of the past that will always be filled with my sorrows and blood in my fields!

I am the Voice of the future! Bring me your peace... Bring me your peace and my wounds... They will heal."

Throughout your mini concert, Fujin's gaze never wavered from your form as if trying to commit every move and gesture to memory. As you paint a rhapsody with your body but write a requiem with your song. At last, it comes to a stop and so the Demi-god does the only thing he could think to do and claps.

You give a beaming smile at Fujin before taking a pantomime bow.

"Thank you, thanks for being such a great audience and muse."

You then blow him a kiss.

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday!!

A not-so-little snippet of Elyse spending time with Dagny for my WIP today, with a little bit of Balgruuf! Not much else to say, honestly-!!! I'm hoping to get this chapter finished soon, and make some more progress on the next chapter which is. Well. Going to have some very cute moments with The Idiots :3

Tagged by @hircines-hunter yesterday, and will tag back today! Also tagging @thequeenofthewinter, @skyrim-forever, @oblivions-dawn, and anyone else who wants to share a WIP (but no obligations to share anything-!!!) And btw - if anyone? mutuals??? wants me to tag them in WIP posts or not please let me know - trying to figure out who to tag is what takes the longest when I make these WIP posts 😭

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“Can you hold onto your hair for a moment? Don’t move! I’m getting something quickly!” Dagny requested, dragging her out of her thoughts as she was made to take hold of her hair which was currently split into three strands and in the middle of being braided together. She watched as the girl ran over to a drawer, and pulled out what looked to be some flowers which had been dried out and preserved. “These will do!”

When Dagny returned, she took the strands of hair back from Elyse, but made her hold onto the small bundle of flowers. Every once in a while, as she resumed the braiding, she would ask for one of the flowers to weave into the braid, and she did it so quickly and so deftly it almost stunned Elyse.

“I... don’t often get time like this. To do things that I like,” Dagny eventually whispered once the final flower had been weaved in, before taking the hair tie from Elyse’s wrist and starting to wrap it around the end of the braid. “I don’t care about weapons like Frothar does. I don’t even know what Nelkir does for fun, but he always tells me to leave him alone. And Father is always busy... He’ll find time to get me some nice clothes, or nice food... But I can’t spend much time with him.” Her eyes fell to the ground, and she sighed. “I do like spending time with Mila and Braith... But they say that I’m ‘different’ to them. That... because father is the Jarl, I’ve got more money and privileges than them.”

Elyse was quite surprised to hear such an honest statement from Dagny. It was a surprisingly earnest self-reflection to come from her, given how she had been speaking and behaving until that point.

In a sudden change back to her usual behaviour, Dagny clapped her hands together and gestured for her to stand. “Come on, up on your feet! My mirror is heavy, and I don’t want to drag it over – I want to know what you think of my handiwork.”

Elyse was stunned as she stared at her reflection in Dagny’s mirror. She would almost never put her hair into a braid, it was always far too much hassle, yet seeing it like that, draped over her shoulder... Perhaps Dagny did have a point about her hair making her look older in its usual style. Not that it would deter her from her bun, it was functional and reliable, and much less likely to get in her way like that. But perhaps in her free time in the future... Perhaps she would try not to always have her hair like that.

She turned towards the girl, and smiled. “It’s lovely, Dagny. Thank you.”

Seemingly pleased with the reaction, Dagny brought her hand up to her chin. “I think that I’ll let you off with the clothes, because you’re obviously not going to fit into any of my dresses… So...” She quietly hummed. “I know! We’ll go to into the city and do some shopping! I could do with a new dress… and you definitely do.”

Once more, Elyse felt Dagny take hold of her arm to get her to move, though thankfully she only held on long enough to make sure that she was actually following. She honestly wasn’t the biggest fan of wearing dresses, they were more of a special occasion thing for her – but if it appeased her at the very least by tagging along, then she would play along. Besides… Dagny did seem to be delighted at having somebody to spend time with from Dragonsreach… she didn’t have anyone close to her who could have joined her to do these sorts of things with, beyond her few friends. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make, even if it wasn’t really her thing.

They began to make their way towards the main doors of Dragonsreach, but when they had just made their way past the fire pit in the middle of the main hall, Dagny gasped and turned around. “Wait a minute! I need to talk to father quickly!”

Elyse turned on her heel and followed the girl.

Not caring that Balgruuf appeared to be in the middle of a conversation with Farengar, Dagny rushed over to her father and cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned to face her briefly, to tell her to wait for a minute, though she appeared to not like that and started tapping her foot as she folded her arms over. Elyse let out a quiet sigh at the girl’s stubbornness.

After a few moments, Farengar pinched at his nose, and began to make his way back to his study. Balgruuf had barely been able to take a breath after that conversation before Dagny was stood in front of him. “Father, I’m going into the city with Elyse. Can I have some money?”

Balgruuf stared at her for a moment, raising his eyebrow at the request for money. “Dagny, you know that I can’t keep giving you money to spend – I told you that you needed to make the money that I gave you at the festival last. Did you spend it all on cakes and accessories?”

“I wouldn’t be asking for some if I had any left.”

A loud sigh escaped Balgruuf as he folded his arms over and shook his head. “I can’t give you any, Dagny. At any other time I would, but right now I am not able to. I’m sorry,” he stated, before lowering his arms, ruffling Dagny’s hair as he did so. Dagny let out a huff as she ran her hand back through the strands to neaten it back out.

“Just because you don’t have money doesn’t mean that we can’t go and look at things, Dagny,” Elyse piped up at this point, drawing the attention of both father and daughter. “You could always just show me some of your favourite places in the city and we can go back there in the future.”

“I suppose we could do that…” Dagny mumbled, disappointment in her voice. She then turned her head back towards Balgruuf. “We will be back later, Father.” She then fully turned around to face him when he didn’t respond, and frowned. He hadn’t moved since they had turned to look at Elyse as she had spoken. “Father?” And after a few more moments with no response, she reached up and started snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Father! Did you hear me?! We will be back soon!”

Balgruuf blinked for a moment, then brought his hands to his face and ran them down it. “Y-Yes, apologies, Dagny. There’s just a lot on my mind right now, I heard you…” He exhaled quietly. “Stay safe out there, both of you.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Wiggly Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

I was tagged by @matchingbatbites and @just-my-latest-hyperfixation on previous wiggly wednesday posts but I really haven't been having many new thoughts... UNTIL TODAY THAT IS

this week i've been thinking a lot about a (st)eddie fallout au.

i've been thinking about sole survivor!steve who marries a whip smart lawyer at the request (demand) of his and her parents once it's found out the harrington name can't keep him out of the war.

they shove the two together, she ends up pregnant just like their families wanted, and once back from the front lines, he tries his damndest to settle into his new life with his new family (and brand new son, Dustin, the goddamn light of his life), only for the bombs to drop.

on the other side of things is ghoul!eddie who served in alaska but lost half his leg and was sent home (he has since fitted an assaultron leg in its' place).

i think it'd be hilarious if he somehow finds a wig almost exactly like his old hair but that's a little worse for wear so he sews it into the lining of a black cowboy hat (they're practical alright?) and every time he meets someone he sweeps his hat off into a bow in an effort to make them laugh when his winkled bald head makes an appearance.

Steve, who leaves vault 111 and heads out from sanctuary soon after he realizes Codsworth doesn't have much to tell him about where that blond motherfucker had taken his infant son.

he heads into concord with his old baseball bat fitted with some new rusty nails and a german shepard trailing along behind him.

he sneaks around through the side streets to get past the majority of raiders who have backed a group of people into the old museum, but runs smack into one of them, a woman about his age (well, how old he'd been when he was frozen, goddamn vault-tec bastards) with her choppy, dirty blonde hair shaved nearly down to the scalp on one side.

"Wait! Please, don't kill me." she says, immediately dropping the scuffed up 10mm she'd been holding.

He studies her, then their surroundings, his military training kicking back in, but he doesn't hear anyone nearby... this isn't a trap?

"Please, they killed off my family and I either had to join them or they'd kill me too."

He looks her over, grabs her arm and pulls her under a dilapidated set of stairs, "How many are inside?"

"At least four adults, maybe a kid too."

"A kid?! are you serious?!"

"They're raiders! What do you expect!"

Steve huffs, does another scan, "Okay, c'mon, we can get through them, right? Can you shoot that thing?" he gestures with his chin to where her gun still lays.

She rolls her eyes, "Of course I can, dingus. You think I'd've survived this long if I couldn't?"

She scoots out from under the steps, Steve's "How should I know?!" following her trail of dust.

"I'm Robin, by the way."

"Steve." he says, standing too and hefting his bat onto his shoulder "Now let's go!"

-x-

They get through the museum, looting every possible thing they can from Robin's 'Friends' as they go, all the way to where the survivors have barricaded themselves.

The door opens easily, to Steve's surprise, he'd thought they'd ask more questions, but when the sawed-off is pointed into Robin's face, he thinks otherwise.

"Hey! Whoa! We just saved you!"

"What do you want, a sweet roll? She's a raider." the woman says, face pinched, hair tied back tight.

"She was a raider." Robin says, hands still raised.

"Wheeler, let 'em through, you know damn well they just saved our asses."

The woman, Wheeler, apparently, drops her weapon and lets them through to their hiding place.

There are, in fact, four adults and a kid. Though 'kid' in this case is a gangly 15/16 year old with dark hair.

Along with him and Wheeler, there's also a man with with a long braid down the center of his back and caramel colored skin, and a pale man with disheveled, choppy hair of his own. Well, more disheveled than Steve figures he normally'd be.

"It's only a matter of time before more of 'em come." A brusque man, sat onto the little couch in one corner with his leg extended in front of him, continues. "We need more fire power. We need that damn minigun."

"You have a minigun?"

"Yeah, it's in my pocket, lemme just---" the man rolls his eyes after miming reaching into the pocket of his grubby jeans, "It's on the roof, and we cant really use it unless we have that power armor too."

Steve knew grabbing that fusion core from the basement earlier would be useful.

"I've got it. Which is the door to the roof?"

"You need a fusion core, dumbass." the teenager says.

"There's one in the basement if you--"

"I've already got it." Steve says, "Which way to the roof?"

-x-

He doesn't have a single clue what the fuck that thing was, but he killed it, and now their group is heading back to Sanctuary.

The guy with the braid, Argyle, says that he saw the perfect place to settle in in a vision, ("A fucking Jet-fueled vision." Wheeler grumbles, not at all convinced the place Argyle is talking about even exists.) and asks Steve and Robin for their help in getting there.

"Yeah, sure," he says, voice coming out tinny through the power armor's old helmet speaker. "I think I saw a place to the north that sounds just like that."

So he does, taking up the rear as Hopper, the big man with the mustache, limps along at the front with his injured leg on one side and Wheeler on his other.

Robin takes a spot in front of him as the teen, Mike, has taken the spot to his right that Steve keeps feeling like Robin should fill the longer they walk. He should ask her to come with him to find Dustin.

"What's it like in there, can you see? That thing really took a bite outta your arm, can you fix it?" more and more questions about Steve's armor that he does his best to answer without getting short.. but he's damn fuckin' tired.

They hobble into Sanctuary just as the sky begins to lighten; Wheeler starts off along the riverbank with her rifle in hand as soon as they cross the bridge, the other man, Jonathan, helping Hopper the rest of the way up the hill to the house Argyle points out to him; it's the Smiths' house, two doors down from his own.

Steve, however, trudges along at 10% power, all the way to the carport of the Johnsons' home, the yellow one across from his and Nora's.

He doesn't know why they suddenly have a power armor station here, but he's glad for it and for Robin following him to the stand.

"Hook one of those chains though each of the hooks on my shoulders? That way I can hoist this thing up after I get out."

She does, he punches the release, and groans as he back out of the contraption.

-x-

They spend the next couple days helping the settlers get settled into sanctuary, but Steve's itching to get out of this place, to find his boy.

Robin, now free of her ratty raider garb, jumps at the opportunity to go with him and the shepherd Argyle's taken to calling Dogmeat. So, after a cryptic lead from Argyle to find the heart glowing in the great green jewel, they head out.

One or five adventures later, Steve and Robin arrive at the giant green walls of Fenway Park.

"Ah Diamond City, she'll have answers, I'm sure."

"Are you serious? Diamond City is in Fenway? That's just perfect." Steve shakes his head, "The walls must come in handy at least."

"Uh, yeah, it's why everyone wants to get in." She says, gesturing to a woman outside the gate that's arguing with an intercom.

"Dammit Powell, you can't just kick me out, I live here!"

"Sorry Joyce, Brenner isn't happy with what you've been saying about him."

"So you just lock me out? My kid's in there! Let me in, dammit!"

The woman looks up as Steve and Robin approach, "Hey, you two, you wanna get in?"

Steve looks up at the big metal gate that's been affixed to the stadium, "Uh.. yes?"

"Okay, then play along," she whispers.

-x-

Joyce manages to get the gate opened, the Mayor of the town meeting them at the turnstiles and fighting with himself on coming off hostile to Joyce, but trying to seem welcoming to the newcomers.

He drops it eventually, lets them through, but the whole interaction is already nagging at Steve. He should get Joyce to move back to Sanctuary.. after they've gotten settled a bit more, at least.

She's sweet to them, gives them supplies, calls Steve 'Blue' ("Because of your suit, hon." Oh yeah.. he should get some new underclothes too, huh?), and sends them off to Valentine Detective Agency, the only place she knows that could possibly be the 'glowing heart' of Diamond City.

The two get Nick out of Vault 114 at the behest of his secretary, break into Creel's old house in the stands with Robin's stellar lockpicking skills, and are hot on Dogmeat's heels soon after, arriving at Steve's old musterpoint before the bombs dropped, Fort Hagan.

They fight through waves of laser-gun wielding robots, that Robin calls 'gen 2s', all the way trough the Fort only Steve knows was named after the father of an old friend of his.

The blonde bastard that Steve remembers seeing down in 111 bears so little resemblance to the deep fried looking piece of shit standing before him now, that he almost doubts what Valentine told him, but tall, viney, and creepy's monologue clears some of it up at least. Something called FEV causing his ghoulification to speed up..

Steve can't make hide nor hair of it.

Robin explains it to him after, the existence of ghouls at least, she's not sure what the fuck FEV is, while they're camped out on the roof of Fort Hagan, watching the goddman Prydwen float across the sky.

"They're people, most of 'em from your time, some from after, but they all get wrinkly and stuff. Noses fall off, all that."

"Are they the same zombie things that always try to kill us?"

"Yeah," she sighs, "All ghouls turn feral eventually."

-x-

They make their way back to Diamond City, telling Nick what they saw, what they pulled from Creel's busted open head.

"Y'know, I've got a friend in Goodneighbor that might be able to help with this. You two rest up, use Ellie's bed too if ya need to. She's out for the next couple days."

-x-

The trio head out the next day, arriving with little fanfare in Goodneighbor late that night.

They get through the gate, only to be accosted by some guy in leather pants and a leather jacket.

“Newcomers, huh? Y’get insurance yet?”

“Back off man, I don’t have time for this.” Steve says, stepping forward.

The guy pulls a knife brandishing it way too close to Steve’s gut. “Sounds like you don’t, newbie.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, man. Finn. What’d I tell you about this insurance shit?” The husky voice comes from behind this Finn character, and Steve turns his attention to the possible new threat.

It was a ghoul; Clunky boots, dusty black denim jeans, a leather jacket of his own, and a head of long, curly brown hair under a black cowboy hat.

“This ain’t none’a your business, Munson.” The brute says, turning his attention to the ghoul.

Munson saunters forward, “C’mon, Finn, no love for your Mayor?” He reaches a hand up and out, grabbing hold of Finn’s shoulder, then in a flash, grabs a knife from the holster on his thigh Steve failed to notice, and has plunged the blade deep into his gut.

Finn sputters, then drops to the ground, dead.

"I've always hated that guy." Munson says, then turns his attention to the trio, "Hey you three, Nicky, been a while."

"Yeah yeah, how are ya, Eddie?"

Eddie Munson the ghoul shrugs his shoulders, "Can't complain. How c'n I help ya? Any friend of Nicky's is a friend of mine."

"We're here to see Amari," Nick says, pushing forward and heading towards an alley past the Old Statehouse.

"Very well, Nicky dear," Eddie says, reaching for his hat and pulling it off his head to dip into a bow.

The sight startles a laugh out of Steve; Eddie's whole head of hair had come off with the hat, only wrinkled skin bare to the lamplight around them. Robin cringes, shaking her head and following Nick.

Eddie looks up at Steve's laugh, grinning wide as he passes, "Pleased to be the reason for a sound so sweet," he nods down into a bow again, then pulls straight, flipping his hat (and hair) back onto his head by the brim. With one, dark brown eye, Eddie winks at him, then turns back to the Statehouse.

-x-

And so, Robin and Steve continue on their adventures.

Hopper has been making strides to revitalize his group of minutemen, trying their damndest to help the people of the Commonwealth get back on their feet.

Joyce and her younger son reunite with her oldest in Sanctuary and she and Hopper definitely have something going on.

The eventually come across The Railroad, a group of people trying to help Gen 3 synths escape The Institute, led by a woman named Christine.

They cracked the code on their catacomb bunker (not that fuckin' hard if your make your password RAILROAD), and are stopped in their tracks by three women. Well, at least one is a woman...seriously, what's with these random teenagers running around with guns??

Whatever. The one with the shaved head is somehow holding a fuckin' minigun all on her own, the redhead on the other side of who must be the leader here has a sleek-looking comabt rifle, and the one in the center, the older one, says "Stop right there."

"We come in peace."

"How'd you find us?"

"Well, you've been leaving holotapes everywhere, it seems like.. so we just followed the Freedom Trail here like you wanted...?"

"You just guessed the password then?"

"Uh... yeah."

Another person enters then, another teenager. His complexion making it seem like he stepped clear out of the shadow on the wall behind him.

"Who are you? Lucas," the woman says, "I need intel. Who are these two?"

"You haven't heard of the Twinsters, Chris?"

"The Twinsters?" Steve and Robin repeat at the same time.

"Coined it myself," Lucas says with a grin, "Twin Twister; These two can tear into a town and within an hour have it cleared of ghouls, raiders, supermutants, you name it. You guys are twins aren't you?"

"Yes." they say in tandem, not giving it another thought. It's as good an explanation as anything for how close they've become.

"And you vouch for them?" Chris asks Lucas.

"One hundred percent. We could definitely use them on our team."

"And we really need your help, we have a courser chip, and we were told you could decrypt it?" Robin asks, interrupting whatever Chris was going to say.

Chris looks back at Robin, pauses a moment, then nods. "We'll see what we can work out.

ANYWAY before i get too lost in the sauce about this even more; Steve and Eddie start hooking up and Eddie's just as suave as Hancock is but nerdier, they take down the Prydwen and Elder Carver, Lucas El and Max visit Sanctuary as often as they can and make fast friends with Mike and Will along with Dustin once Steve gets him back from the institute after everything, Hop gets dadopted by El, Buckingham endgame, maybe jargyle and ronance too? but Steddie is the endest of game lmao

please enjoy this v basic moodboard the end