#it feels like the fall release window is still windowing :D

[tojisun]

simon riley x f!reader - smut; hinted d/s dynamics; oral but like—

messy.

so, so messy, but simon’s cowed by his admiration that he bypasses the way your drool slips past your mouth, staining your chin and mussing up your white button up, making the thin fabric go sheer as it sticks onto your skin in something that is truly so hypnotic.

it’s hot — this is hot.

the way you can barely give a proper head, all lips and spit, is hot. and simon knows that you are not used to being the giver; that you’ve been with a lot of partners who have spoiled you — simon still remembers the first time, and how there is something experienced in the way you gripped his hair and tugged him into your core, whining as his breath tickled your sensitive folds. you were never expected to give back and simon is fine with that. simon is perfectly fine to keep the tradition; to overwrite your past experiences with his tongue, but you begged.

you had asked so nicely, so politely, if he could fuck your throat. you were hesitant, not shy about it though, and asked as you batted your eyelashes if simon could pretty please teach you. use you. ruin you. and who is simon to deny that?

the drive to his flat was a blur but here you are now, slobbering all over his cock, not knowing when to swallow in more of him without grazing your teeth along the sensitive underside of his length, not knowing when to suck without choking.

but oh how your efforts endear him.

you’re so desperate for it, cheeks all splotchy as you cry because of course. a spoiled brat like you would fall into subspace just at the act of being put on your knees. it had been too easy, too quick — all it took were crooned words and simon’s hand cupping your cheek before you trembled and succumbed into the calling.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he murmurs, feeling feverishly warm. the windows are all fogged up, the heater is blasted high, and sweat pools from his temple but simon doesn’t dare stop you. it’s not the nicest head he’s ever received but damn if it isn’t the hottest. if it isn’t the best.

it’s intoxicating — seeing you try so hard like simon would ever love you less for not knowing how to suck a dick.

there is… power in this. and simon is drunk on it. and simon is heady because of it.

and simon, cock painfully hard, wants to cum.

“s’good f’r me, love. so beautiful. so perfect.” his voice curls, rumbling into a pleasured moan. he pinches your chin, drawing you to look up. the action pulls out his cock from where the head was nestled in the back of your throat, leaving it to rest on the top of your tongue.

“m’gonna cum,” simon utters, and he sounds awed and broken. “an’ you’ll swallow it all f’r me, won’t you, pretty?”

a hum pulses around his cock in reply and simon hisses, eyes squeezing close for a heartbeat as it almost catapults him into his release.

jesus.

love really does make everything feel good.

“fuck, baby,” he rasps out, chest heaving, his sweaty hair all matted into his skin. “god. y’ready f’r it?”

you nod, a desperate little thing, before sniffling as tears continue to pour from your pretty eyes. simon can’t help it and he croons, something that is almost a little mean, but please don’t blame him? he’s at the precipice of his ecstasy, so close that it is bloating in the underside of his belly, ready for the fever to break.

he pulls out even more, his cock all shiny from your spit, and leaves just the head resting on the inside of your lips. you curl them readily around him, anyway, before sucking lazily. the soft curl of your tongue teases his slit, and your eyes, unwavering as they gaze upon him, crinkle in delight, and this.

this is what makes him cum.

he goes with a hissed cuss, his hands gripping the sides of your head as he tips his own back in the explosion of his pleasure. it’s like a punch in his gut, a sort of ripping that is resonating through him in cataclysmic waves.

god. fuck. damn it.

this is.

too good.

just—

the storm surge dies and simon dances into his consciousness again. he feels so heavy, so relaxed, and when he turns to meet your gaze again, he can’t really blame himself for the startled twitch in his dick because you’ve dropped his cock, leaving your mouth open to show him how full it is of his spunk.

then, you close your maw and swallow with a delighted hum.

simon shouldn’t really be surprised because you’ve always begged for his cum, but seeing it gulped this way instead of being pumped in your pussy makes his already-parched throat dry up even more.

“c’mere,” he grunts out, before desperately pulling you to his lap to kiss you. he devours your quiet laughter, tongue meeting tongue, and tastes himself with every swipe.

“s’your turn,” you gasp out on his lips. “wanna cum now, please.”

“yeah,” simon rumbles, his big hands moving from your hips to your ass, one dipping even lower to press at the wet spot of your bare pussy.

“i’ve got you,” simon whispers amidst your impatient mewls. “i’ve got you now.”

[blackcat-star]

Criminal!Jinwoo x reader Warning: Murder, blood mention. Song lyrics: Criminal - Britney Spears.

"According to the report from the city police department, there has been another murder recently, the murderer has been identified as 'The Ghost', who has been responsible for many recent murders...."

Raindrops hit the house windows as they fell. The living room stayed dim while only the television screen provided light.

"The victim is Kim Min-seok. The police discovered that Kim runs a drug trafficking network that operates between different countries. The police have not determined who killed Kim Min-seok. Public opinion..."

You settled into the sofa with your legs crossed while observing the TV screen. Your hands naturally held the hot coffee.

The female TV announcer continued to speak in her normal tone throughout the broadcast.

Another murder had occurred. You couldn't remember how many this month, it was clearly quite a few. It seems like every 1-2 days, another person is murdered.

You mumble, "I don't understand... Why should we feel sorry for those criminals? They don't even deserve to live. He's clearly doing things that the police can't do..."

Serial killer - 'The Ghost' has his own principles. In most cases where he is believed to be the perpetrator, the victims are other criminals. For example, heinous criminals who have not been discovered, notorious gang leaders, and the scum of society who have been released thanks to bribes...

It's clear that  'The Ghost' is acting on behalf of heaven.

Even though deep down, you know that punishing criminals is the duty of the law and the state. If this situation continues, the situation will be very chaotic. The 'Ghost's' actions may make people happy, but they disregard the law. If everyone is like this, the law will no longer matter and the country will be unstable.

You can't help but feel indignant.

Not only because the victims were all criminals who committed heinous crimes, but also because...

The murderer that the whole city feared...was your lover.

Sung Jinwoo.

________________________________

He is a hustler, he's no good at all

He is a loser, he's a bum, bum, bum, bum

________________________________

You never thought you would fall in love with Jinwoo, you never thought you would fall in love with a criminal.

You used to have a normal life, never involved in the underworld, never involved in blood, never involved in darkness.

But that changed since you met him.

It was on a fateful night.

At that time, the city of Seoul was always bright and cheerful, or at least it appeared so. There was no disturbance, the flow of people was still bustling, the peace of the city was still maintained stably.

But in reality, in the alleys in the hidden corners of Seoul, shadows had begun to grow and gradually prepared for 'purification'.

It was pouring rain. You just wanted to go home after a tiring day at the office. Just sitting in one place and staring at the computer screen made your body feel heavy.

You trudged home. The path to your apartment felt more shadowed than normal yet your mind might have created the effect.

The sound of rain mixed with a faint groan startled you.

You came to a halt before noticing him.

A man rested against the wall while breathing hard with one hand pressed to his stomach and blood flowing to the ground.

You normally stayed away from these situations because you feared problems would arise.  You were sure he was probably involved in the underworld or some gang. You could have chosen to ignore him and go home.

But for some reason, you knelt down next to him. Your instinct was to flee but you extended your hands to hold the man's stomach.

"D-Don't touch me. Go home..." his voice was hoarse, weak, but still dangerous and warning.

You didn't listen. In that moment, the recent warnings on TV, about being careful when walking at night, because of several murders that had occurred around your neighborhood.

You now saw only a dying man in front of you.

"You can't die here.." you whispered, and before your brain could process your actions, you picked him up and carried him back to your apartment.

The black-haired man, although injured, still looked at you sharply.

"You know that there have been several murders recently....I'm the murderer, aren't you afraid of me..?"

You knew you should be afraid, should stay away from him.

Looking deeply into his eyes revealed a lost spirit stuck in eternal darkness.

"I-I don't know." You should have escaped but you chose to stay instead.

The moment you met him you understood your world would never stay the same. You entered darkness and understood you could never escape it.

___________________________

He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable

He is a sucker with a gun, gun, gun, gun

___________________________

Suddenly you felt the empty space next to you sink, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his embrace forcefully.

You knew who it was.

Your lover was back.

The clock hands had just passed twelve. The rain had not stopped yet. He still had the damp smell of rain on him, and a faint smell of iron.

You knew that after he killed someone, he would shower before he came to see you, he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. But it seemed that the smell of blood had penetrated his skin, making it impossible to completely disappear.

And it seemed that you were getting used to it.

Jinwoo put one hand around your waist, rubbing the curves of your body.

He took off his leather gloves, put them on the table slowly, then wrapped both arms around you, pulling you closer to him. Your back pressed against his strong chest.

Jinwoo decided to stay quiet without speaking. He held you in a soft but firm hug as he brought you closer. He bowed his head and buried it in your hair while breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

"Did you kill someone again?" A question popped out of your mouth, but you already knew the answer.

He didn't answer, just closed his eyes, then hummed softly through your hair.

He tilted his head, moving down to your neck, placing light kisses on it.

"Do you hate me?" His voice was hoarse, speaking between kisses.

His ebony hair lightly brushed against your chin, along with the light kisses on your neck, making you feel itchy. You giggled, then shook your head slightly. "You know clearly that I cannot"

Jinwoo laughed softly as he showed signs of tiredness through his smile. He leaned back against the sofa armrest to support himself as you relaxed on top of him. His hands still didn't leave your waist.

Silence filled the room. There was only the sound of the news bulletin board still showing the news of the day, and the slow breathing of the two people lying on the sofa.

You were used to this.

Jinwoo had never revealed his true self to you.

He was not a hero, nor a demon.

He was just the only one willing to take action.

He was only dealing with those who the law had not yet reached.

You kissed his cheek lightly, then placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"I don't hate you... I'm worried about you."

Jinwoo didn't say anything, but his arms tightened. In that moment, there was no 'Ghost', nor a serial killer.

There was only you and him.

That was the only thing you cared about right now.

__________________________

But mama I'm in love with a criminal

And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical

_________________________

I'm not criticizing the law, this is just a plot, no bad intentions.

[jerbunni]

Lycaon x Reader - As You Wish

So, y'know, Lycaon's not exactly human. If you're into that, heyy you're eating well tonight. If not, I'll make it up to you. Hope you enjoy. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MINORS DNI . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Tags: Anthro, knotting, little plot, vaginal, 18+, smut Summary: Though your guardians hired a bodyguard, his duties often end up extending overtime.

The master of Victoria Housekeeping wanted nothing more than to keep their precious daughter safe. And, of course, with a surplus of wealth came the best bodyguards money could buy. Little did they know their daughter would take a particular interest in one very capable bodyguard-- Von Lycaon. 

Never would your guardians have known that keeping you safe included keeping you "company" during lonely nights. Which, of course, entailed...

“L-Lycaon…” you’d whine, sprawled out on your sheets with his cold, wet nose pressed snugly against your clit.

“T-The others… w-we can’t… this is wrong…”

With a soft growl, your bodyguard dismisses your concerns with a long stripe against your entrance, your essence smearing across his tongue. 

"Has that stopped you before?"

You shudder in response, sighing out a shaky whine. Your hand reaches for his head, encouraging his licks by ruffling his fur. Your morals conflict with your actions, but you can’t help but give in; he just feels so good. 

The closer you get to your release, the tighter your legs cage around his head, his soft tufts of fur tickling your skin and coercing a smile from you. Though he attends to your every need, bodyguard duties or otherwise, tonight’s the first night when he stops right before your sweet release. 

“Lycaon…” you huff. You're throbbing with anticipation.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, prying your thighs off him with his large paws, “But I’ve become impatient, master.”

Your brows furrow at the nickname, “S-Since they’re not here… you can call me by my name.”

“Would that make you happy?”

You nod in response, cheeks flushed with red. 

His paws curl around your legs once he gets up to position himself at the end of your bed, and with one swift motion, he drags you towards where he stands. 

His naked figure is one you always find yourself marveling at. It’s no surprise he’s toned with all the combat he finds himself in, but the tufts of white fur peaking through his humanoid figure accentuates his body to another level. 

You watch as his member throbs before you, the moonlight peaking through your window illuminating his snow-like mane. He’s painted oh-so beautifully. And he’s all yours. 

Keeping one hand held around your thigh, Lycaon uses his other to direct his length to your core. And, with gentle rubs, he coats himself in your slick. 

“Lycaon… please, I need to cum… d-don’t tease me,” you beg, legs shaking with anticipation.

“But of course, my dear.”

He presses the tip of himself against your entrance, and with one slow and steady push, he drives himself past his knot and bottoms out inside you. 

You moan out his name, your voice wavering as you emphasize the last few vowels. He hushes you in response, his thumb caressing the skin of your plush thighs, “Yes, yes…”

He stills himself as you adjust to his size, though you feel his patience growing thinner as your walls flutter around his length. Instinctually, his hips buck into you, making your back arch. His length fits within you perfectly.

“Y/N…”

Though his tone indicates a warning, it's laced with need.

With a soft groan, you nod. You're perfect. It's the answer he was looking for-- a silent response to use your body till he's content.

It’s then that he finally lets himself free, his hips crashing against yours with reckless abandon. With each muted plap of skin against fur, his movement becomes more rampant, more wild, more desperate.

Your fingers fold into the blankets below you, bare chest rising and falling in sync with his movements. You’re so dizzy, so lightheaded, so close to cumming.

It's when his padded thumb presses heavy, tight circles against your clit, that you find yourself spilling overboard.

Your pussy gushes around his length, your juices dampening the tufts of fur surrounding the base of his cock. Loud whines escape you as your body becomes overtaken with convulsions and an overwhelming sense of pleasure. You don’t care if you’re loud, you don’t care if the other bodyguards in Victoria Housekeeping hear you, you’re too focused on how wonderful he makes you feel. 

It’s now, with your cushy, sopping, walls spasming around his length that he picks up the pace, reminding you of just how powerless you are beneath him despite your status. 

“Y/N…” He whines. 

His hand unlatches from your thigh, and he leans into you, using his forearms to hold himself steady on the mattress while simultaneously caging you underneath him. His cold, wet snout nudges against your cheek, and it’s here that his heavy breaths become more prevalent than ever. Soft whines and groans escape him, a noise only audible from this distance. 

“If I may…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand his request. You hook your arms over his neck, trapping him just as he did with you. The fur protruding from his collar sticks to you as you nod your head. You’re becoming overstimulated with the way his tip bullies up into your favorite little spongy spot, and it’s not long before you’re close to coming again.

“M-Mhmm! Y-You may…” You squeak out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

You didn’t think he'd become any more intense, but his hips move at an unforgiving pace, every thrust resulting in a whine or huff from you. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s rutting into you, shaky and inconsistently. Soon enough, you feel strings of hot white spurt inside you. His fur puffs up, and the knot within you swells, preventing his seed from leaking. You belong to him.

His pants are unsteady, meanwhile, you’re trembling, and it takes the two of you a few quiet moments to catch your breath. It’s during the aftermath of your afterglow that your guilt from before finally catches up with you. 

“Y-You think the others heard?” You ask in a whisper. 

He pries away from your grasp, tired, red eyes gazing into yours, “N-No. The manor’s too grand for them to have heard you.”

Even in moments like these, he’s been able to keep a rational mind. Or, well, you know, semi-rational. Certainly wasn't when he filled you...

“Are you gonna sleep with me tonight?” 

“I shouldn’t, Y/N, it’ll draw too much suspicion…” 

You can’t help but display your disappointment on your face with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. As much as he wants to, he knows it’d be too risky. 

“Please,” he continues, a placing a tender kiss upon your cheek, “Don’t be upse-”

“No!” You interject, “Safety first, happiness second. And I feel safe enough already, so please…”

He really shouldn’t be doing this… You really shouldn’t be doing this…

With a soft sigh, Lycaon makes himself comfortable beside you, still connected by knot. 

“As you wish...”

[weirdogirl888]

morning sex with donnie blurb

warnings: somophillia, dubcon if you squint, pnv, nipple play, afab reader, unprotected sex, donnie's a loving perverted boyfriend

wc: 1.2k (might’ve gotten a lil carried away lol

a/n: ending sucks cuz i got lazy, hope u enjoy none the less. requests are always open

donnie loves the sight of you sleeping in his bed. your nighty shrugging off from a deep night's sleep. the sleeve fully off the shoulder, just barely revealing your breasts with your hard nipples visibly poking through. you look so peaceful, so innocent. so hot.

it's not donnie's fault he's a boy with the insufficient plague of morning wood. and it's also not his fault his girlfriend is sleeping soundly looking like a beautiful stone statue in his bed.

she deserves something for looking this pretty. he thought to himself, in a delusional idea of an excuse to lean down and gently kiss your soft lips. he left a trail of kisses from your cheek to your collarbone, while he stopped and gave one last look at your unconscious face before slipping the remnants of your silk night down to your stomach.

he gulped and gave a shutter until he moved his large hand and started groping the soft mounds of fat. eyes staring into your closed lids, looking for any sign of a reaction, which wasn't visible. from the way last night went, he knew you'd be hard to wake. especially so early in the morning with the fall sunrise coming early but just as beautiful from his attic window.

donnie decided to test his luck and get on top of you, boxers already forgotten, he gets more bold and starts sucking on your boobs one at a time. leaving both in a sloppy reddened mess. he dotted hickies all down your stomach for a surprise you'd see in the morning. thankfully the autumn weather prevented you from wearing a bikini any time soon, a factor he took gratefully.

when he slid your cotton white panties off your smooth legs, he was met with a wet mess. much like his cock that was leaking precum just from touching you. maybe it was the adrenaline rush and thrill of getting this far with you still unaware.

he slowly swiped his fingers up your warm pussy and slid them into his mouth, his other arm being used as a prop on the bed for his body weight as he loomed over you.

"you taste so sweet, baby. Are you sure you can't feel any of this? I think you're just pretending to sleep. Do you get off to boys touching your unconscious body? god, you really are fucked up." he said slowly spreading your legs, lining up his shaft with your dripping entrance.

"it's okay-." he shoved his entire dick in until your clit brushed his pelvic bone, sending a light whimper from your lips.

"So am i."

at first, he slowly dragged his cock gently back and forth. admiring the sight of his base sliding in and out of your soft folds. he wanted this sweet moment to last. the look of your sleeping body being lit by the lined morning sun seeping through his window blinds. but the pleasure was just so addicting, he couldn't maintain his slow intimate pace. especially with your walls gripping him. he started to quicken up the pace, if his load pathetic whimpers weren't enough to wake you up, it was the feeling he was giving you now.

your eyes start to slightly flutter open, in your slumber, you feel a warm sensation in your core. but when you awaken and see your boyfriend looking lustfully down at you, your foggy brain starts to melt.

"d-donnie, what are you- nghh --doing?"

"shhh don't worry angel, just focus on how good you feel right now. can you do that for me? you look so beautiful right now." he says leaving trails of kisses on your boobs.

pleasure overwhelmed you as your eyes widened with lust. you felt on cloud nine yet you had just woken up.

donnies thrusts got harder as chased his release, hitting that perfect spot in your gummy walls, causing your back to arch off the matress, which earned a moan from Donny's lips.

"Donnie- oh fuck, you feel so good."

you weren't fulling awake yet and still groggy. your mouth leaving a string of whines as you neared your climax, you could never get used to how your boyfriend's thick cock stretched you out in the most familiar and delicious way possible.

"fuck baby I'm so close, come with me sweetheart." donnie paused massaging and pinching your nipples, and brought his hand down to rub your clit in gentle circles, causing you to knit your eyebrows together and roll your eyes in the back of your head. the pleasure causing you to short circuit.

your release hit you like a freight train. your body twitched from your shoulder blades, down your spine, and through your shaking thighs. you moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you causing you to moan loudly.

donnie, completely loosing any regard for your pleasure in the focus of chasing his own. his thrusts were hard and spractatic. pulling out and snapping his hips to shove himself fully back in.

his face was always so pretty like this, pupils blown and messy bed hair a mess in pure bliss. his cock twitched inside you and ropes of cum split out filling your cervix. as he gave his last thrusts, a white ring of both your and his cum juicing out of the tight entrance.

he pulled out with a heavy sigh, sad but satisfied to finally be leaving you. he pulled your panties back on so as to not spill and plopped back onto the bed.

you were completely fucked out, even through having only been awake for a short while. he looked at you and kissed your temple causing you to grin.

"I cant belive you fucked me when I was asleep, you're such a perv darko."

donnie looked down shamefully "I'm sorry baby, it wont happen again."

"its okay" you say crawling into his arms and kissing his neck. "it was hot." you whisper in his ear.

donnies face turned red "wanna go for another?" he said full of hope.

"nice try donnie." starting to get sleepy again from being woken from your slumber aswell as from donnies dick breaking you open. "next time." and with that you both drift off to sleep in each others arms, contentment overruling you and you both dream of each others future.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #4 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Taking up Seokjin's challenge to star in his cam show, you go shopping with him to prepare for that night. However, a run in with your ex boyfriend has you questioning your life decisions and revealing your past even more. Though Seokjin knows how to make you feel better, and thus, the blending of boundaries between you too gets even more convoluted. note: i wanted to wait to release this chapter a bit closer to Valentine's Day hehe so here it is! I'm working on Chapter 5 which I'll release sometime late this month or early next month and then I'll put this series on a bit of a break just to let the finale simmer. warnings: mild language, camboy! seokjin mode, protected s*x, blindfolds, Ghostface mask, ASMR sounds, grinding, n*pple play, breast play, f*ngering, multiple org*sm, cowgirl, pet names, kinda falling into a bit of a headspace from the org*sms, calling jin "daddy", big d*ck, d*ggystyle, body worship, voyeurism, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin, aftercare drop date: February 10th, 2024, 6:00pm pst word count: 7.8k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 3 | chapter 5 -> - -

The knock on your door is sharp but not obnoxiously loud. You groggily lift your head from the pillow, the warmth of your blankets beckoning you to stay put. Still, the persistent rhythm of Jin’s knocking refuses to be ignored.

“Y/N, wake up!” Jin’s voice carries through the door, bright and insistent.

You groan, tossing your blankets off and dragging yourself to the door. When you open it, Jin stands there, fully dressed and annoyingly cheery for such an early hour on a Saturday.

“What do you want?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“Get dressed,” he says, grinning. “We’re going somewhere.”

You squint at him, trying to process his words through the haze of sleep. “Where are we going?”

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too smug. “We’re getting you lingerie, maybe some toys and sunglasses.”

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, jolting you awake.

“Excuse me?!”

“Lingerie,” he repeats, his grin widening. “You know, for the cam stuff. And sunglasses���because no one’s seeing your face, right?”

Your mouth opens, then closes as you try to form a response. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at him, wide-eyed. “And the toys?” you finally manage to ask, your voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Jin shrugs nonchalantly. “Optional. But hey, might as well explore your options, right?”

You groan, already regretting your decision from last night. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you agreed to this,” he teases, pushing off the doorframe. “If you’re still down for this, then get ready. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”

As he turns to leave, you shut the door with a huff and lean back against it. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Still, there’s a strange excitement bubbling under your nerves. You pull yourself together, grabbing clothes and getting ready. If you’re doing this, you might as well dive in headfirst.

By the time you head downstairs, Jin is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. When he sees you, he flashes you a grin.

“Ready to shop?” he asks, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

“Do I have a choice?” you mutter, earning a laugh from him as you both head out the door.

“You do, but I doubt your pride would let you not move forward with this.”

And damn it, he’s right.

The drive to wherever Jin is taking you isn’t particularly long, but it feels eternal. The radio is turned low, playing a mix of pop and indie songs, none of which Jin seems to fully know. He hums along anyway, confidently belting out half-formed lyrics, occasionally sneaking a glance at you with that same playful smirk you’ve grown to hate—and secretly enjoy.

When the car finally pulls into the parking lot of one of the city’s larger malls, your stomach drops. Jin parks near a side entrance, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the neon sign of Spencer’s.

Oh.

“This is where we’re going?” you ask, staring at the window display. Lace, satin, and an unholy number of novelty items are all proudly showcased under harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Of course,” Jin says, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Gotta start somewhere.”

He thought you'd be more comfortable here than the places he usually goes.

You groan, slouching deeper into your seat. “Why? It’s not like it’s gonna stay on for long, right?”

Jin rolls his eyes, opening his door with an exaggerated sigh. “Wow, such romantic enthusiasm. I’m telling you, the right outfit sets the mood and the audience loves it. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”

“On what? The art of taking it off?” you shoot back, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He grins as if you’d just handed him the best setup of his life. “Exactly, and it’s an art worth perfecting.”

You step out of the car reluctantly, trailing behind him as he leads the way into the mall. The early shoppers barely glance at the two of you, but you still feel like a giant spotlight is shining down on you.

When you reach the store, Jin holds the door open like he is leading you into a fine dining establishment. “After you, my princess.”

“Ugh, don’t start with that again,” you mutter, stepping past him.

Inside, the store was exactly what you expect—half risqué and half ridiculous. Racks of lingerie are set up alongside gag gifts and posters of bands you haven’t thought about since high school. Jin, however, looks like a kid in a candy store.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, crossing your arms and watching him scan the store like he is devising a strategy.

He turns to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The plan is simple. Find something you like—or that I like—and we’ll see how it looks on you. Easy.”

Your jaw drops. “You want me to try stuff on?”

“Obviously.” Jin grabs a hanger with a delicate black lace set and holds it up for you to see. “We’re not just guessing here. This is serious business.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Jin just winks, already moving toward the next rack. “And yet, here you are, playing along. Now, do you prefer lace or satin?”

“I’m not trying anything on,” you declare, staring determinedly at the nearest rack. “I’ll pick one, and we can go.” Your eyes land on a pale pink lingerie set—delicate lace bralette with thin straps, paired with matching high-waisted panties edged with tiny satin bows. It’s soft and feminine, a stark contrast to anything you’d ever imagined yourself buying.

“How about this?” you ask, holding it up for Jin’s approval.

He steps closer, tilting his head to examine it like it’s a fine piece of art. “Hmm…” he muses, rubbing his chin dramatically. “Fine. Add these cat ears and tail, and we’re good.” He plucks a fuzzy black headband with cat ears and a ridiculous clip-on tail from the adjacent display rack, holding them out like he’s solved a puzzle.

You blink at him. “I—I’m not even going to ask.”

“Should we get one of these too?” Jin points toward another section, his grin growing mischievous. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s indicating: a realistic penis-like dildo on one shelf and a sleek, purple wand vibrator on another.

“Just pick one, and we can go!” you snap, your cheeks blazing.

Without hesitation, Jin grabs the vibrator, waving it triumphantly. “I’ll keep the other one in mind the next time we come by.”

You groan, muttering under your breath about his audacity as you head to the checkout counter. Jin pays without batting an eye, his casual demeanor doing nothing to ease the heat of your embarrassment.

On the way out of the mall, you both stop at a premium matcha stand. Jin orders two servings of soft-serve matcha ice cream, and you find a quiet spot near the fountain to sit and eat. The first bite of creamy, earthy sweetness is enough to calm your nerves slightly. Jin sits beside you with his steady and reassuring presence, though you can’t help but feel a flicker of unease lingering beneath the surface.

Jin keeps the conversation light. He teases you about your flustered reactions in the store, his laughter warm and infectious. You talk about food, what you’re craving for dinner, the list goes on. His easygoing nature is a balm to your frayed nerves, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering unease in your chest. He’s always been like this, so good at making things feel fine, even when they’re not. And for a brief moment, you let yourself relax, even laugh. The sound surprises you—it’s been so long since you’ve laughed like this, freely and without reservation.

Things, for once, feel normal in your life. 

Or at least, they almost do. There’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to disrupt this fragile peace. Just like the breakup and the layoff. You try to push the thought away, focusing instead on the way Jin’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his voice carries a playful lilt as he recounts a silly story. This is nice, you tell yourself. This is enough.

But it’s only when you finally feel a sense of some normalcy that you end up with a reminder of the past. 

When your eyes catch something. 

Something not unusual, but actually, someone familiar.

Him.

Out of all the malls in this damn city filled with millions of people, fate still tortures you by sending you that man to disturb your peace.

The one who cheated on you—the man you’d given your heart to, only for him to shatter it like it meant nothing.

You remember the day you found out: having just come over to Yunjin’s place for a small get-together. The way your friends hesitated to tell you, but did so anyway. How your stomach twisted as you scrolled through the incriminating messages and photos on his phone. The way your world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything you thought you knew crumbling around you. It’s a memory you’ve tried to bury, but seeing him now makes it all rush back like a tidal wave.

He’s with his friends you remember—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. They’re laughing, walking out of a nearby streetwear clothing store, and for a second, you think you might be safe. The fountain is kind of in the way from his perspective.

Maybe he won’t see you, you hope, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe you can just disappear into the background, unnoticed.

But as fate loves toying with you, the fountain cascades suddenly stop for a brief second and then his head turns, and his gaze locks onto yours.

Your stomach immediately plummets.

Panic sets in, sharp and suffocating. You quickly look away, pretending to focus on your ice cream, but your hand trembles slightly, the spoon digging into the soft-serve without lifting it. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, embarrassment—threatening to overwhelm you. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see how much this still affects you. But it’s too late. You can feel his eyes on you, and the weight of his gaze is suffocating.

“Hey, you okay?” Jin’s voice pulls you back, his tone laced with concern. You glance up to find him watching you carefully, his teasing smile replaced by a furrowed brow. His eyes are searching, trying to piece together what’s wrong, and for a moment, you consider telling him everything. But the words stick in your throat, and instead, you nod quickly, forcing a smile.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice wavers. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Jin’s too perceptive, too attuned to your emotions, and he’s not buying it.

His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and the ex-boyfriend that follows a bit further behind them. His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and you can see the moment it clicks for him. His expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he notices how tense you’ve become. “Who’s that?” he asks, his tone lower, more serious.

“No one,” you lie, but it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. 

He’s already connected the dots, and it makes your chest tighten.

“Doesn’t look like no one.” Jin leans back in his seat, his casual demeanor masking the sharpness in his gaze. 

He seems to already connected the dots on who that is.

“Want me to do something about it?”

Huh? 

You glance at him, startled. “What? No!”

Is he insinuating he’ll go confront them? Fight them? Absolutely not.

The worst thing that could happen is causing a scene.

He shrugs, taking another bite of his ice cream. “Just saying. I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.”

Wait, is he implying he wants to pretend to be your fake new boyfriend in front of your ex? The idea is so absurd, so Jin, that despite everything, a small, bitter laugh escapes you.

“What!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You’re seriously unbelievable, Seokjin.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck sitting here with me right now. He’ll believe it if he sees you’ve moved on,” he says lightly, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s serious about one thing—he’s not about to let anyone ruin your day.

And he somehow already seemed to catch on that it’s your ex, which fuels his eagerness to help you even more.

"Let’s just go home," you mutter, your voice tight as you stand, grabbing Jin’s hand before he can say another word. Without waiting for a response, you tug him along, weaving through the bustling mall.

Jin doesn’t protest. His long strides easily match your pace, though you can feel the curious weight of his gaze on you as you march ahead. The warmth of his hand in yours feels grounding, even as your heart races from the encounter you’re desperately trying to shake off.

Once outside, the cool air hits your face, but it does little to quell the heat in your chest. You loosen your grip slightly but don’t let go entirely until you enter the car.

Jin finally breaks the silence as you both slide into your seats. “So…care to tell me what that was about?” His tone is light but probing, a stark contrast to the tension swirling around you.

You fiddle with your seatbelt, avoiding his eyes. “It’s really nothing to care about. I just didn’t feel like being there anymore.”

Jin obviously doesn’t buy it, and you know it. He’s stuck wondering what the hell was all that inside the mall.

He leans back in his seat, studying you with an expression that’s a mix of patience and persistence. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure dragged me out of there like the mall was on fire.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

He raises a brow, clearly waiting for you to elaborate further.

You finally glance at him, your voice softer now. “That guy, the one I was looking at…he’s my ex. The one who cheated on me.”

Jin’s expression darkens immediately. His jaw tightens, and his easy going demeanor vanishes in an instant. “I figured, but that’s the asshole?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

For a moment, Jin doesn’t say anything, but the way his hands grip the edge of his seat tells you he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You should’ve really said something earlier,” he mutters, his voice low. “I would’ve—”

“Would’ve what?” you cut him off, forcing a small smile. “Made a scene in the middle of the mall?”

“If it meant putting him in his place, yeah,” Jin says firmly. “I hate people who cheat on their significant others. No one gets to hurt you like that and walk around like nothing happened.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a second, you just stare at him. The fire in his eyes, the way his fists are clenched like he’s ready to fight—it's so uncharacteristic of him, but it’s also oddly comforting.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest. “You’re really something, Jin. I am not going to send you out to battle him. I don’t even think you have it in you to actually throw hands.”

“Hey! I actually do. Plus we’re friends, so I’d fight for you whether or not I was an experienced black belt!” he retorts, his usual teasing tone creeping back in.

The tension in the car eases slightly, and Jin starts the engine. As Jin pulls out of the parking lot, he glances at you again.

“For what it’s worth, he doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts.”

You nod, biting your lip. Deep down, you know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to let go of the past—or the way your heart still aches when you see that man.

“Thanks, Jin,” you say quietly, and for once, he doesn’t reply with a joke. Instead, he just reaches over and squeezes your hand, his silent support speaking louder than words. “Let’s just forget this shit even happened.”

In the late evening, you stand in front of your bedroom mirror, adjusting the pink lingerie you picked out earlier. The delicate lace clings to your curves, and the satin ribbon at the bust feels both alluring and slightly foreign against your skin. You tug at the hem, trying to feel less exposed, but there’s no denying you look good.

The memory of seeing your ex at the mall lingers, an unwelcome weight in the back of your mind. But you shake your head, willing yourself to push it aside. This is about moving on, you remind yourself. Tonight is an opportunity to let go of that baggage—to embrace something different, something new.

Just as you’re finishing, Jin knocks on your door.

“You ready?” His voice carries through, casual and tinged with amusement.

Opening the door slightly, you peek out, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, but I just realized I forgot to buy sunglasses...”

He grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No worries. I’ve got a solution.”

You raise a brow, suspicious. “What kind of solution?”

Jin steps back, revealing a folded black blindfold in his hand. “You’ll wear this,” he explains with a mischievous smirk, holding it up like he’s offering a priceless artifact.

You blink. “And what about you?”

He reaches behind his back, pulling out a white Ghostface mask with exaggerated, hollowed-out eyes. “This bad boy right here.”

The sight of it makes you laugh despite yourself. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack,” he says, slipping the mask over his head to demonstrate. His voice comes out slightly muffled, but the effect is as ridiculous as you’d expect. “See? Anonymity secured.”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

“Good. Now put this on,” Jin says, handing you the blindfold.

You take it, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubble in your chest. “You know, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever agreed to.”

Jin tilts his head, the mask amplifying the humor in his movements. “And yet here you are, willingly about to do it with a guy wearing a Ghostface mask. Makes you wonder, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you tie the blindfold securely around your head, the world plunging into darkness. “Just don’t let me trip and fall on the way to your room, okay?”

“Alright, Princess,” Jin says, his tone teasing but soft. “I’ve got you.”

The stream begins, the faint hum of Jin’s microphone blending with the soft, ambient music he always uses to set the mood. The chat is already alive, comments flooding the screen with excitement and curiosity about the unexpected collaboration. Jin adjusts the camera slightly, making sure the angle is just right, then sits back on the plush chair.

“Alright, everyone,” his voice is smooth and playful, the confident persona of BigTunaMan in full swing. “Tonight’s stream is... a little different.”

The chat erupts in a frenzy: “Collab?!”“Who’s the guest?!”“OMG, BigTuna never does collabs!”

Jin chuckles, leaning forward to read some of the comments. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t usually do this, but let’s call it an experiment. Be nice, alright? I’d like to introduce you all to Princess Peach—well, just Princess for short.”

You fidget nervously, sitting just out of frame, your blindfold securely in place. Hearing his voice take on that teasing tone meant for his audience is surreal. The anonymity offered by the blindfold feels like a small comfort, but you’re acutely aware of the way the lace lingerie hugs your body. “Say hi, Princess,” Jin says, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You manage a small wave in the general direction of the camera. “H-Hi...”

The chat explodes: “OMG she’s shy!”“Princess Peach for real!”“Is she wearing pink?!”

“She’s still warming up to this whole thing,” Jin says, his tone affectionate, like he’s easing a shy partner into a dance. “So be patient with her.”

He taps your hand lightly, signaling for you to move. “Now, Princess, come here,” he says, patting his lap. “You’re gonna sit right here, facing the camera.”

You hesitate for a moment, your breath catching. But then you remember why you’re doing this—to move on, to try something bold and different, to make some money out of this.

And also, because this is a challenge started by Seokjin. 

You can’t lose.

You carefully maneuver onto his lap with his help. Your body tenses as you adjust yourself, facing the camera as he instructed.

“That’s it,” Jin murmurs, his hands lightly settling on your hips to steady you. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, but you stay composed. “Comfortable?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

He leans closer, his masked face just beside your ear, and the audience catches the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Relax,” he says softly, but with a playful edge meant for his viewers. “You’re doing great, Princess.”

The chat goes wild: “This is SO hot.”“She’s adorable omg.”“BigTuna spoiling us fr.”

Jin tilts his head slightly, addressing the camera with his usual charisma. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started.” His hands stay on your hips, his touch firm but not overbearing. He pauses to let the tension build, letting the audience bask in the new dynamic unfolding before them.

His hands begin to move tentatively, his palms brushing against the thin lace covering your chest. His touch is measured, deliberate, as if testing both your comfort and his own. You can feel the hesitation in his movements, though there’s a hint of determination beneath it. Your breath catches as his fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin. You shift slightly in his lap, feeling vulnerable in the moment by the fact that you’re in front of a camera. 

Though you can’t see the audience through the blindfold.

A split second makes you question what are you even doing as this all feels so jarring. 

Maybe it’s the nerves and exhilaration talking since you’ve never done anything like this before. 

The faint hum of the stream setup, the occasional sound of Jin chuckling at comments while touching you all over—it all feels surreal. 

Yet, there’s a strange thrill in feeling the pleasure and knowing you’re putting on a show, even if your face is hidden.

“You’re doing great,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and velvety, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. His hands grow bolder, cupping your breasts fully now, his thumbs brushing over the peaks through the fabric.

A soft sound escapes your lips before you can stop it, and your cheeks burn beneath the blindfold. You try to stifle the noise, but Jin’s hands don’t falter. If anything, he seems encouraged.

“Princess,” he says softly, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’m reading the chat, and I think the audience likes you already.”

The chat explodes with responses: “Ahhh she’s perfect omg.”“Her sounds are so hot....”“I want them both”“BigTuna really hit the jackpot!”

You swallow hard, your mind racing. 

They’re watching. They’re really watching. 

The thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a wave of heat through your body. You try to focus on Jin’s hands, on the way he touches you. It’s oddly... comforting, like he’s touching something delicate with so much care.

“Relax,” Jin whispers, leaning closer so his breath brushes your ear. “You’re doing better than I thought you would.”

“Better than you thought?” you mumble, your voice shaking with a mix of nervousness and teasing defiance.

Jin chuckles, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements. “Yeah, you’re playing the role perfectly. Such a good princess.”

The praise sends another jolt through you, and you can’t help but arch slightly into his touch, the tension in your body loosening bit by bit.

Maybe you can do this.

Oh?

You surprise yourself with the realization. 

Maybe this isn’t as terrifying as you thought.

Your sounds become less restrained, the initial shyness giving way to something more natural. You can feel Jin relaxing too, his hands moving with more confidence now, as though he’s settling into a rhythm.

“See?” Jin says softly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re feeling more comfortable now, aren’t you.”

The words make your heart race, but they also spark something else: a sense of pride. You tilt your head slightly, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re embarrassing me,”

“Really, now?”

Jin’s hands glide down your sides, his touch firm yet gentle as he finds their place on your hips. You feel his grip tighten slightly, steadying you as he guides your legs apart. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, amplifying the sensation and making you hyper-aware of every single movement.

“A-Ah!”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, meant more for you than the stream. The chat goes wild, flooding the screen with reactions.

Jin shifts his position slightly, leaning in closer, and his hand drifts between your thighs. His fingertips brush lightly over the delicate fabric of your lace panties, and the teasing touch alone sends a shiver up your spine. Then, he presses against your clit through the fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Your body reacts instinctively, a mix of retreating from the sudden surge of pleasure and seeking it out again. Your hips jerk slightly, causing you to grind against his hand and inadvertently press back against him. The dual sensations overwhelm you, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

“It’s okay,” Jin whispers, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Just let me take care of you.”

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, sliding the lace to the side and exposing your slick heat to him and the virtual audience watching you two. For a moment, he hesitates, his hand hovering as if savoring the anticipation. Then, with agonizing slowness, he slides two fingers into your warmth.

“O-Oh.. fuck…”

The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling slightly to find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against his shoulder as your breath catches, a low moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mutters, just loud enough for the mic to pick up. 

The chat explodes again: “OMG, BigTuna has skills.”“I want to be the Princess pls”“Fuck, this is getting to me!!”

His fingers move expertly, curling and scissoring as he works you open, his thumb pressing against your clit in tandem with his movements. The combination is overwhelming, the pleasure building in waves that make it impossible to think straight.

Your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his hand as your body chases the release it so desperately needs. Jin leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he breathes. “So responsive... I could do this to you all night.”

Your hands grip his thighs for support, your nails digging into him as you try to ground yourself. The sounds of your moans, the wet noises of his fingers moving inside you, and Jin’s whispered praises fill the room, creating a symphony of raw intimacy.

The blindfold amplifies every sensation, the lack of sight sharpening the sensitivity of your other senses. Jin’s fingers, already skilled, now feel like they’re working magic, their unique shape brushing and curling against spots inside you that send electric currents coursing through your entire body. The added vulnerability, the warmth of his chest against your back, and his deliberate, practiced movements have you teetering on the edge of control.

You feel yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling in his grasp. Jin’s voice cuts through the haze, low and commanding. “That’s it, Princess. Let go for me. Let them see how good you are.” When Jin's low, commanding voice cuts through the fog, telling you to let go, it feels like a trigger being pulled. Your body reacts instinctively, trembling as waves of ecstasy wash over you. 

“Aah!”

You come undone, the climax hitting so hard and fast that it leaves you breathless. A gush escapes, but thankfully it doesn't spray, leaving just a warm mess against Jin’s hand and thighs.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his tone laced with awe and something darker. Though you can’t see his face, his voice alone tells you everything—the surprise, the admiration, the growing hunger as he processes what just happened. His fingers slowly withdraw, leaving you quivering, and now, feeling like jelly against his body.

“Can you move?” he asks softly, though there’s an urgency in his voice.

You can only manage a shaky breath, your legs trembling too much to respond coherently. Jin takes control, his hands firm yet gentle as he carefully lifts you. Your knees barely hold steady as he positions you so that you’re standing, hovering over him now.

“Stay still for me,” he instructs, his tone both soft and commanding. You feel the heat of his hands sliding to your waist, grounding you even as your body feels unsteady from the aftershocks.

From beneath you, you hear the rustle of fabric as Jin pushes his sweatpants down. The sound of his waistband snapping free is accompanied by the subtle shuffle of movement. Then, you hear him exhale sharply as he frees himself, his arousal now fully evident.

You can’t see it, but the moment he positions himself beneath you, the anticipation skyrockets. The blindfold robs you of sight but heightens the sound of every shift, every breath, and every movement, leaving you entirely attuned to him.

Jin grabs the condom from the table, his movements methodical as he tears the wrapper and rolls it on with practiced ease. The slight sound of latex stretching sends a shiver through you, anticipation building with every second.

“I’m going to enter you gently,” he says, his voice low and steady, though you can hear a thread of tension beneath it. “And I’ll help you bounce once you’re ready. Just listen to me, okay?”

His words alone send a pulse of excitement through you, your walls clenching in response. You nod, your voice caught somewhere in your throat as your breathing quickens.

With one hand bracing your hip and the other holding himself at your entrance, Jin begins to guide you down slowly. The stretch is immediate, and you gasp as the thick head of his cock presses inside, sending a mix of pleasure and pain rippling through you.

“A-ah, daddy,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders for support.

Wait, daddy?! Where did this come from?! Why is your brain saying this!

Despite the second of internal panic, however, Jin likes this. It’s riling him up.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pausing to let you adjust before easing in deeper. Inch by inch, he fills you, his size forcing you to take your time. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls fluttering and gripping him tightly as he pushes further.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jin says, his voice filled with awe. He groans softly, his fingers gripping your waist tighter. “Damn, you’re so tight. I bet everyone watching wishes they were you right now.”

His words send a jolt through you, and your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and arousal. Somewhere in the haze of sensation, you hear Jin addressing his audience.

“Don’t be shy,” he says, his tone teasing. “My loves watching, have some fun while you watch us. You know you want to.”

Before you can process his words, Jin begins to move, rocking his hips gently upward as he helps you settle onto him fully. The stretch burns for a moment, but the heat of his cock filling you so completely makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“H-Hah… oh my god,” you moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” Jin whispers, his hands guiding your hips to rise and fall slowly.

“Mmn… Daddy, you’re so—ah—big. It’s too much,” you cry out, your voice breaking into soft whimpers as he starts thrusting deeper.

He starts slow, his hips rolling upward with a deliberate rhythm, but the drag of his cock along your walls sends shockwaves through you. Each thrust feels like it’s reaching a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed.

Spots that were never touched by Mingi.

“F-Fuck, daddy! Oh, oh god—ahh!” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his pace quickening slightly. “So warm and tight. Perfect.”

The way his hands guide your hips while his cock stretches and fills you is almost too much. Your body moves instinctively, grinding down against him as his thrusts grow more powerful, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

“Ah! Daddy—please—ohh!” you cry, your voice trembling as he hits deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice dark with arousal. “Keep making those sounds for me. Let them all know how good I’m making you feel.”

His hips snap up harder, the force of each thrust making your body jolt against him. The wet sounds of your connection fill the room, and your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he drives you closer to the edge.

Jin’s thrusts grow increasingly intense, your chest bouncing with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, but it heightens when his hands leave your hips and slide upward. His fingers hook under the fabric of your bra, tugging it down to expose your chest fully.

A sharp intake of breath escapes you as his warm hands cup your breasts, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. His thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

“Look at you,” Jin murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he fondles your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers. The dual sensation of his cock pounding into you and his hands on your chest drives you closer to the edge.

“Ahh—daddy! I—I can’t… I’m—!” you cry out, your head tilting back as the coil inside you snaps.

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, your walls clenching tightly around him as your cries fill the room. Jin groans loudly, feeling your release ripple through you, his movements stuttering momentarily to let you ride out the intense pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “You’re incredible.”

You collapse slightly against him, panting as you try to catch your breath. Jin doesn’t move for a moment, letting you recover. Then, with a satisfied grin, he gently pulls out and moves the camera, angling it toward his bed.

“Let’s change things up,” he says softly, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

He carries you to the bed, placing you down with care before his tone shifts, commanding and firm.

“Get on all fours,” he instructs.

Your heart pounds as you comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees with your face turned toward the camera. The vulnerability sends a thrill through you, but there’s little time to dwell on it.

Jin climbs onto the bed behind you, his presence dominating. Without warning, he slides himself back into your slick heat, making you gasp loudly.

“A-ah! Fuck me!” you cry out, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard.

His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he thrusts forward, deeper this time. One hand slides up your back, pressing down on the middle of your spine and forcing you to arch further. Your face is pressed into the mattress, your muffled moans filling the air.

“You didn’t expect this, did you?” Jin says, his tone dripping with smugness. “Didn’t think I could be rough?”

The pace he sets is relentless, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The angle leaves you utterly exposed and vulnerable, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides any hesitations.

“F-Fuck! Daddy—ahh! S-So deep—!” you manage to choke out, your voice muffled against the sheets.

“You look so good like this,” he groans, his hand coming down to slap your ass lightly before gripping it firmly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

The intensity builds with each thrust, your body melting under his control, completely at his mercy.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind of overwhelming sensations and emotions, a chaotic mix of pleasure, disbelief, and curiosity. Every thrust Jin delivers sends shockwaves through your body, the rhythm pulling you deeper into a state of raw, unfiltered lust. You can feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you, hitting spots that make your mind blur and your body tremble.

Your blindfold is a frustrating barrier, heightening every sensation yet leaving you longing to see what’s happening around you. How hot must this look, you wonder, your body arched perfectly, Jin’s strong hands guiding you like he owns every part of you. You ache to see his face, the concentration and lust in his expression as he moves behind you.

The thought only makes the knot in your stomach tighten, and you moan loudly, muffled against the mattress. You feel yourself unraveling, completely lost in the moment, and you’re not sure whether you’ll ever fully come back from this.

Jin’s steady rhythm falters slightly, and you hear the faint click of his mouse, followed by the low rumble of his voice. “Let’s see what they’re saying…”

He doesn’t stop moving as he leans slightly, keeping his pace just firm enough to keep you gasping and writhing under him. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder, with a tinge of embarrassment, he reads, “‘Choke her <3.’”

The words send a jolt through your entire body, and you involuntarily tighten around him.

“Fuck,” Jin groans, his hand squeezing your hip. “Did that turn you on?”

You bite your lip, feeling a flush spread across your face, but you don’t deny it. Jin chuckles, low and dark, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Princess,” he says, his tone dripping with authority, “are you open to their suggestion?”

You nod instinctively, but his grip on your hip tightens. “Words, Princess.”

“Yes,” you gasp out, your voice shaky but desperate. “Yes, you can.”

The next moment, his hand leaves your hip and slides upward, grazing the curve of your back before settling gently around your throat. His fingers press lightly, testing your reaction, and when you whimper in approval, he tightens his grip just enough to make your head spin.

“That’s my good girl,” Jin murmurs, his thrusts resuming their relentless pace. “You like this, don’t you? You like doing what I say, being my perfect little plaything.”

You can’t even form words anymore, reduced to broken cries and breathless gasps as he drives you further into madness. The combination of his hand around your throat and his thick cock pounding into you sends your senses into overdrive, the blindfold making everything feel even more intense.

You’re completely undone, your body and mind lost to him, and the realization of how far you’ve fallen only makes the experience hotter.

“Fuck!”

Your entire body trembles as the overwhelming release takes hold of you, leaving you gasping and utterly spent. The wet sound of your release hitting the sheets makes Jin pause for a moment, his thrusts moving out of rhythm as he processes what just happened. His hands remain on your hips, steadying you, but you can feel the tension in his body as he takes it all in.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and almost awed. His eyes widen slightly as he glances down at the evidence of your pleasure soaking into his sheets. It’s this sight that get him to reach orgasm, coming inside you, or rather the condom that wraps around his cock.

He releases your throat gently and slides out of you, leaving you gasping for air as your body collapses fully onto the bed. Your muscles feel like jelly, your limbs heavy as if they don’t belong to you anymore. How long has this been going on? An hour? Longer? 

How long do these streams even last?

You’ve never been pushed this far before during sex. It’s intoxicating and terrifying at the same time.

The blindfold robs you of all sense of time, and the relentless pace of Jin’s movements has left your mind foggy. 

The thought flickers briefly before being lost in the haze of exhaustion.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker, “I didn’t know you had this in you, Princess.”

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers trailing lightly down your back as he speaks. “Tired already, Princess?”

You manage to turn your head slightly, your face flushed as you retort, “Not tired, just... letting you catch up.”

He laughs, a low, teasing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Being such a brat won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

You feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. “Or maybe you like being put in your place. Is that it? You want me to remind you who’s in charge here?”

You shiver at his words, the teasing edge in his tone sending another jolt through your exhausted body. Jin pauses, and you hear the faint hum of the monitor catching his attention.

“They’re loving you,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look at this.”

You can’t see the comments, but you can hear the pride in his voice, the way he’s reveling in the reactions pouring in. It’s a strange feeling, knowing so many people are watching you like this, but instead of embarrassment, it fills you with a strange thrill.

Why must you be so competitive..

Because really.. what did you just yourself into?

Feeling the ecstasy and adrenaline rush from this, you’ve come to understand why Jin does this on the side and the desire to keep doing it.

A perfect way to escape.

After about 3 hours of fucking and some 15-20 minute breaks, Jin lets out a deep sigh, his body still pressed against yours as he comes down from his own high. The sounds of the stream linger in the background—soft chimes of tips rolling in, the occasional comment filtering through the speakers—but all of it fades into a dull hum as the reality of exhaustion settles over you.

After a moment, he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow as he glances at the monitor. A lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in the flood of comments still rolling in. “You all enjoyed that, didn’t you?” His voice is thick with satisfaction, a trace of smug amusement lingering as he reads a few messages aloud.

He exhales sharply, then runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before reaching for the keyboard. “Well, that’s it for tonight, lovelies,” he purrs, his tone slipping back into that smooth, controlled confidence he carries so well on camera. “Make sure to show your appreciation, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll give you another show soon.” His fingers tap a few final commands, shutting off the chat before he leans back, stretching his sore muscles.

With a final smirk toward the now-dark screen, he powers down the stream and turns his attention back to you.

Slowly, Jin pulls off the condom and ties it off before tossing it into the trash. His touch is uncharacteristically gentle as he shifts your limp body onto your back, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “You with me, Princess?” His voice is softer now, lacking the teasing edge from earlier.

You hum in response, barely able to lift your heavy eyelids. Your body is completely spent, limbs sprawled across his luxurious sheets, your skin sticky with sweat and the remnants of your shared pleasure.

Jin chuckles, but there’s warmth in it now, not mockery. “Damn, I really wore you out, huh?” His fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, grounding you as you try to steady your breathing.

Without another word, he moves off the bed, and you hear the sound of a faucet running. A few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth, the bed dipping as he kneels beside you. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You flinch slightly as the warm cloth makes contact with your overly sensitive skin, but Jin is patient, taking his time to clean between your thighs with slow, careful strokes. The tenderness in his actions is unexpected but not unwelcome, it soothes something raw inside you, something you didn’t realize needed tending to.

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and grabs a nearby hoodie, slipping it over your head before helping you slide your arms through the sleeves. The fabric smells like him—clean, warm, safe.

Jin lies down beside you, pulling you against his chest as he reaches for his phone. With one final glance at the chat, he ends the stream, letting the screen go dark. The quiet that follows feels heavy but comforting, a stark contrast to the past three hours of intensity.

“You did good,” he murmurs, fingers stroking lazily through your hair. “More than good.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling into his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His fingers continue their slow movements, absentminded but soothing. There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “Did you like it? Doing this?”

Your body is still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, exhaustion weighing down your limbs, but there’s no hesitation in your answer. “Mm, I loved it. Felt so good.” You stretch slightly against him, a lazy, satisfied smile on your lips before your curiosity gets the best of you. “How much money did we make?”

Jin chuckles, the vibration of his laughter rumbling against your back. “Always thinking ahead, huh?” He reaches for his phone, checking the final numbers before letting out a low whistle. “More than I expected. You really put on a show.”

His words send a thrill through you, though your exhaustion keeps you from reacting much beyond a smug little hum.

Jin shifts slightly, pulling the blanket up over you both. “Get some rest. I’ll order us breakfast when you wake up.”

The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of Jin’s breathing and the unfamiliar but oddly comforting feeling of being held.

-

-

-

a/n: hehe oops, it's been taking me some time to upload because once again, i have start a new temp job. i hope you guys are liking this story so far and HAPPY EARLY VALENTINE'S DAY HEHE ❤️ ! we have 2 more chapters to go! the next chapter will be a bit smutty, but remember!! there is PLOT!!! and some angst involved but hey! we will get a good ending!! somehow... maybe... Aside from the next chapter, I will take a break from this series to 1) let it make it's rounds and find more audience interested (because engagement and interaction feels nice to read back as a writer!) 2) focus on another fic series because after all the crazy shit i added to chapter 5, i need my interest to recharge for the final chapter and plus i want to get other series moving and planned. i hope you all stick with me until the very end (which will be sometime later this year hehe). thank you all!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[a-driftamongopenstars]

a gift for the departed; Crow & Fikrul ficlet;

i finally finished Act III and the resolution was interesting and I'll think about it more, I really wanted some closure for Crow (and Uldren!) and Fikrul. So I wrote my own :D also on ao3

It is a pilgrimage. Crow ascends the ruins of the would-be Kell's hideout as the remaining Scorn watch him out of sight. There is respect for him, yes, but there is more. There is scorn. It is something that cannot be undone, far too many wrongs.

Crow walks safely through the courtyard, through the tunnels that burrow through the rocky dungeon. With the last Scorn Barons dead, nothing but tainted cinder left in their wake, there is no need for violence.

His destination lies far ahead, across the dark maws of the Reef. Every room is an homage to Uldren's and Fikrul's dream. Awoken statues left in shambles, their sacred designs corrupted and perverted. All that the Prince and the Fanatic wanted to see but never lived to.

But the crown to that dream, the final destination, is where Fikrul's body lies. Crow's footsteps echo in the massive throne room, and he cannot look away from the pointed arch of his Sister's seat.

But that will have to wait.

Crow finds Fikrul's remains untouched. The only mark of his defeat is the poison-green webbing at his chest, where the Guardian has filled his Ether with Light and reverted what the Darkness has done. Crow is struck with a flashback, his fingers trembling, his eyes wetting with tears, as he remembers Fikrul's Ether-bleeding wounds from times ago. How he wished, oh how he wished with his whole heart, that Fikrul be spared from the Guardians' violence.

A wish granted, a son born. That is how he became a Father.

Crow shakes his head, wishing that memory away. The part of him which is Uldren weeps, and he lets it. It, too, deserves to mourn the loss.

He was not a good Father. He left his wish-made off-spring into a bodyguard, a weapon, an undying font of loyalty. And when he himself was put into the ground, his son was left stranded, bound forever to live on. Perhaps, such is the fate of children, however they come to be.

But in this outcome, Crow feels happier. The other part of him, righteous and bold, is glad that the Fanatic's rule is over. No more tortured Eliksni. No more death and rebirth, not for him, not like this.

So he turns to the other thing that calls to him. The throne that looks like a dark fork against the blood-red window.

He seats himself upon it. He reaches up for the pin in his hair and removes it, letting black strands fall in a familiar fashion down his head. His eyes, shining brightly in this dark, scout the room where everything is dead, still and unmoving.

His vision feels out of bounds and distant, yet focused entirely on this throne room. A memory once again, or, perhaps, something that never happened. A gift for the departed, a vision and a dream come true, if only for a moment.

Strange, how in order to move on, one has to return to the origins of pain. Crow finds himself in that situation more often than he wishes to. And yet, it is cathartic.

He feels Uldren's voice coat his vocal cords with bitter honey, his words elevated with the Awoken slant.

"I release you from my service," he says quietly, royally, aiming at nothing in particular and everything at once. "Now go. Be free."

The silent room echoes.

[drenix004]

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Oc!

CHAPTER ONE

MASTERLIST | AO | PR | CH.1| CH.2 | CH.3

English is not my mother tongue, so there may be spelling errors. An apology for that in advance :D

A groan of pain escaped her lips as she felt a tug on her hair.

"You're going to make me bald," she complained.

"Sorry, I'm almost done."

"You said that half an hour ago," Ana, the youngest of the quadruplets, huffed as she watched the eldest combing their sister's hair from her seat by the window. "You've changed her hairstyle three times; even I can feel the pain in my scalp."

"This is the final one," Hinata rolled her eyes at the youngest's impatience. Ana was the most impatient of the four. "And get down from that window; you could fall and break something, at best." She gave her a reproachful look before finishing the last decorative clip in the second quadruplet's hair.

"Alright, alright!" Ana climbed down from the window frame. When Hinata stepped aside and saw her sister's reflection in the mirror, she was speechless.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"Pretty? More like a Christmas tree."

A vein appeared on the eldest's forehead.

"What do you mean, a Christmas tree?!" Hinata pinched Ana's cheeks, sparking a quarrel between the two.

Meanwhile, Liana admired her reflection in the mirror, appreciating the beautiful hairstyle for which she had endured all the pulling and tugging.

Never, as far as she could remember, had she or her sisters been dressed so meticulously and specially for a day like today.

"Can I leave two front strands loose?" Her question halted the argument behind her.

"Hmm? Of course." Hinata approached and carefully released two front strands, curling them with her fingers.

"Thanks." Liana rose from the chair, where she had been seated until then, and carefully smoothed out the expensive kimono her grandmother had given her. She didn't want the matriarch to notice any wrinkles.

"You still haven't made up with Lilia, have you?" Lilian, the third quadruplet, spoke from the eldest's bed. She had been silent since they started styling their sister's hair.

Hinata smiled awkwardly as she began putting away the items she had used on her vanity, feeling the younger ones' eyes on her.

"It's late; we shouldn't make Grandma angry." She changed the subject while ushering her sisters out of her room.

Lilian dropped the topic for now. It had been two weeks since the argument between Lilia and Hinata, and the eldest's decision not to respond spoke volumes.

"This kimono itches," Liana commented as she walked through the halls, followed by her sisters. "Is all this protocol really necessary? Grandma hardly let me sleep."

"You're meeting your fiancé; it's necessary to know manners and etiquette."

"I'm going to be a hunter, not a future heir," Liana protested.

"If you're that frivolous with your fiancé, you'll scare him away," Lilian mocked.

"Let her, that way I'll have a chance," Ana chimed in.

"What if he's ugly?"

"Enough, both of you," Hinata interrupted just as they reached the entrance of the house. "Grandmother," she greeted. The three younger ones bowed respectfully.

Naomi didn't return the greeting; she merely examined Liana's appearance from head to toe, searching for any imperfections.

"Get in," she said before entering the luxurious vehicle through the right door, which the family chauffeur held open.

Liana followed, but not before hearing Hinata's whispered wish of good luck.

The vehicle started its journey, and the enormous traditional house grew smaller as they moved forward.

Liana sat straight, hands clasped on her lap, watching people pass by with boredom. She rarely left the house, so her little world was confined to it.

Even so, people didn't catch her attention due to her limited interaction with them; she preferred quiet, nature-surrounded places.

"It's needless to say that I expect no mistakes, and I hope the etiquette training I gave you bears fruit."

"You'll see results," Liana responded without looking at her. Unconsciously, she clenched her feet, feeling the pain from the blisters on her soles—a vivid memory of her grandmother's etiquette lessons each time she made a mistake.

"I hope so."

"Among the four… why me?" she decided to ask, turning away from the window to look directly at her grandmother.

"You're the most suitable," her biting tone ended the conversation.

✥---------------✥---------------✥---------------✥---------------✥

That her father had arranged a marriage was not a real surprise; what was surprising was that the one engaged was him and not his brother Soichiro, being the successor.

His brother, of course, had mocked him, saying a bunch of nonsense until their father silenced him.

He felt a great curiosity knowing his fiancée belonged to the Nakano clan.

His father had told him they were a clan of military nobility, descendants of samurais. But what he really wanted to see was the albinism that only the members had.

In the portraits, and from what was said about them, they were depicted as white demons with red eyes and a cold gaze.

"This marriage is necessary, Soshiro; it will help the family. The exchange of knowledge is crucial for survival in these times." Soshiro listened attentively to his father, kneeling in front of him. It was only minutes before the guests arrived. "Marriages sometimes don't start with love; as long as you get along with her, that's enough, son."

"Is it true they have red eyes like demons?" he dared to ask, like any curious child his age.

"They do, resembling blood. But don't ask unless she decides to speak about it first. Above all, respect." His father stood as a servant knocked before entering, announcing their guests' arrival. "It's time."

They both left and walked down the impeccably polished wooden halls, whose reflections gleamed under the soft evening light. Soshiro noticed that the garden had also been meticulously arranged. The main garden featured a beautiful bonsai, surrounded by perfectly traced geometric shapes in the sand. The finishing touch was provided by the stones, strategically placed to create an almost zen aesthetic balance.

The shrubs and plants adorning the house had been watered and pruned with care. Every small detail had been covered, ordered, and cleaned by his father's strict orders. The air smelled of wet earth and fresh flowers, a mix that brought tranquility.

Upon reaching the room, they sat on the cushions arranged on the tatami. In front of them were two more cushions, prepared with equal care. The silence in the room was only interrupted by the whisper of the wind against the paper doors.

His father gave an order, and one of the servants slid open a paper door. Soshiro first noticed the older woman who entered; her hair as white as snow and her red eyes reminded him of a winter rabbit, an intriguing and disconcerting sight. But it was his fiancée's appearance that truly caught his attention, making him widen his eyes.

The girl was pretty, no doubt. But his surprise lay not in her beauty but in her unexpected appearance. She wasn't albino like her grandmother. Her hair was a shade of pink similar to cherry blossom flowers. When the girl looked at him, Soshiro was captivated by her deep, serene red eyes, framed by thick lashes the same color as her hair.

Her cold gaze contrasted with her delicate and pretty appearance, and her foreign features gave her an ethereal, almost unreal beauty.

"Son, this is Naomi Nakano, leader of the Nakano clan," his father's introduction abruptly pulled him out of his reverie. Soshiro closed his eyes briefly and bowed respectfully, as custom dictated.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nakano-sama. I am Soshiro Hoshina, thank you for taking the time to come despite your busy schedule."

"The pleasure is mine," Naomi replied, bowing as well, followed by the young girl. "This is Liana Nakano, my granddaughter and your fiancée."

Liana also bowed respectfully to Soshiro.

"Son, why don't you show her around the house? After all, she'll be coming here often for training with you," his father encouraged. Behind his words, he also implied that he wanted him out of the way for a conversation with the clan matriarch that didn't require his presence.

Soshiro nodded, standing and waiting for Liana to do the same.

"Liana."

Her name, pronounced by her grandmother, was a direct order for her to do the same, which she did. Soshiro felt an atmosphere of control that internally displeased him, but he said and expressed nothing.

[imaginesforallkindoflove]

For Vaultknight nation ✨️🙌 sorry fort shortness I am writing something bigger

(They're cutiespapooties)

“What is that?”

That was Maximus’s first question as he glanced at a nearby and nearly destroyed store. All of the windows had been smashed, and the front door was torn open. Without a doubt, some people tried to get inside, as an attempt to get shelter or in hope to find something to destroy. It was dangerous too, as it threatened to fall over. But Maximus was attracted by it, by the still bright yellow letters. He could read the shop’s name: The Gamer’s Den. He found it odd. Turning to Lucy with a smile, he called her over. Knowing she would be as interested as he was, she would love to explore that one building.

Ever since they had parted ways with their teams, if you could call it that, Maximus and Lucy’s relationship had blossomed. Of course, they stayed in contact with Vault 4 and Lucy’s vault, now run over by the fierce Stephanie Harper. It had been hard for Maximus at the beginning. It was relatively new for the former Brotherhood member. All he had known his whole life was bullying and discipline. He had suffered, he had bled, he had grown. But Lucy changed his life forever. God, he loved her silly words, her innocence about the world they were living in. And he admired her bravery.

“Is that… a game store? Oh Maximus look!” She pointed to a RobCo promotional sign with an excited face. “Oh jolly, Norm would have loved to see this! Let’s try and find some of those games!”

“Sure.” He smiled back at her as he followed her inside.

“They were supposed to release those when the bombs dropped.” Lucy whispered as she caught a box behind the counter, a bit opened. Maximus knelt down beside her and started to rummage through the packaged games. They looked brand new despite the dust on them.

“I feel kind of bad for them.” Maximus admitted. He had noticed the skeletons around the city and inside the shop as well. “They must have believed they would be safe there.” His voice was barely audible.

Lucy hummed as she tried to find interesting games for her brother. She always had felt awful about the skeletons, she… tried to pretend they didn't exist. But how could she not? Those skeletons had been people, with hopes, dreams, problems on their own. She couldn’t shake the image of that family when she left her vault. Entering that home had not been a good decision and seeing that Vault Tec had sold those “Plan D” pills… How did the parents feel about giving them to their children? They wanted to spare them, giving them a quick death, and pretend nothing was happening. What a sad way to end your life.

Maximus noticed how gloom Lucy looked. He shouldn't have spoken about the skeletons… He was used to it, but not the vault dweller. Maximus decided to cheer her up. With a smile, he approached her and kissed her cheek.

“Don't think too much about it, Lu. You weren't the one who dropped the bombs.”

“You're right.” She sighed as she picked up some games and put them in her bag. “Let’s go back to the vault and give those to Norm. He will be happy to see you again. He likes you.”

“Really? Because I feel that each time I come with you, he stares at me like he wants me dead.”

“Oh that's just how Norm looks at people.”

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

For the Get In My Business ask game:

4, 8(top five moments insignificant but pleasantly memorable to you), 63, 99

But if you're willing to indulge me, then also 25, 29, 83 and 100.

Or any combination of the above :D

P.S. I currently follow 11 blogs and my dash is rather easily scrolled. If you reblog any ask games, I will likely ask you (and that is a threat) *cough* jk xD ...but also not really hahaha

4. Last time I cried and why:

November 6, 2024. I woke up to the news that Trump cheated his way into office again was re-elected, and while I didn't cry right then, later at work, I was just so anxious about it and upset, but I had to do my job and stay professional and relatively upbeat, and a woman came in who found out that she'd have to put her dog down, and she was crying, and when she left the clinic, I sat down and gave myself two minutes just to cry a little before I caught my breath, determined that this was not going to defeat me (Trump and his bullshit), and then I hauled myself back to my work.

8. Top 5 (insert subject):

When I was 4 years old, and my oldest brother was going to ship off for the Air Force the next day, and he took me to see The Jungle Book (Disney cartoon) at the theatre.

When my brother Robert came home from the Army, and (this was while our mom was still alive, too) we'd be eating dinner, and he and I would take bites of food and then stick out our tongues (food still in our mouths) at each other.

The time when I went with my childhood BFF and her dad to go fishing under the JFK Causeway in the little boat that he made himself (her dad). It was the first (and only) time I've ever been fishing, and it was just a pleasant day all around.

When Hurricane Bret was headed for Corpus Christi, Texas (my hometown and where I was still living), and my sister's BFF insisted that we (my ex, my sister, and myself - and our dog and cat) go with her and her husband to her sister's and BIL's big house that had storm shutters for the duration of the hurricane where it'd be safe. So we put my computer in the closet, propped the mattresses against the sliding glass door and bedroom windows and headed to their place - ultimately there were I think four dogs (maybe five?), one cat (mine but she stayed in the bedroom my ex and I were getting to stay in), and one parrot who, when all the dogs were riled up and barking from the various kennels they were in, would call out, "Shut up, Dogs! Shut up, Dogs!"

The day when I got out of school (elementary school - can't remember which grade it was - maybe second?) when I walked out expecting to meet my mom at her car but it was my brother Robert and his BFF and my childhood BFF who picked me up because they were taking us (BFF and me) to the circus.

25. Someone you miss: I answered this one here.

29. One insecurity:

That, after spending 17 years with my gaslighting ex as the consolation prize/second choice, that's all I'll ever be to anyone I date/fall for.

63. Have you ever touched a snake?

Several. I've had a few friends with snakes as pets, and I got to hold them (both corn snakes) and then once at the South Texas Botanical Gardens and Nature Center, they had a rat snake that they found that they were sure was a pet that had been released out there instead of rehomed.

83. Have you ever glued your hand to something?

Usually not my whole hand but my fingers/thumbs to each other when I've been working with glue and wound up with it on my fingers/thumbs.

99. Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real?

I kind of feel sometimes that the teams I work with at both vet clinics I work for (same vet, two different clinics, and thank the Norns I don't have to go to the third clinic he owns because that's in South Austin) aren't real because they're just so awesome. Best coworkers I've ever had (save one person I worked with at the boutique part time), and that just seems unreal to me - to have such awesome coworkers. I've been there coming up on 5 months, and it feels like I've been there longer but in a good way.

100. Give us one thing about you that no one knows.

I can't think of anything that absolutely no one knows. I tend to be an open book. I mean, my family (brother and sister - they're all that's left of my family that I care about) don't know that I tried poly for a couple of years, but it definitely did not work out for me. I'm not wired for that, and thinking of trying it again in the future just gives me anxiety as well as mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion. (Note: I'm supportive of poly for other people who it works out for - I'm happy for y'all, but it just doesn't agree with me.) Some of my friends and work friends don't know how my brother Robert died, so there's that (and no, I'm not going to put it right out here). But yeah, there's not much I've ever hidden or kept to myself.

Thanks for the asks!

Get In My Business Ask Game.

[bi-bats]

TRICK OR TREAT !!!!!!!!!!! =D

!! HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNNN LEOOOOOOOO

I can't NOT give you a jaytimkon snippet for Halloween. I know what you're looking for in the candy bowl 😂 SOOOOO here's the beginning of the next chapter of Bad Days!! I really want to get it posted soon but I have to write smut for it and that always takes me forever to do 😂😂😂

Anyways, I won't delay any longer, here's your treat!!

~ ✨ ~

Kon hovers an inch above the fire escape, hesitating. He’s already been here for three minutes, trying to work up the nerve to knock. 

But he’s just being a bother, isn’t he? Jason doesn’t want him here. He’s fine with having him around sometimes, sure, but Tim is always there. 

It’s Jason and Tim, and Kon. 

Just because they get along, had like, one actual real conversation and they all took a nap on his couch? That doesn’t mean that he wants to let Kon mope around his apartment.

Even though Kon kinda wants to see him.

He should leave. It’s ridiculously late anyways, so ridiculously late that it’s actually ridiculously early, and Jason’s probably falling asleep, probably has his mouth hanging just a tiny bit open and his head nuzzled into his pillow the way he nuzzled into Kon and his heart does a soft little squeeze in his chest and why is he still here he’s just been floating out here like an idiot he needs to leave—

The blinds on the other end of the window he’s staring at pull up, and Jason looks at him through the glass, unnaturally bright green eyes dancing with something amused. 

Jason’s thick, calloused fingers pop the lock on the window and slide it open, and Kon’s stomach goes tight.

“You gonna hang out there until the sun comes up?” 

A smirk begins to crawl across Jason’s lips as he leans his palms on the windowsill.

Kon feels his face go warm as his eyes drop down at the fire escape. He floats down far enough to toe at the metal, rubbing at his arm.

“Nah, man, sorry. I was just— looking for Tim, but he’s not here, so. Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll see you—”

“Kon.”

Kon’s eyes flicker up and snag on the frown on Jason’s lips. 

“You’ve been out here for the last five minutes. You okay?”

Kon opens his mouth to say Yeah, dude, I’m fine, don’t sweat it, I’ll see you later, but nothing makes it out. He ends up just sort of floating there, saying nothing, for a solid five seconds before he clamps his mouth shut. 

Then he floats up a few feet, ready to just fly off because seriously, what the fuck is he doing there? 

And then Jason’s hand wraps around his ankle, warm and steady. 

“Come inside,” he says, his tone a low, steady rumble. 

Kon hesitates, letting Jason hold him there, before he gives in to the lull of the request. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is quiet and contained in a way he tries not to be in front of anyone.

Jason doesn’t release him, holding his leg like the string of a balloon as he tugs him into the apartment. 

He only lets go to close the window, and Kon lets himself float down until he’s hovering just above the ground, not quite putting his feet down. 

The apartment is clean except for a few guns on the counter and some dishes in the sink. The couch is laid out into the futon, the blanket they all slept under draped across it like Jason was sitting there the whole time Kon was outside, a book open and face down next to the slightly sunken spot. 

It smells like the lemon cleaning spray that Alfred uses at the manor, and soy sauce and onions and pork from whatever Jason has on the stove, and the scent of the cologne Jason uses, warm and sweet and spicy, and at the bottom of all of it, it smells like Jason himself, that warm human smell that Kon doesn’t realize he’s looking for until he finds it.

“What are you doing up?” Jason asks, walking to the sink and turning on the tap.

“What are you doing up?” Kon asks back, still hovering in the space between Jason’s couch and the little wooden dining table he has set up in the corner.

The question didn’t come out as confrontationally as he thinks it does, but he still blushes. 

God, what’s wrong with him?

“Sorry, I’m — that was rude.” Kon shifts his weight from one foot to the other in the air.

Jason gives him a shrug. “S’alright, I get it. Bad day?”

“Yeah,” Kon mumbles.

Somehow, the look that Jason turns and gives him makes him feel even more self-conscious than he already does.

“Dads, huh?” Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kon clenches his jaw a little, so he doesn’t scowl. 

“You hungry?” Jason asks. 

Kon’s jaw loosens. 

First, the answer to that question has never been no, and the smell of sweet and salty Asian barbecue pork isn’t making him less hungry. 

But also, he thought Jason was going to ask what happened, and then he’d have to explain when he doesn’t even really have a right to be upset.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Jason nods and turns, shutting the tap and silencing the rush of water before he grabs a dishtowel and wipes his hands. 

He glances back at Kon, then drops his eyes to the inch of space between his feet and the ground. Jason grins a little, something amused glittering in the bright green of his eyes.

“The floor isn’t lava, you know.”

Kon hesitates for a moment before lowering down slowly, letting his feet graze the floor. 

“Take a seat, I’ll grab a couple of plates.”

Kon walks to the couch, touching his feet to the hardwood on every step without allowing the ground to bear his weight. He lets himself settle on the couch where Jason was sitting so he can watch him move around the kitchen. A rush of steam plumes out of the steamer basket when he opens the lid, his feet make soft noises as his socks pad against the wood.

He tucks his knees up a little, not quite all the way against his chest, but enough to make room for Jason to sit down across from him. 

Jason places the steamer basket on the couch and hands Kon a plate, then drops three buns on it. 

“If I’d known you were coming I would’ve made some classic comfort food.” 

Kon snorts humorlessly, picking up a bun. It’s a little bouncy under his fingers, and he already knows it’s going to be fluffy and delicious before he even bites into it. 

He doesn’t think he wants to eat anything that reminds him of Ma’s kitchen right now anyways.

“Don’t sweat it, I’m already interrupting your—morning,” Kon decides after a glance at the clock on the stove.

“I wasn’t busy,” Jason says, tearing off a chunk of the bun in his hands to let the inside cool. Steam pours out of it in a puff, carrying the smell of the spices.

“Thanks,” Kon says, biting into his bun without waiting. He was right, it’s fucking delicious. The pork is moist and tender and the dough didn’t get soggy at all, and he makes a pleased noise as he rolls it over his tongue. 

“That’s a nice benefit of your genes, huh?” Jason says, blowing on his food and eyeing Kon’s lips.

Kon shrugs. He doesn’t really want to think about his genetics right now. 

“So, where do I aim?” Jason asks. 

Kon’s eyebrows furrow as he tilts his head at Jason.

“Shoulder? Head? I can steal some kryptonite bullets from B in the morning.”

Kon pauses chewing for a second, looking at the amusement in Jason’s eyes before he swallows his food. 

“Are you giving me the Clark is an Asshole special?”

Jason grins, crooked and wide and a little dangerous, and Kon’s stomach does a flip.

[tracybirds]

"snoozeville" with Alan? (although that's normal for him, so if you're not sure what to do with that, I don't mind if you pick someone else instead)

Thank you for the prompt and for your patience :D Alas, Alan's pov for this one wasn't quite working, but I hope you enjoy this alternative :) (now off to snoozeville myself!)

snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed.

---

Scott groaned, shoving away the reconnaissance reports as he scrubbed at his eyes. The dim light of the tablets formed an oasis in the inky dark and the villa was silent but for the faint crash of waves against the cliff. The night was clear and calm and he padded over to the windows to gaze out at the rippling reflection of the moon above. The stars twinkled as he picked out constellations, the instinct from his scouting days as present as ever. He winced as he spied Orion in the east, its steady rise enough to tell him how late the hour had become.

He yawned, turning off the tablet screen and making his way up to his room by the light of his communicator.

The habit of checking in on his family hadn’t always been as compulsive as it was now, but Scott didn’t think it did him any harm. It was needless reassurance perhaps, but at each door as he listened to soft breathing and the murmurs of dreams, he could feel his own heartbeat starting to slow.

Gordon’s room was closest to the lounge, with John’s opposite, to compensate for their sunrise and nocturnal activities respectively, so as not to disrupt the heavier sleeper in the family.

Scott nudged the door open, suppressing a smile to see Gordon sprawled across the bed and hugging a pillow with one arm. The aquarium light through the water gave the room an eerie glow like a underwater grotto. This was as silent and still as Scott ever saw his brother and he took a moment to enjoy the peace.

He backed out of the room quietly and turned to John’s room. He laid a hand on the solid oak door to ground himself, knowing John wasn’t there and resisting the urge to check all the same. A small part of Scott felt guilty not including him in the nightly ritual even when he was absent, but John loathed any perceived invasion of his privacy and it wasn’t worth the inevitable argument when EOS tattled on him. So he compromised, hand on the door, and called up Thunderbird Five.

“You’re late tonight,” observed EOS. “He’s already asleep.”

Scott grimaced, remembering the long, arduous evening he’d left behind.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” whispered Scott. “I lost track of time.”

“He worries.”

“Ditto, then.”

EOS said nothing and Scott sighed.

“I’ll catch him tomorrow, I promise. He’s really sleeping?”

“Three hours and seventeen minutes. He has entered his third sleep cycle tonight.”

“Good,” said Scott softly. “He needs it.”

“So do you, Scott Tracy.”

“Goodnight, EOS.”

He shut down the call without waiting for a response.

Alan’s room was dim and dark, carved into the side of the mountain with no natural light except from that which was funnelled down through the rocks as a skylight. These provided a link to the outside world, the sky and stars that he loved, and a much needed release from his endless video games.

Scott peeked in, hardly noticing the empty bed. It has been a long time since he’d given up on wrestling his youngest brother into bed each night and Alan genuinely seemed to prefer the floor. Scott wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, making a mental note to ask Alan to do a spring clean of the place. There was no sound, not even Alan’s usual quiet snuffling, and Scott frowned, stepping forward into the room fully.

“Allie?” he called softly, picking his way across the floor where gaming gear lay abandoned and dirty clothes were strewn wildly. The moonlight shone through the skylights, illuminating the empty space where Alan normally slept.

“Alan?”

Scott swore to himself, his heart rate spiking as he hurried into Virgil’s room.

“Virgil,” he hissed, “Virgil, wake up.”

“Whaa-?” mumbled his brother, one hand already groping for his comm as he struggled upright. “Is there an emergency?”

“Alan’s gone,” said Scott. “He’s not in his room.”

Virgil blinked blearily at Scott.

“Oh,” he said. “Alan’s in your bed.”

Scott froze.

“He’s what?”

“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Virgil shrugged. “You looked busy. Don’t worry I took a look at him. Just needs rest now.”

Scott felt the words slice into him, although he knew Virgil was merely stating fact, not placing blame.

“Thanks, Virg,” he said, swallowing down the guilt that stuck in his throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll look after him.”

Virgil grunted, asleep again before his head touched the pillow and snoring lightly as Scott turned out the light.

He crept towards his own room, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was organised with military precision. The only anomaly was Alan, and Scott felt carefully for him before climbing into bed.

Alan stirred beside him, curling into Scott’s chest as he wrapped him in a gentle hug.

“Hey, sprout,” said Scott. “Not feeling so good, huh?”

Alan shook his head silently.

“What type of hurt are we dealing with?”

“Throat,” whispered Alan. “Head. Everywhere.”

Scott held him close, humming as he thought.

“Virgil said he gave you something? When was that?”

Alan shrugged.

“I can get you something else,” began Scott, but Alan shook his head once more.

“Please,” he croaked. “Just stay. And sleep.”

Scott thought he could do that.

[feel free to send me a prompt plus a character!]

(yes I still have a fair few to write but they're so fun!!)

[gayphob1a]

Don't Blame Steve

TW: Smut whoops

“Hands!”

“Yes, Chef!” Steve yells, running as fast as he dares to the sous without being reprimanded for creating a hazard. The saucier he had been stationed with shoots him a warning glare, and he knows after this rush he’ll have his ass handed to him on one of the maitre d’s silver platters for abandoning his position, but he’s been given explicit instructions. When the sous calls, he is to run, not walk. He can take the wrath of a measly saucier if it means his chef de cuisine won’t be involved in this particular dispute. 

The man is horrifying, a dark void that pulls everyone in with his initial charisma, only to snap in an instant and leave you feeling like an empty shell of your former self. He runs his kitchen with an iron fist. Hopper himself would cower in Timothy’s presence. Not even swinging a bat into the flowering maw of a demogorgon could hold up to the terror he instills. The sous, though better, is no walk in the park either. She seems like a sweet woman at first, Rosie, but if her call for help goes unheeded there’s no telling what she may use as a weapon. Steve thought, based on this fact alone, that they may even get along the first time he saw her throw a metal spoon across the kitchen in a fit of rage, but this idea was quickly thrown out the window when he narrowly avoided an egg timer hitting him in the head with enough force he very well may have been on the receiving end of another concussion. And at the hands of a 54 year old woman no less. 

Steve comes skidding to a halt at Rosie’s side, close enough to smell the bourbon leaking from her pores and he desperately hopes she’s just horribly hungover. The last time she showed up drunk he went home with burns burgeoning on third degree. Why Timothy never picks up on this, or chooses to ignore it, he doesn’t understand — considering he once came in and was immediately reprimanded for his untied shoelace. 

“I need you on mise. Running low on shallots and cilantro for garnish.”

Steve tries not to roll his eyes, but well, he’s never been the best at keeping a handle on his facial expressions, and Rosie must pick up on some slight twitch in his expression or the exasperated sigh in his “yes, chef.”

“What? Do you think you have better things to be doing? We’re in the weeds and I’m running low on fucking garnishes. Maybe if you were half decent at staging I would have had everything I needed before we were getting fucked in the ass.”

“No, chef. I’m sorry, I’m on it.”

“Good. I don’t miss twice, kid.”

Steve spends the rest of the evening rush by Rosie’s side, dicing in silence like a well-trained dog. He almost misses the call for closing, overstimulated and exhausted both physically and emotionally. All through his closing duties, he’s berated by Sam, the saucier he abandoned firing dishes on his own. He almost doesn’t think he’ll make it through the night, but like always, he does, and drives home on autopilot, hardly registering the traffic as he listens to one of Eddie’s heavy metal tapes to release some of the tension thrumming in his veins. Since culinary school, he’s developed more of a taste for Eddie’s music, finding comfort in the thrumming baselines and heavy drums that make his teeth rattle with how loud it blares through the speakers.

He trudges up the stairs to their apartment, his every muscle alighting in pain. His head is pounding, and he tries to remember the last time he drank water, but days are starting to blur together and he’s not sure he even has today. Still, none of that can stop the smile that erupts over Steve’s features when he sees Eddie waiting for him with dinner set out on the table, despite it being 10 o'clock at night. 

“Hey baby. Rough day?” And Steve just melts into the way Eddie can read him in an instant, falling into his arms with a heavy sigh. He nods silently and inhales Eddie’s scent. He’s just showered and he smells like sandalwood, Steve’s favorite scent. It reminds him of the fact that Eddie changed the bodywash he uses when he discovered that tidbit of information. Eddie isn’t even a particularly huge fan of sandalwood. He doesn’t hate it or anything, it just wasn’t really on his radar until Steve said something, and now he may even love it for the way it makes Steve nestle into his neck and take in deep breaths, sighing at the way it mingles on his skin.

Eddie is no chef and Steve knows that. He doesn’t expect perfection — in fact, after nearly 11 hours of perfection, he prefers a little chaos and junk food. Eddie always delivers, plating up a simple turkey sandwich and potato chips with a vase of flowers and candlelight. 

“I love you,” Steve sighs, settling into his seat which Eddie pushes in for him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I love you too. And I saved you plenty of hot water for a bath when you’re done.”

Steve tucks into his sandwich, eating like he’s been starving in a desert for months. Eddie watches with pure adoration on his face, eating much slower and stopping Steve every couple bites to remind him to drink the ice water he put out. After the first half (Eddie cut his sandwich into triangles. However juvenile, Steve has always found it easier to eat them this way and Eddie finds it adorable), Steve is ready to talk. He regails the evening and the vicious humbling he received after closing in as much detail as he can muster, but frankly the day starts to slip away as soon as he gets home. Maybe it’s the repeated trauma, but his brain has a way of compartmentalizing in a matter of hours. There’s just one complaint that never seems to go away.

“And I’m not even getting paid for any of this!”

Eddie gave up asking if working in kitchens was really worth it after the first week. Steve’s answer was always the same. Despite the mental and physical toll, his goals remained clear. He was going to get through this stupid stage and get a real job in a kitchen until he could save up enough money to one day open his own place dedicated to all the recipes that made him fall in love with cooking in the first place, everything the kids loved when he experimented in the kitchen for them.

Eddie has to drag Steve out of his seat to the bathroom when they finish. Steve’s body aches so bad he could fall asleep at the table. It wouldn’t be the first time and Eddie isn’t letting that happen again, lest he be charged with Steve’s complaints of sore everything in the morning. He draws the bath and puts in epsom salt for the pain and lavender scented bubble bath because it eases the knot in Steve’s mind that has his shoulders permanently pressed to his ears. He helps Steve over the ledge of the tub and gently lowers him into the steaming water. It’s the perfect temperature, nearly scalding just the way Steve likes so he can enjoy the water’s warm embrace as long as possible. They remain quiet as Eddie massages Steve’s legs, working the knots out of his calves and running his thumbs up and down the arches of his feet. Steve lets out an occasional contented sigh, relishing in the fact that Eddie enjoys pampering him just as much as he needs it after a day like today. 

The few unpredictable strands of Eddie’s hair that can never be contained by a bun, no matter how neat, are starting to form loose ringlets. Steve reaches out to wind one around his fingers, moves his hand to his boyfriend’s steam warmed cheeks, and draws him in for a delightfully slow kiss. Eddie’s hands travel up Steve’s legs to his thighs, raising them slightly from the porcelain of the tub so he can run his fingers over his taught hamstrings like the frets of his guitar. He plays Steve nearly as well, no, better, and Steve sings his praises into Eddie’s lips.

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks, his forehead pressed to Steve’s, their breath intermingling in heavy puffs between them. 

“Much.” Steve replies. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation of Eddie’s fingers all over him. His firm, deliberate strokes graze higher up Steve’s thighs, ghosting between his legs and Steve chokes back a whimper. The bubbles hide the way he’s been steadily growing harder, but Eddie’s hands reveal all. He’s not always in the mood after work, but the princess treatment, as Eddie likes to call it, makes his heart swell… amongst other things.

Steve tries to stand, but the bath is still warm and Eddie’s hands hold him in place. “Just relax. Let me take care of you sweetheart.”

“I want to touch you,” Steve whines. 

“You will, but we can take it slow tonight, right?”

And Steve’s mind is foggy, sure, a combination of the long hours and Eddie’s expert touch, but he doesn’t think he’s that foggy until the words just kind of slip out of him. “Yes, chef,” he moans. 

A hand flies up to clasp over his mouth and his eyes go wide. Eddie is silent, watching like a hawk, his hand still and gripping onto Steve’s thigh in a vice grip. “I– I don’t… I’m so sorry. That just came out. Fuck.”

“Woah woah, hold on there big boy. It’s okay. Look, you don’t have to, I know you had a long day, but maybe just… say it again?”

“Y-yes chef.” Steve tries it out, wondering if it will feel foreign in his mouth, but it doesn’t. It feels natural, like an extension of himself, bearing himself raw to Eddie in a rare way he never has before. He wants to feel Eddie prodding at this part of him, taking him apart piece by piece like he has to every other aspect of his soul until now.

“Jesus christ. How does anyone get anything done in that kitchen with you around?”

“You say that every day.”

“Yeah, but now I mean it. You’re walking around all night saying ‘yes chef’ like an adorable little slut. I wouldn’t be able to think straight.” Eddie splashes Steve with the velocity at which he moves his hand to his dick, gripping tight enough to make Steve moan. His head falls back against the tub, the ends of his hair grazing the bubbly warm water. The contrast of cold porcelain against hot skin makes him realize just how hard his whole body must be flushing, damp from the water and sweat mixing on his skin. His hands find the sides of the tub and hold on for dear life as Eddie’s hand pumps and twists up the length of his shaft. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, staring, taking in every expression and breathy noise he releases. 

“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“That’s right. Good boy.”

Eddie’s hand speeds up, sloshing water up all around Steve’s chest. Heat pools in his stomach and Steve feels his balls draw up, nearing the edge in record time from the praise.

“Wait,” he says, dropping a hand down to still Eddie’s wrist.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, stopping instantly, concern lacing his voice. 

“‘M okay. I don’t want to cum yet. Want to fuck you.”

Eddie hums. “I thought I was taking care of you?”

“You can take care of me while I fuck you. Ride me into the mattress.”

“Fuck, Stevie. Let’s go.” Eddie helps Steve out of the tub, drying him just enough that he’s not dripping into the carpet. Steve’s skin is red hot, the heat bubbling over into Eddie’s chest as they collide in a sloppy kiss, hardly breaking apart as they stumble to the bedroom. 

Eddie pushes Steve down onto the bed and hovers over him, admiring. He’s hard and aching, leaking against his stomach and he pulls Eddie into him, crashing their lips back together so hard their teeth clack against one another. Eddie is still fully dressed and that just won’t do. Steve’s hands roam Eddie’s body, feeling and squeezing until he reaches the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Eddie has new tattoos all over his chest, including Steve’s bat, and he loves to kiss over it, sucking bruises into the outline until it’s puffy and sticking out, raised against his milky white skin. Eddie undoes his belt hastily, pulling his pants and underwear off his hips until they fall to the ground with a clank of his belt buckle against the floor. 

“Lay back, I want you inside me.”

Steve groans. “You need to prep?”

“What do you think I do all day when you’re gone baby?”

Steve reaches around between Eddie's cheeks and sure enough he’s loose and pliant, ready to take Steve’s considerable girth. Steve twitches pathetically, precum spurting out of his tip all over the happy trail leading down to his pubes, thinking about Eddie laid out in their bed playing with himself, moaning wildly alone while he waits for Steve to trudge up the stairs to their little apartment with no promise he’ll even be fucked at all. 

“You ready for me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes chef.”

“Shit you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I may have some idea.” Steve smirks, his eyes tracing over Eddie’s frame to his throbbing erection.

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” Eddie straddles Steve’s hips and grabs his cock, lining himself up to sink down                       in one swift movement. 

The room is filled with the sound of their moans, their scents mingling together in a heady musk. Eddie’s hands find themselves on Steve’s chest, squeezing his pecks, a juxtaposition of soft skin and hard muscles sprinkled with thick hair. He bounces up and down at a ruthless pace, grinding his hips down with a little twist each time he sinks to the hilt. Steve falls apart under him, his face burying in the pillow beneath him, catching the cries and spit that pool on his tongue. He wants to plant his feet, drive his hips up and pound back relentlessly, drag more of those wanton moans from Eddie’s throat, but he’s so exhausted, the pleasure only adding to the led in his bones, so he lets Eddie take what he needs, let’s him dedicate his heart to Steve’s pleasure. He’s going to come already after being driven to the edge not five minutes earlier, but he needs to stave it off, hold back until he can be painted with Eddie’s cum. 

But Eddie knows him all too well. Knows every sound, knows the meaning of every pleasured grimace on his face. “Don’t wait for me honey. I want to make you feel good.”

“Can I…”

“Cum inside me baby. Want to feel you fall apart while I milk it out of you.”

Those words are all he needs, coming in thick ropes that paint Eddie’s walls. Steve is sensitive, crying out Eddie’s name as he keeps riding the last of Steve’s hard on, chasing his own pleasure. 

“Come on, Chef.” Steve wraps a hand around Eddie’s dick, stroking him hard and fast. “Need to see you cum on the fly, please.”

“Fuckkkk,” Eddie moans as he cums all over Steve’s chest. He falls boneless into Steve’s open arms. Steve wraps his arms around his neck and rubs a gentle hand up and down his back, kissing the hair matted with sweat against his forehead. 

“We need another bath.” Steve giggles.

“I’ll get a wash cloth. We can shower in the morning,” Eddie sighs, squeezing Steve back and letting his affection pour out in droves. He lifts himself off of Steve and feels his spend leaking out and making a mess. “But maybe we sleep on the couch tonight? I’m not changing the sheets.”

Eddie scurries off to the bathroom so he doesn’t drip all over the carpet and returns a couple minutes later to towel Steve off. He picks Steve up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him to the living room, neither of them being bothered to even put on boxers. Eddie puts on a movie and they drift to sleep in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs and shared body heat so they can both fit on the small couch. The next morning they shower together as promised before Steve has to leave for the restaurant. All day, with every call of ‘Yes, chef!’ he can’t help but think of Eddie and smile to himself. He doesn’t think working in a kitchen will ever be the same again.

[tangledbea]

I was just thinking about Wish and all the blatant references in it. I remember watching it in theaters and at first I thought "Okay cute, the friends are the dwarves, that citizen wants long hair, funny homage, Asha's looking at the stars like Tiana, that's nice..." then it all went downhill to "Just. Stop." by the climax. Especially the Asha/Fairy Godmother theory: as a POC I find that very offensive. Then I realized... Tangled was the 50th DAC movie, and it also had lots of references. (1)

There were all the hidden items in the tower, Pinocchio in the Snuggly Duckling, and the books in the library referencing other Disney movie covers. Not to mention the New Dream scenes that were similar to other DP couples, like the boat (Ariel/Eric), the dying love confession (Belle/Adam) and the whole princess + thief premise (Aladdin/Jasmine). And yet, those easter eggs didn't stop Tangled from being its own unique film. Same goes for Encanto, the 60th movie, and it referenced others, too (2) I think both Encanto and Tangled can still hold up as classic, rewatchable movies despite the anniversary celebrationz because the writers/directors/general crew put the references in the background. They were fun to find out about, but you don't need to know about them to still enjoy it. Wish, on the other hand... I feel like you would have to literally watch all the DAC movies and then some (Mary Poppins) before it even begins to hold up to the standards of the previous 'celebration' films (3) And even then, the story relies on the callbacks to get you to enjoy it. If I stripped Wish of every single Easter egg it had, I'd be left with barely a shell. Meanwhile, if I did the same to Tangled, the result would be pretty much the exact same movie. TLDR: Tangled is a much better anniversary movie than Wish, and that's a fact. So those are my thoughts, thanks so much for reading all this, I appreciate it! :D (4)

The thing is, the other movies you mentioned (Tangled and Encanto) were markers of "how many animated movies they've released" milestones, while Wish was 100 years of the Disney company. It's not the same kind of milestone at all, because it was marking time rather than progress. Not that this is excusing Wish of its disappointing story, but expressing the difference between the movies and the studio's approach to them. Tangled and Encanto (which, by the way, is my second favorite Disney movie from recent years) weren't written to be the 50th movie and the 60th movie. They were written to be their own things and happened to fall in line with the 50th and 60th release. In fact, some numbers had to be fudged a little in order to make Tangled line up with the 50th release, and Encanto was the tenth one after Tangled. Disney didn't even expect Encanto to do well, and were blown out of the water with surprise when it became a smash hit. Where as Wish was "crafted" (I use the word loosely) to be the 100 year celebration of the company.

Every time I find out more about earlier concepts of the film that they opted not to use (the Star being a prince, the king and queen being a power couple villain duo) I get very frustrated and angry about what we could have had. They had some really solid, interesting concepts in there, and they threw it all out the window in order to cram as many references as they could into it. Asha has seven friends (for example), to be the seven dwarfs, but their characters aren't developed at all. They had to tell us what the deal was with color coordination, alliterative names and gimmicks that lined them up with the dwarfs instead of focusing on them at all and making it clear through that who they were supposed to be. Just, "Get it? There's seven of them and this one wears glasses and Asha calls her 'doc' and this one's always sleepy and this one's always sneezing and this one's kind of dopey and this one's grumpy, get it?!?!?!"

I like Alan "I went to Julliard" Tudyk, but not only does he not need to be in every single Disney movie these days, they really didn't have to make Valentino, you know, a thing. "Get it? This is the origin of talking Disney animals, get it?!?!?!?!?!" And they really gave him way too much screen time. I'm often not a fan of the comedy relief animal sidekick as it is (there are some exceptions - some I really like and some I'm neutral to), but boy howdy did they overplay Valentino and make me actively dislike him.

The interesting thing is, I'm not a fan of Raya and the Last Dragon. I don't hate it, but I'm not a fan. I gave it a shot, I watched it, but it left no impression on me. It felt very... Millennial check-listed. POCs, found family, no overt romance but if it's there it's LGBTQ, dragons (cause who doesn't like dragons?), etc. Raya is fine. But for me, it's forgettable. I've only watched it the one time, I barely remember what happens in it, and I have a lot of trouble remembering the characters' names.

But Wish? Wish, I think about often. I have never been so disappointed in a Disney movie as I am with Wish, because Wish has the bare bones potential to be something great. And instead, it's that. What Disney should have done for its 100 year anniversary was make a movie that was finely crafted to show everything they've learned about animation in the past 100 years. I made an observation on a different blog that, when to you take a step back, King Magnifico is a stand-in for corporate Disney, and the whole movie is the crew railing against the corporation stripping the creativity from its workers and not valuing art, even though it’s in the art business. They just want everyone to love them, because everyone always has. Magnifico wants to hoard the wishes the way that corporate Disney wants to hoard talent, and the citizens willingly give up their talent and work because they believe something good will eventually be done with it. It feels to me like the climax of the movie is the artists and animators fighting the good fight against their corporate overlords the same way that actors and writers were striking for so much of 2023. It felt like a battle for the soul of the movie. But although the heroes of the movie win in the end, it was actually corporate who won, because the movie was stripped of all of its heart and soul in order to cram in more references. The artists did what they could, but they still had to follow orders if they wanted the movie to get made.

Oh, and as a side note, you can't just make a mortal human be a literal fairy by giving her a magic stick. That's not how that works.

Anyway, for my money, Once Upon a Studio is a much better homage to 100 years of Disney than Wish ever will be. Anyway, sorry for this incredibly long-winded rant.

[psychogirlfriendandsupervillain]

Other Man's Widow - Chapter 2

Female!Reader x Whitey Winn (Both young adults)

Modernish!AU (it's kinda 1950-60s coded?), inspired by the lyrics of Carrie Underwood's Church Bells and Hoizer's Dinner and Diatribes (Church Bells is the backflashes, Dinner and Diatribes is the vibe of the hot questioning room before the rain).

Warnings: Abuse, domestic abuse, murder, religious trauma(?).

Summary: The young deputy gets sent to comfort a young widow.

A/N: We get to see more of the other Godless characters :D.

Your tentative hands meet the edges of the cup. It is no longer burning to the touch as you lift it slowly to your lips. The air is damp and still your tongue feels dry. The young man across from you watches you take a sip with soft but attentive dark eyes. You push down the discomfort of being observed, hiding it in your handkerchief. 

“How did he seem these last few days? Was he” Deputy Winn pauses, moving his pen in circles in the air and lifting his eyes up, looking for the right expression. “worried about anything?”

He’s sweet, trying hard to not involve you in anything you didn’t know before. His movements, while indicative of his youth and a wandering mind, are reminiscent of how one handles a bird that has flown in through an open window into the kitchen. Your arm itches and you brush a hand over the knit to soothe it. 

“I don’t know about worried, John never tells me about his work. But the last week or so” You grip the handkerchief between your hands again “oh I don’t know.”

“Now any little thing could be important.” Deputy Winn makes a gesture with his hand, as if to soothe your worries.

“He’s been absentminded.” You confide, releasing a sigh. “The phone rang one night and the call seemed to agitate him.” A frown ghosts over your face.

“And when was this?” He takes up the pen again. 

“Tuesday. I’d made shepard’s pie.”

“Any idea what it was about?” Whitey really hates to put her through this. Her face is veiled in held back emotion, flickers showing only in passing, shoulders move with even breaths. The shadows cast by the blinds make her seem to have lost days of sleep. Whitey wishes he could say something to ease your pain, but he knows that isn’t possible. All he can do is focus on his job, get the facts straight for McNue and the others, and maybe he can get you some closure.

You look up from your hands. “Work, he said.”

“Father.” The soft spoken word was loud in the empty hall. Reverend Griffin looked up from the fountain of holy water which he had dipped his hands.

“My child.” His face lit up with joy, eyes crinkling hinting at the smile hidden by his white beard. He waves a large hand. “Come in, you’re always welcome in God’s house.” 

You slipped out from the shadows by the entrance under the organ loft, head lowered with the brim of your hat shutting out against the light shining in through the tall windows. Reverend Griffin’s arm circled around your back, herding you towards the front pew. Your shoes clicked against the stone floor, too loud, like you were taking up too much space. The floral fabric whispers against your legs as you sit down with him, hat in your hands.

“Father, I need advice.” You spoke quietly. “I feel as though I am lacking. I try to be a good wife to my John but my efforts fall short.” With effort you stopped your hands from picking at the seam of your dress. The reverend’s hands came to rest on top of yours, his body leaning forward and you lifted your gaze to his, keeping the side of your face towards him.

“My child, marriage is holy, sanctioned by the Lord himself. There will be trying times, as in all parts of His creation, but the bond between you and your husband is sacred. You will find the way.” His eyes were genuine, but his words stung your eyes and burn your right cheek. You blinked a few times and cleared your throat, returning the squeeze to his hand.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Just down the corridor and to the left.” The young man holds open the door for you. Your dress barely brushes past him and you step out into the hall with a quiet thanks. 

On your way past the barred in front desk you note the spot of bright colour and meet eyes with Mary-Agnes, who is pausing her writing to tuck back an escaped strand of blond hair. The woman had shown you into the room with a firm but kind hand when the police car had dropped you off at the station. She told you that someone would be right with you, and if you had needed anything, you were just to call for Maggie, she’d told you in a warm tone that left no room for protests. You give a small smile to her and she returns a reassuring one. Behind her you see Miss Temple searching in an archive cabinet for some paper. Turning the corner you reach the restroom and close the door behind you. It was a wonder the station had put Maggie on reception desk work, when she had eyes that would pierce your soul if you had been around her longer.

You finish your business and after washing your hands you run the tap as cold as it will go. The water will only provide temporary relief, as you dab wet tissue at your neck. Taking a deep breath you look in the mirror, squeezing the edges of the porcelain sink.

You quietly slipped into the back pew on Sunday morning, the veil on your hat low over your brow. Reverend Goode shifted further in on the bench and you give him a nod in thanks. He wore his white clergy cloak, overseeing the baptism of the Gunners’ little bundle of joy later in the day. Baptisms never had been Reverend Griffin’s self appointed duties. 

As the very man begun his sermon from the front of the room you couldn’t help the venomous glare that shot from under your cover. He had spoken of love on your wedding day. When you came to him, he spoke of marriage being a holy union. On this day he stood up there today preaching about care, and fidelity, when last night you were being beaten so hard you hit your head on the leg of a kitchen stool. That was his friend that did that.

Reverend Goode must have caught your stare because he turned towards you, and even in the shade of the organ loft you could see he saw. As all rose to join a hymn you moved to leave but the soft touch of his fingers against your arm stops you. You turned, face lowered, and the shame in his eyes when you finally met them almost matches the one you feel. The makeup once again felt unnatural on your face, the skin burned where the marks were. He held out his hand, carefully, hopefully, and you took it, held it tight as you joined the hymn.

You did not have to tell him. He knew. As he sat with you after the sermon, he held your hand and didn’t say a word as you both stared at the cross together. 

“What do I do?” You asked, knowing he’d have no answers. Reverend Griffin was the leader of this congregation, and Roy could be out in the blink of an eye if he spoke poorly of the Reverend’s friend. You didn’t want that to happen to him. The town would suffer a great loss if this kind man moved away.

He squeezed your hand, and looking at him in the corner of your eye you could see cracks form in him, as if the reverend was struggling with his faith in the system he was in. Then he took a deep breath and met your eyes.

“Have faith in the Lord, my child.” His voice was grave, eyes urging you to forgive him for his own weakness but to trust his words. “His will be done.”

You nodded. “I will.”

[finishinglinepress]

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Hurt Sounds, is a single chord strum on her father’s guitar, his collection of his records, a broken harmonica. It’s a phone that won’t ring on a birthday, a holiday, or just to say hello. No matter how long we have with our parents, it will never seem like enough time. In Hurt Sounds, Mansfield has allowed a glimpse into the most precious memories she ever shared with her father: his deathbed. #grief #loss #poetry #memories #relationships #grieving #family #fathers

In 2023, Isabella J Mansfield released Lemon, her collection on disability and the intersection of physical and mental health. It spent a lot of time on Best Seller shelves at indie bookstores across the midwest. An avid reader himself, Mansfield can sometimes hear her fathers voice in those very bookstores, boasting, “That’s my daughter!” She lives in Michigan with her husband and son.

PRAISE FOR Hurt Sounds by Isabella J Mansfield – NWVS #185

The title, Hurt Sounds, says it all about this collection of exquisitely personal and painful verses. The sweetness of a father’s love, mixed with the sad distance of divorce and its hammer blows to a child, laid bare in the Senryu “watching my father fall apart requires a strength I do not have.” Yet this collection goes on to prove the amazing strength of this brave poet as she wonders, “what then do I do with an empty box?” This was a powerful read for an old father who kept seeing his own death, and the implications thereof. Damned fine work, I shed a shitload* of tears.

–Dan Carleton, MFA, author of IV What

The poems in Isabella J Mansfield‘s collection, Hurt Sounds, are meditations, even incantations. There is a quiet momentum in these pages while there is a bold courage in looking love and grief directly in the eyes. Loss is a universal reality for everyone, and while these poems have a profound relatability, the visceral emotions within each are uniquely Mansfield’s. These poems are a window into her relationship with her father and about her father, lending to an immediacy with the reader. “The Mahogany Box” muses on the often inevitable experience of feeling lost during times of deep loss. “I worry that I am not grieving correctly/I don’t want him to be disappointed in me even now.” The tanka and senryu peppered through the collection act as gifts, little surprises with the incantatory quality threaded throughout Hurt Sounds. Mansfield’s command of language and imagery is captivating and will no doubt bewitch any reader.

–Carrie McGath, Ph. D., author of Small Murders

Isabella J Mansfield‘s exploration of grief in Hurt Sounds is a testament to a daughter’s love for her father. If he was the one holding the guitar, she is the one with the lyrics. This is a ballad of pain, loss, and the forever longing. The questions we wished we’d asked while our person was still here, and the ways we keep their memory fresh. Hurt Sounds is a stunning collection of the gravity of grief, and how we continue in the aftermath.

–Lynne Schmidt, 2025 Maine Literary Arts Fellow, author of The Unaccounted Circles of Hell, Dead Dog Poems

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[ariswolfram]

City of Ash

Part 1: Death

16,335 P. D., Terrus the 3rd., 17:29

Reach Timeline

Waking up after dying is truly an odd thing... your body has no weight, no mass, and no heartbeat. Your just a soul floating above you're once-conscious body.

Looking down at my cold corpse is equally as odd. I am transparent, with an odd green glow to myself. Still wearing all that I was wearing when I died... which is just a hospital gown. Meanwhile, my body is completely corporal. Though, as a soul, I cannot interact with it. Not like I want to, I'm finally freed of this awful place.

Looking around the room, I can see my body lying in stasis in the hospital bed. The heart monitor attached to my once-living body releasing a muffled, monotone hum. The room is foggy, as if looking through a dense mist.

Several nurses rush into the room and run to the side of my bed. Though, I'm a DNR... so they legally can't bring me back.

Instead, they set a coin down onto my dead body's eyes... I take both coins and pull on them. This action pulls out two translucent grey coins out of the physical coins, like ghost objects, ones I can interact with properly in spirit.

I put the coins into my pocket, and feel the ground shake slightly underneath my feet. Looking outside a window, I spot a train station. Seems a train is just arriving, words plastered onto its side, ‘ST-001-RCH — Soul Transit’. Several other souls who were seated at the station stand up and walk aboard the large vessel.

I rest my hand on the window, only to see it pass through it. I test this some more by pushing my arm through the window, but get interrupted by a loud, powerful voice emanating from the train.

"ALL ABOARD!"

Was that Scourge or Virtue? Ive never heard their voices before, but it sounded more feminine so I'm guessing it was Scourge. But the possibility of it being—

"—JUST GET IN THE FUCKING TRAIN!"

Reading my thoughts now, hm? Isn't that a bit rude?

The train starts moving. I fall out of the building and collapse to the floor in a panic, sprinting toward the train as it makes its way along the tracks. Someone stops me as i attempt to run aboard.

I look at them, getting a bit surprised by their form. Their head is a black hole, with an accretion disc of purple. Their body replicating the lifeless black of the black hole's surface. Almost mesmerizing to look at.

They (somehow) speak, despite not having a distinct mouth, "You have to pay for a ticket first, before boarding..."

"Wh—... when is the next train coming in then?"

"Not long, 15 minutes. Your at a high traffic area, plus your dead. You have no need to worry about trivial things like time..."

"... that's true..."

"Now, you gonna pay for it?"

"Oh! Right," I pass the two coins from earlier over to the Scour, who takes and deposits them into a box, "Sorry about that..."

"No need to apologize, sir." The Scour prints out a black ticket and hands it to me. Words printed on it in Celestial reading, ‘One way trip: Judgement’.

I take it and nod in thanks, and look at the tracks where the train once was, "... 15 minutes more cant be that bad..."

I move to one of the seats lining the inside of the station, and sit down. A moment of respite before being judged is always nice...

And although I know it should feel stressful, I really don't feel all that stressed. Almost like i know I'm in good hands. I mean, I didn't exactly do anything bad in life from what I know. My life was pretty bland.

Though... I did commit arson several times... alongside murder... but that was when I was young, I already served my time for that... right?

By the god's, what if He sends me to Torment?! I don't want to go there, It's literal hell! And if he does send me there, I don't want to be around to feel that pain... But I do kinda deserve it...

I mean, in my past i did some horrible things... And although I did serve time in the material planes, I'm not one to argue Saffron's judgement on my soul... If he says I deserve the 18th level, then I deserve the 18th level...

The next train arrives, snapping me back to reality. I get up and walk aboard, sitting down in a window seat to get comfortable.

After a few minutes, the train starts moving. Following a set of railways that lift off the ground to swerve into the distance.