#it has two legs with toes on its feet

[verrixstudios]

Last Tribe A Day run cycle was today so I decided to combine them all to show the differences!

ID under the cut

[ID: Seven sketchy animated run cycles, all of the original dragon tribes from Wings of Fire. They alternate sides as they go down, starting with the top one on the left and the second on the right, and so on. The background is a blank white. Each dragon has shaded limbs to help see the differences while in movement. The right wing is the darkest shade, followed by the left wing (closest to the screen), the the right legs are the lightest shaded. Descriptions are in order from top to bottom:

Mudwing: Drawn in a dark red. The thickest dragon by far, opening is mouth in a smile as its front legs hit the ground. Its large wings have four toes as if they were a third set of talons, which is used as another set of legs while running. The wings lift off after the back legs. The entire body bobs with its weight while it runs, lunging with its back legs. One of its back legs disappears while it runs (oopsies) and its large tail flicks with the run.

Skywing: Drawn in a darker red. Much skinnier dragon with longer limbs and larger wings. Its large wings remain slight open above its border, slightly bobbing as it moves. The body itself doesn’t move up and down, instead just twisting with movement of its limbs. Its tail is a little stiff, again just moving up and down. As it runs, one foot touches and leaves the ground at a time.

Icewing: Drawn in a dark blue. Its body and shape is ridgid, its head swooping up and down like it lunges with every time its front talons land. Again, its wings are used as a third pair of legs, however they are mostly used after the other limbs are mid-air. Its talons are visibly sharper, as well as its wings. Sharp spines on the back of its neck and end of its tail are visible as well, which bobs with the movement.

Seawing: Drawn in a dark blue. A thicker, long dragon with short but thick limbs and webbed frills along its spine and sternum. It’s thick tail continues the up and down curve it’s body makes with every move, flicking the end of the frills as it does. Its wings are semi open above its body, bobbing with the running movement and tilting up and down as its spine curves.

Sandwing: Drawn in a warm brown. Long limbs but thicker than skywing. All four feet lift of the air when they’re closest during the run, each foot hitting the ground one at a time. It’s barbed scorpion-like tail bobs up and down at the end. Its wings are folded and stuff near its shoulders, tilted diagonally. A solid frill lines its spine, biggest at the back of its neck and above the back legs.

Nightwing: Drawn in a dark purple grey, and by far the stiffest run cycle. Thick body with short but thinner legs than mudwings or seawings. Spikes line the spine all along its body, longest at the back of the neck and back of the body. Its wings are held stiffly and slightly folded over its body. Other than the legs and tail, most of the nightwing barely moves as it runs, and its legs hit the ground in pairs, front legs then back legs. They don’t even cross between each other at the closest part in the run. Its mouth opens and closes as it runs, not in any particular expression, I was just bored.

Rainwing: Drawn in a muted dark green. By far the bounciest run. It has a thin body and a head I accidentally drew a little big. It’s three-toed wings are used as a third pair of legs, used most right before it’s front legs hit the ground. Its front legs hit the ground at different time, however the back legs hit and leave together. Its tail is by far the longest, curled at the end and slightly unraveling as it flicks up and down. Beneath the curved horns is a frill with two connections that slight opens and closes with the movement. It’s grin also opens and closes with the movement.

END ID]

[shishiga]

In the original he's got some clumsy feet, so yeah. I've redone his body composition in general, both here and on the first art. I made him thinner (because that's what he's all about, speed and lightness), but I tried to make the fucking robot have a lean physique. So that despite being light, it felt like a lump of ‘muscle’. So I gave him a voluminous chest but a skinny waist. At the same time, I emphasised his legs in general, just because of his jumping ability. I enlarged his thighs on one axis, increased the length of his legs. I put pistons in his calves and made them more ‘animal-like’ (?). So he can push himself forward. The legs fold in half, you can see that too (all for aerodynamics). The feet have been completely modified. They're longer too, just like an extension of the toe spring. Made two toes instead of ponte slippers, because it's trivially more comfortable that way. He can separate these toes at any time for more grip or combine them together (it's a mountain goat thing, which also fits V1). If you ask why he doesn't have an aerodynamic bib but has a flat nose like a creeper in minecraft, it's already for combat and convenience. A flat surface will withstand more impact or damage from a fall than a pointy nosed bow. I'd also wonder if it needs a bird keel if it flies rather than having wings for ponts :D Just about those things. Basically I turned the keel back on its back and made it a dorsal fin that the blades are just attached to. Done this on the basis that I like to think he's clinging to his arms extra, rather than changing the soo…. yeah. To have a place to cling to, I moved the wings closer to the spine. Generally it's a separate removable part, life doesn't depend on it like a cool jetpack 😎🤙. Bleed more tubes of blood to the outside, oh well. So formed weak spots in his armour to keep V1 from sticking. The strongest are the blue plates, obviously. Then come the black ones, that's the joints, abs, back and legs. There aren't many tubes on the legs. I figured with such a bouncy enemy, they'd be the ones to aim for, so I removed important components from there other than mechanics (Also the reason why the legs are the way they are, especially the thin calves). But the barrels are just softer, that's where the tubes are. According to my idea that's where it absorbs blood.

I'm using a translator, so I hope it came out okay. I can't keep quiet

[redwinelew]

FAVOURITE ROOKIE

type written fic (no part 2 requests pls)

pairing lewis hamilton x female afab driver!reader

summary colapinto, hadjar.... they all can try to win lewis hamilton over but behind closed doors, you and him know that his favourite rookie will always be you, in more ways than one, even if he refuses to admit it publicly. (set right after aus 2025)

warnings 18+. smut. fingering. come swallowing, implied oral m receiving in the end (is that even a thing? idk), not mentioned but implied HUGE AGE GAP (reader is in her early 20s bcs she's a rookie yk). english is not my first language.

author's note in honor of lewis winning the sprint in china 2025 🙏🏽 NO HATE TO FRANCO OR ISACK OR ANY OF THE ROOKIES! THIS IS PURELY FICTION. this came to me at 5am after having a dream about lewis. that's it that's all i'm gonna say lmfao

masterlist | gif credit | divider credit

you are not the jealous type. and in this case, you don't even have the right to be.

but you are no liar either so to pretend like you were fine with lewis giving out compliments and lifting up these rookies since last year for doing absolutely nothing were not getting to you would be the lie of the century.

the way lewis vouches for franco colapinto saying that he’ll be doing everything in his power to make sure the argentinian has a seat this year to how instantly isack hadjar have earned the love and approval from not only formula 1 fans around the world but from lewis' father himself.

while lewis never even acknowledges you publicly, as if you never existed. in a world where everbody seems to be willing to kiss his feet for only a split second of him glancing at their way, you were the opposite. at least publicly. the one rookie who always goes toe to toe with him on track since your debut in 2024. always calling him out in his bullshit. on the nice guy persona he puts on in front of the media, knowing he's anything but, whether in public or in bed.

like right now.

it's merciless, the way he has been depriving you from your release for the past 15 minutes. two calloused fingers, decorated by his expensive rings, deep inside you more than anyone has even been. his other hand holding you by your stomach from behind, your back plastered against his inked chest. legs spread open for him on his thick thighs, his pulsing length pressing against your back. his hot breath blowing against your neck from behind, murmuring dirty whispers that you're unable to properly digest, as digits continue to tease you.

"told you i'll give you what you need. you just have to be patient. but you just had to be a brat, didn't you?"

"i have been patient." you bite back with an attitude, your sentence carries a double entendre. though he can tell how your voice was wavering more and more with every second that passed.

"really? you want me to believe you're a good driver, for me to praise you in front of those journalists and yet you've done nothing to earn it. just like how you've nothing to deserve to come."

his fingers pick up the pace, the pad of his thumb flicking lazily over your already sensitive clit. you mewl, your body melting under his touch.

"i.... i won. i b-beat you. isn't that worthy of some kind of praise? p4 in a williams, against p10 in a ferrari." you try to argue back, but as his fingers fasten its speed, you find it harder and harder to form words.

lewis chuckles, a deep vibration from his chest that leaves his lips near your ear sending chills down your back.

"sweetheart, you had a lucky day. you won't be having one again."

you ruined australia for him, just like you have always did in almost every race since last year. but 2025 is different. melbourne was his first race in red. he had come to the city with a firm determination that nothing and no one can ruin his chance of becoming the most feared driver on the grid anymore. he will make the 8th championship dream a reality. no more mercedes, no more of those pieces of crap they called a car. he will be having a good time with ferrari.

but you.... you and your bitchy attitude thinking you own the track, that you are better than everyone else. always getting in his way. he could have stood on the podium, scoring at least a p3 if you didn't ruin it for him.

he knows why you're doing this though. you are a good driver, he knows that. but everybody knows from the get go that you won't have a future with a team like haas if you stay with them in 2025. and it would be a damn shame to waste this kind of talent on another lower tier team. you needed a boost. a lift from a figure influential enough within formula 1 to help the other teams see your potential.

that's what you've been trying to do. to earn lewis' approval publicly, as colapinto has done. yes, he still ends up as alpine reserve driver but it's not only about that. he took every chance he's got to be around lewis, talk to him, leaving a lasting impression on the brit.

how were you ever able to do that when colapinto has already taken those chances?

that's the thing about you. despite your bratty attitude and cocky nature, you still desperately want approval from him. from him and only him. from the greatest of all formula 1. the man whose name is bigger than the sport itself.

you didn't have a choice. maybe by doing this the hard way, you'll get to make lewis see you, acknowledging you. and the hard way in question is on track, sometimes crashing against him and in bedroom, literally getting him hard for you.

you don't even remember how it started. first you were banging on his hotel room, the next you were spread out on his lap, him shutting you up with his fingers so far up your guts.

like right now.

you want to tell him that he's wrong. that you've proven yourself worthy of praise more than once. you were on the podium last year only a few races in your rookie year, driving a goddamn haas. but then he curls his long, nimble fingers inside you and you forget everything you were thinking about and all you can think about is how you're craving for more.

it's frustrating the effect that he has on you. his british accent. that deep, velvety voice that you fantasized about whispering the filthiest things that you wish he'd do to you in your dreams. that million dollar, ego-filled smirk decorating his thick lips as he keeps you on the edge.

"i'm- f-fuck, i'm a lot better than you think i am."

"yeah? and you could be better, even in a williams. if you just lower your goddamn ego for a minute, i'll be more than happy to teach you, take you under my wing, give you what you want, as long as you know your place."

and that's the thing about him. he's well aware of the impact he has on you. on everybody. he knows how the only approval you strive for is his, desperate for it even. he knows with one good comment, all the attention from the top tier teams would shift on you. they would have eyes, watching your performances. because when lewis hamilton, the seven times world champion says that you're good, a lot of people would be curious to see if he's right.

and it's not only praises about your performances on track that you've been desperate to get an approval of, it's in bed as well. he found it amusing at first, how you're so easy to read. how easy it is to reduce you to nothing but a whimpering mess without having to do much. how deep down you're desperate for his attention, to be a good girl for him.

"i d-dont need you to be my teacher, i don't need your charity." you say, stubborn as ever but just as quickly, he curls his fingers against that spongy spot inside you and you whimper.

"yeah? and who, since their first race practically followed me around the paddock like a puppy, chasing for my attention, hmm? you say you don't want my charity and yet you let me fuck you stupid every week after practice hoping i'll talk about you during press. and i haven't. and you still let me come inside you."

fuck. how the hell does he always know what to say to rile you up? he's always be spawning these facts that you couldn't even deny because they are true. not to mention, the number of times you came to his hotel room just to try to get him to say something. anything that might imply that you're at the very least, a good driver. and the number of times you were on your hands and knees in order to make it happen, letting him play with you however he pleases, only to be lead to disappointment before qualification and race day, receiving absolutely nothing as reward from him.

and you hate yourself for always coming back to him, keeping the cycle alive, and let yourself getting your hopes up for something that you knew would take miracle to happen.

worse, you hate yourself for getting addicted to him now.

"i hate you." you tell him through gritted teeth but it sounds so weak even you don't believe what you were saying.

"yeah? and do you usually let the people you hate touch you like this?" he replies smartly with a chuckle before withdrawing his fingers, much to your dismay. the empty feeling only makes you even more needy, silently begging to be filled again but before you can complain, he's shifting you, placing you down flat on the bed, your back on the sheets and he's between your legs in a matter of seconds.

"you hate that you need me so damn much, isn't that right? you just couldn't get enough anymore." he teases. you glare at him while simultaneously letting out a whine.

none of what he just said was wrong.

"i don't need you." you deny stubbornly, telling him the exact opposite of what you were just thinking about.

"yeah? and if i ask you to spread your legs for me, you'd do it, wouldn't you? anything for my attention, to please me."

you want to hate him. you want to fucking kill him. to punch him in the face. make him bleed. make him regret for toying with you like this. you want to deny him. you want to push him off and make him see that he really doesn't have any power over you. but then, he sucks a hickey on that sweet spot on your neck and whispers in your ear....

"please?"

fuck.

your mind goes blank.

you couldn't stop the whimper from leaving your lips. his plea is what did it to you. the way his voice goes from firm and commanding to soft and pleading and the way you're unable to deny him anything when he's like this. or ever. a pair of big brown eyes fluttering slightly, his voice barely above a breath before whispering so sweetly into your ear with that accent of his.

how were you supposed to say no?

so you find yourself spreading your legs for him. just like he asked you to.

lewis chuckles in amusement, and you swallow thickly at how easily he switches back to his dominating persona.

lewis doesn't waste any more time lining up his hard cock to your entrance, cursing silently after seeing how just soaked you are for him.

"good girl. now this is exactly why you're my favorite."

you just won in china. and with lewis winning the sprint race a day earlier while also scoring p2, you and him sit in the press conference room. not wanting to sit so close to him, you purposely ask lando who gets p3 to sit in the middle. it's an odd order, but he didn't question it and neither did the journalists. they're all well aware of the little rivalry that you and lewis have going on. even when rumours have start circulating about the white flags you two have raised.

one journalist raises her hand. last question of the day before you are free from the press responsibility and free to celebrate with your team and friends.

and maybe spend some time in a hotel room with a certain someone.

"you and lewis started off on the wrong foot last year but it has been noted that even before you two shared the podium today, you and lewis were hanging out in the paddock, having lunch and just basically spending time together before the race starts. would you say that you and him are now on a better terms with each other?"

you swallow, scratching the back of your neck. you manage to steal a glance at lewis and sees him lowering his gaze slightly with the nonchalant look on his face.

"fuck, you always take me so well, don't you? this tiny pussy just made for my cock."

"such a good girl for me, baby."

"swallow it. every last drop."

you blink, trying to push aside the memory from after the race in australia, the last time you and lewis were together intimately. you clear your throat when is suddenly feels dry, before locking eyes with the journalist.

"umm, yeah. we uh.... we managed to sort it out. umm.... yeah, it's like you said. me and lewis started out on the wrong foot. it took us a while to uhh.... get here. but we're okay now. that's all that matters."

"lewis? anything to add?" the journalist asks for his input next.

lewis simply shakes his head. "she took the words right out of my mouth."

your breath hitches in your throat again. fucking double meaning.

the journalist nods, satisfied with both your answers.

"you're alright, mate?" lando asks out of the sudden, placing his hand in your shoulder gently with his head leaning sideways toward you. there's a hint of concern in his voice.

"hmm?" you frown.

"your voice is kind of hoarse. you're alright?"

in the corner of your eyes, you could see lewis smirking. he doesn't even try to hide it as he glances at you. it was only for a split second but it brings back the memory from today, right before the race.

"fuck, i miss your mouth so much, baby."

"you look so pretty like this with your mouth full of my cock."

"better make me come soon, yeah? don't want anyone from your team finding you on your knees like this for me, do you?"

shivers run down your spine before you smile awkwardly at lando, rubbing his knuckles on your shoulder, hoping that him and everybody in the room couldn't see right through your bullshit.

"yeah 'm fine, mate. just.... dehydrated."

[mwahbabe]

pls write pussydrunk abby anderson pls pls pls 🙏🏿

mdni, smut, cunnilingus (r!receiving) overstimulation, sweet romantic abby, not proofread.

a/n: ugh where is my abby lookalike and actalike:,(

abby has been between your thighs for nearly an hour now. you’re so damn sensitive but you’re so needy. like your brain is gone dumb and all you wanna do is cum over and over.

you’ve done that about 7 times now on abbys tongue, her strong arms on your thighs keeping them apart as she devours you.

“abs–fuck… mmhh..” your head’s thrown back against the pillows sometimes looking down at abby as she was up in it. “god baby… fuckin love this pussy-shit.” she mumbled between licks and sucks. “taste so fuckin good.” you gave a whine as she kept moving her head in the way that had your head swimming. her nose bumping your clit each time. “ahh.. shit.” “yeah? gonna cum again princess? fuckin give me another one, yeahh there you go.” she rambled against your quivering cunt.

your eyes roll back and gave a soft cry and a gutteral moan as you came again. your toes curling and thighs shaking, abby had you looking possessed. her arm muscles flexing deliciously as she firmly held you by your thighs not letting you get away, still lapping at you as your walls pulsed.

“so fucking good..”

abby pushed your legs back, your legs bent at the knee, getting even better access to your perfect cunt, after barely letting you recover, she was down and at it again, you whine and jolt in her grasp. “abbbyyuh.” you protest, your poor pussy sensitive and overstimulated. abby groaned against you, her mind blank except for the taste of you and the cutest moans you were giving her. “one more baby.” she said, the same thing she had said to you the 3rd 4th 5th and 7th time. “abbyyy.. “ you whine again trying to get her attention, she couldn’t answer you, her mouth a little preoccupied. “sweet fuckin pussy”

she lifted you up by your hips and began to move you up and down on her tongue, you loudly give a broken moan, your body was on fire, you were sweating, the bed was now covered in your cum and arousal, you whine as your maybe 8th orgasm approaches, abby’s jaw is aching but she’s too far gone to care as she works you through it mercilessly, until you give a strained cry as you get her face and neck all wet.

as you come down and the high subsides and the overstimulation sets in, it begins to feel uncomfortable and hurts. “abs…” you weakly spoke closing your legs and pulling back. “no more… it’s staring to hurt now..” you chuckle softly at the way abby’s eyes are all blown out and her mouth and chin and neck just covered in your juices. “yeah? had enough?” she rasps, wiping her face and sitting up. her muscles flexing deliciously. abby had been on her belly for nearly half an hour now. you nod, your eyes lidded, “fuck.. you did so good babe. c’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

abby pulls your body up and lifts you up off the messy sheets and takes you to the bathroom setting you on the sink counter while she ran a bath, a shower wasn’t ideal since you could definitely not stand up right now. she puts the stopper in the drain and then runs a hot bath for the two of you, adding your favourite essential oils making the bathroom smell like lavender and mint. “c’mon angel.” she lifts you up off the counter setting you on your feet still holding you so you could step into it. the hot water stings at first until you sink into its embrace. sighing as the water laps at your sore body, abby does the same after you, getting in behind you, wrapping her strong arms around you resting her head on you shoulder.

the rest of the evening is spent in the bath until both of you prune up and then abby makes you whatever food you want to fill your tummy and then rubs your back until you fall asleep on her.

[johnbrand]

Future Plans

“Don’t mind if I just pop these off real quick.”

Luke readjusted awkwardly on his yoga mat, carefully watching as Mr. Bergstrom plopped each of his massive feet out of their equally massive prisons.

“Oof!” Mr. Bergstrom exclaimed as he leaned forward to massage his feet. “These things have quite the kick to them.”

“Proof of a good workout?” The 18-year-old replied, unsure of how to continue forward with the conversation. He had not spoken to Mr. Bergstrom in almost six months, so it had come as a surprise when the middle-aged man had pulled him aside at the gym to discuss Luke’s "future plans".

Mr. Bergstrom chuckled, “I guess so.” Both sets of eyes followed Mr. Bergstrom’s hands as they peeled the grimy socks away, exposing two long, firm soles. The socks were then tossed aside between the pair. After a moment Luke was able to pick up on their slightly cheesy funk.

“Mr. Bergstrom, if you don’t mind me asking,” Luke knew he was treading on rocky ground. “Why did you want to speak with me?”

“As I said, I wanted to hear what your plans were moving forward.” Mr. Bergstrom put his calloused paws to work, rubbing away and massaging his feet. “My son already told me you’re going to a different university, I’m just curious to hear your reasoning.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably. He and Mr. Bergstrom’s son had grown up together, been best friends from elementary through most of high school. Mr. Bergstrom had practically been a second father to Luke, to the point that Luke’s own parents joked that they should have been paying for child support. That was until Luke had come out. Mr. Bergstrom promptly banned his son from ever speaking with “that homo” again.

“Well, I was offered a really great scholarship from the school. My grades were excellent this year, and my test scores were pretty much the same.” Luke was not trying to be boastful. “They are hoping to fast-track me through the engineering program, my counselor said I’ve got some real talent.”

The bustling noises of the busy gym were present, but dampened by the closed doors of their private studio. Mr. Bergstrom continued his cooldown, stretching his legs. “You know they’re just buttering you up, right?”

Luke’s face grew warm. Mr. Bergstrom continued, “You don’t really think your talents will be utilized by furthering your education, do you?”

Embarrassed, Luke found himself looking down. He would be leaving for college in a week, he already had made his mind up. He could not understand why Mr. Bergstrom was trying to convince him otherwise.

“I know you miss my son, Luke. And I know you miss me.” Mr. Bergstrom started, a friendly smirk smearing itself onto his face. Luke was familiar with that smile, its fatherly warmth attempting to lure him in. But he resisted, its friendliness almost artificial. “You should be less concerned about education and more focused on rebuilding the bridges you’ve burned.”

“What do you mean?” Luke queried without lifting his head.

“You can get a degree at any point of time in life,” Mr. Bergstrom argued. “But if a relationship has broken apart, you only have so much time to fix it.” Mr. Bergstrom’s fingers interlocked between his toes, smoothly caressing each of the pockets in between. “Your time at university will be, what, four years? But the bonds you make with others are for a lifetime. It would be selfish to put your own wishes before others, especially those you’ve hurt. And if this university really wants you, then they will be willing to wait."

Mr. Bergstrom sighed, "As an adult, it’s my responsibility to tell you this kind of stuff.”

Luke’s face was still flushed, but no longer out of embarrassment. The odor of Mr. Bergstrom’s feet had by now completely filled the room, its pungent, sour funk somehow warm.

“So, what do you suggest I do?” Luke’s eyes began to water, although it was unclear if it was out of despair or a reaction to the feet in front of him. Luke only realized now that this entire time he had been staring at the older man’s soles dancing in front of him.

“Put your actual talents to good use, kiddo,” Mr. Bergstrom’s face lit up with that fatherly pride once more, its affectionate smile inviting. The affirmation felt good to Luke. “You should cancel your college plans for the time being so that you can focus on your relationships. A gap year or two, or maybe three, or as long as it takes to make up for lost time.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to be best friends with your son again?” Luke asked.

“Well, he already left for school a few days ago, so he won’t be back until the winter holidays.” Luke was a bummed to hear this, beginning to reconsider Mr. Bergstrom’s offer. But before Luke could escape, Mr. Bergstrom wiggled his thick toes, drawing him back in.

“But in the meantime,” Mr. Bergstrom’s tone held its protective tone, as if it was only offering what was best for Luke. “You can work on rebuilding our relationship. You can live with me so your parents think you’re still at school, except I will be your professor. Won’t that be fun?”

Luke’s body began to tingle. Subconsciously, he could sense danger. But there was something so alluring about Mr. Bergstrom’s feet. His thick, juicy feet and their nauseating, mesmerizing, heterosexual scent.

“Whaddya say, kiddo? Do you trust me?” Mr. Bergstrom asked. 

Luke’s reply came out robotically, “...Yes.”

Mr. Bergstrom smirk reappeared, although this time the mask was off. It was now cocky, assured, but yet still familiar, as if this was not the first time. “Good boy, then lets give you your first assignment.”

The sweetness in Mr. Bergstrom’s voice had completely disappeared. “How about you start servicing these big manly feet." Mr. Bergstrom then threw one of his dirty socks right into Luke’s face, its sweat a metaphorical stamp on his future. "And while you’re at it, you can suck on this like the pathetic little faggot you are."

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) LOVE BELT.

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: MYOSOTIS (FORGET ME NOT).

a/n: [fem!reader] AHHHHH FIRST BLLK POST!!!!! LASTEST FIXTATION!!!! hopefully not too ooc huhu, hope pt1-ers find pt2~

— characters: isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

part two ! ♡ chigiri, rin, bachira

isagi yoichi ; love belt - jonghyun, yunha

ties your shoes for you!!!!! doesn't care if it holds back the group or how long it makes them stop for. double knot, never too tight (the occasional times my guy friends tie my laces i swear i lose circulation in my feet 😔).

embodiment of a beabadoobee song! hes such a sweetheart (apart from on the field) n' kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips or on your eyelid, holds you a little higher than your hip and hugs you with his arms supporting your back from beneath.

your mama loves him more than you do, i fear (ᵕ—ᴗ—) bro fr pulled up to your house with a rose for your mama and a mug for your dad, because who is he to pull up to his girlfriend's house without gifts for your parents? (with intentions of getting to know what they're like so the wedding goes smooth) how can you expect your mama not to fall for him after he offers to help wash the dishes?

learns all the little things you like, has a note on his phone with your fruit tea and coffee order. knows what type of materials you like, especially to the girls who have sensory issues 🫡. he always has you in mind, buying hoodies and shirts that not only he likes, but you like

in conclusion, spectacular gimme 14 more of em'

kunigami rensuke ; no. 1 party anthem - arctic monkeys

ALWAYS THE FIRST TO INITIATE. always plans dates first. has anniversary ideas months prior. he has your order memorized and makes sure the date won't ruin your latest set of nails.

holds your leg when you bounce it ! very worried when you do. always looks around for a little. is it cold? are there weird guys?

he's so boyfriend i just wanna kiss him, tells you to wear whatever you want because he can fight (#needthat)! kunigami one of the most boyfriend in the show pre wildcard! ദ്ദി(•̀ ᴗ - ) ☆

do you guys know that trend when there's a girl then her boyfriend comes in and swoops her away (or is it just me HELP hopefully i don't sound crazy)?? but he does it so effortlessly omg. didn’t spend that long in the gym for nothing

mornings are the hardest because his diligence and discipline for the gym are out of the roof. but he’s not completely heartless! kunigami feels really bad as you sleep uncomfortably without him, tossing and turning just missing the grasp that once held you. worst bit is when you wake up the same time as him, but you’re a lot sleepier, resulting in you weakly catching his wrist. breaks his heart whenever he has to go and presses a chaste kiss to your temple >3<

holds your waist on public transport. smells like axe body spray /hj

nagi seishirou ; no one noticed - the marías

BLANKET HOG!!!!!! unfortunately, you're always cold because sometimes you can find yourself freezing your toes off in the middle of the night because this little sloth feeds off warmth. if not wrapping the entire blanket around himself, is practically on top of you with his nose nestled in the crook of your neck and his lips basically on your collarbone as you run your hands through white locks (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

fiddles with the hem of your shirt or loose drawstrings on your pants. his hand in the pocket nearest to your butt, fidgets with your rings and knows which ones go on which finger by heart.

very very very immersed when you paint your nails or get them done. but nagi takes a good 5 minutes to stare at them (especially if there's charms on them) and a girl would be confused. but in reality, he just really likes them (but, he'd prefer if they'd run through his hair instead).

doesn't get the stuff on tall shelves on purpose SUPER SENIOR ALERT WEE WOO WEEWOO!!!!!!! either because its "too much of a hassle" or because he wants to get a reaction out of you (cruel)

falls asleep in movies sooo quickly its adorable. 30 minutes into the movie his head is on your shoulder. scared, due to his tall nature that he'd get neck pain when he wakes up, you have to gently pat him awake (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ and he'll ask you to carry him (???)

reo mikage ; love maze - BTS

zip up your jackets, wraps your scarves. holds your hands when your cold and rubs them with his!!!!

reo's favourite place to kiss you is your hand. craves the intimacy of it all. as his princess what the hell are you doing without a kiss to your hand before every door you open? (you don't remember the last time you opened a door before you started dating reo)

apart from the soccer club, most likely plays in a band as well. occasional school-related gigs here and there and a few enjoyable get-togethers with his friends to just play whatever. watch his performances! (SOOO cheesy!!!! says "this is for you, [name]" before he starts his pasilyo cover.)

cooks' breakfast on hard weeks. when everything seems to be falling apart, your boyfriend will always be there to help you pick up the pieces, even if it's just the little things. when you're sick GYATT DAHH will you be feeling better in days!!!!! he'll keep distance but won't hesitate to move a strand of hair from your mouth as he spoon feeds you or place the back of his hand on your forehead. but also, doesn't mind being sick if it meant you were ok.

promise rings promise rings promise rings. did i mention promise rings? its either the crazy big, expensive diamond or a simple one in silver that has his initial on the inside <33

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅲ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 ⁾²

part one

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₇˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, demon/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus (both receiving), overstimulation. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: with your escape from your kidnapping, you find yourself now stranded in a world unfamiliar to you, how will you get home?

꒰m!demon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝒴 ou find yourself lost in thought, pondering how long you've been sitting outside. Your trusty (albeit broken) silver watch stubbornly displays midnight, but time seems irrelevant in this alternate world where minutes stretch into eternity. The rhythmic patter of raindrops keeps you company on the balcony, drawing you in with its soothing melody. Despite the allure of a cozy bed mere steps away, you remain entranced by the stormy night. Rain has always been your sanctuary, a source of comfort in turbulent times. And much like the rain, you find beauty in the fog that accompanies it, shrouding the world in a veil of mystery and distorting the passage of time.

In this enchanting world, you find yourself drawn to its allure. The raindrops fall delicately, resembling glittering diamonds, while the thick and mesmerizing fog gracefully enveloped everything in sight. Despite its seemingly monotonous nature, the sound of rain became a melody that resonated with your soul, especially during the serene nights when your neighborhood fell into a peaceful slumber. However, you were no longer in the comfort of your own home. Instead, there was a certain allure in venturing outside in this strange world during your unconventional waking hours, embracing the rain as it transformed the radiant light of the two moons into a muted glow amidst the stormy clouds. The lantern lights shimmered briefly, casting a magical glow before fading away. This was the embodiment of tranquility.

Your eyes trail to where the last lantern light on the garden flickers out, and your body turns rigid as something, tall, lanky, and dark comes slinking your way, well not necessarily your way, but down the path in your direction. The rain intensifies, drumming against the balcony railing and soaking your legs and feet. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you? You were stressed and scared. A crashing sound of thunder startles you, a trail of goosebumps crawling up your arms. The sensation of them developing sends a quiver down your spine, one that leaves your bones rattling and achy.

As the rain continues to pour down heavily, the path ahead becomes a blur, even with the faint light of the moons flickering through the clouds. You can almost feel the wetness of the soil beneath your feet, the sensation of it squishing between your toes. The raindrops relentlessly peck at your face, while the gentle rustling of the trees creates a comforting hum. It's as if Mother Nature herself is embracing you. Suddenly, a sharp pang of unease shoots through your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open.

You raise your head from its tilted position and peer down the path below the balcony. It's not a long stretch, the length of a car and then some. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot something peculiar. The figure that had been walking along the trail earlier, which you had dismissed as a figment of your fear, now stands at the end of your balcony. It is drenched and covered in a mysterious black substance. Although still tall, it no longer possesses its unnaturally thin appearance.

A terrifying grin stretches across its mouth, revealing a multitude of razor-sharp teeth, causing an uncontrollable scream to burst from your lips. In a frantic scramble, you seek refuge within the confines of your room, desperately hoping to evade the horrifying sight. The name you scream had meant to scream was Elmira, but out came, "U-Ulysses!" Your body turns into a puddle of goo, hot, sappy goo when a large hand settles over your eyes to obscure your vision. "Well aren't you a troublemaker?" he remarks, his eyebrows minutely creasing at the warmth emanating from your forehead and skin. As your hand rests upon his, he takes note of the clamminess of your palm.

"Do you like the rain?"

Amidst the relentless downpour, his voice cuts through the noise, smooth and velvety. It's reminiscent of savoring a fine whiskey, leaving a warm trail down your throat. You can't help but wonder if he tastes just as divine or otherwordly, and that thought alone makes your eyebrows furrow softly. You can feel his eyes on you, curious and searching. Knowing. Your words come out almost incoherent, but he doesn't seem to mind. His hearing is ten times sharper than yours, after all. Your voice, like a serene lake, barely makes a ripple. As your lips part, his eyes follow every movement with unwavering attention.

“I do.”

The rain has been falling relentlessly for hours, the constant pitter-patter on the ground and roof soothing you into a cozy and passionate state. Your affection for the rain is unwavering, it's a love that will never fade. Observing it brings back memories of your dreams, those beautiful dreams where you're standing in a vast field, letting the rain drench your clothes and moisten your skin. It's just you and the raindrops. The rain brings you solace. That's why you have no qualms about watching it endlessly.

“Do you like the rain?”

Your question catches him off guard, yet he craves the feeling of vulnerability you display by trusting and relying on him, despite your previous lack of trust.

“No.”

As your sight remains obscured, you're swiftly hoisted off the ground, the creature beneath you fading from your mind and your heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm. You hesitate to inquire further, realizing you're essentially a prisoner in this situation, with him as your captor.

“Why.”

As you both walk in silence, there is a sense of comfort that envelops you. It's a silence that doesn't make you feel awkward or embarrassed about the lack of response from him. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind - where exactly are you heading? Although the bed assigned to you wasn't too distant, it feels like you've been strolling together for quite some time.

"Where are you taking me?"

As soon as your question leaves your lips, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoes through the room. Suddenly, you find yourself being gently placed onto a much larger bed than the one you were initially provided. "You'll be staying in my quarters until I can resolve the issue with the infestation,"

As your vision returns, you sit upright on the bed and fix your gaze upon him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Are you talking about mice? Or rats?" A blush spreads across your cheeks when he glances at you sideways, emitting a small chuckle devoid of humor. "Sure," he replies.

Sliding off the bed, you cross your arms protectively over your chest. "I won't be staying in a room with you. Find me another one." His eyebrow quirks and his eyes narrow, causing you to take a step back instinctively. "I have no intention of laying a finger on your body, especially considering you're human," he retorts. Offended, your mouth hangs open in disbelief and you take a step towards him.

"I wouldn't let you touch me, even if you begged!" Your words are sharp as he approaches. "Calm yourself, ao bewl ¹, I'll be in the next room over." ( my love )¹ A sudden wave of heat washes over you, causing your vision to blur and your breath to quicken. Ulysses remains unfazed as he steps closer, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, his other hand lifting to touch your chin and check your forehead. "Silly woman, how long have you been out in the rain?"

Ulysses notices your lack of response and tenderly lifts you up from your slouched position against him, carefully placing you back in bed. "The rain in Lomaliue is unlike anything you've experienced in the Upper Realm," he whispers under his breath, his cool hands gently brushing against your forehead and then your neck. You peer at him through blurry eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is this the end for me? Am I dying? I'm dying, right? " Fear grips you as tears stream down your face, and the room starts to spin around you.

The Demon can't contain his amusement and lets out a deep, rich chuckle. "Come now, little human, no need for theatrics. You're not dying. It's simply the unfamiliar weather and atmosphere of the Under Realm that's causing you discomfort. You'll be alright." Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, drenching your hair and clothing, leaving little to the imagination. A wave of intense pain surges through your abdomen, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut. "It hurts, it hurts."

Ulysses sighs and softly caresses your complexion from top to bottom, hovering just slightly over your face. Your eyes slide shut and sleep takes over. He doesn't even startle or rise when Elmira enters the room, eyes worried. "She'll be fine, bring my papers from the office here, cancel the board meeting, and rearrange it a sennight from now." Elmira nods obediently and laces her hands behind her back. "Of course Master." Before she can turn to leave, he he adds, "The Guard, have them hunt down the Helkuma that made its way in. I'll be conducting a border check to identify any lapses in security."

"Yes Master." Elmira leaves the room and shuts the door behind her softly, leaving the two. Ulysses rises from the bed, intending to make his way to the plush velvet couch, but his progress is halted by a gentle tug on his loose tunic. Your small, tender hand clings to him with an intensity that suggests a desperate need for his presence, while the worry lines between your eyebrows deepen. "It seems I've been mated to a clingy human."

For the next coming days, Ulysses spends his time doting on you as you're in and out of sleep, while also doing a lot of the work that had piled up in his absence. Surprisingly, in your drowsy state, you show no fear towards him; in fact, you become quite affectionate and touchy. On the seventh day, your fever finally breaks, and your pretty eyes no longer hold that bleary look of exhaustion and pain; it soothes Ulysses more than he cares to admit. Elmira hands him another stack of reports, her smile tinged with guilt as she notices his exasperated glare. "Just a few more to go, and we'll be done, except for the east wing reconstruction," she says, but stops when he raises one of his hands (from his third arm, the others are busy with paperwork) "Don't remind me."

Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump

The feline demon's ears twitch as your heart rate quickens. "Master, My Lady has awakened," he hums in acknowledgment, placing the two out of the three pens down and rising from the desk he had relocated to the room. "Ask the Chef to prepare a light meal and gather medicine and a sweet treat." Carrying a few crucial documents, he settles onto the plush velvet couch, flipping through them. Elmira nods in understanding and swiftly exits the room, gently closing the door behind her.

"I am aware that you are awake, my dear 'captive'."

He finds your bewildered grunt incredibly amusing, much more than he had anticipated. With a slight chuckle, he resumes his task of signing, paying no attention as you ungracefully slide out of bed and stumble toward the couch farthest from his position. Wrapped in the sheets, you look absolutely adorable, with it trailing behind you as you settle into the comfortable couch. "What time is it? What day?"

"It's been a sennight since you've come down with fever, that makes it Woedenes dæg, and it's noon." He steals a quick glance at his watch, indicating that he's running out of time and you have a feeling that he's about to go. "Which also means I have my meeting soon." And your intuition was spot on.

Ulysses stands up and carelessly tosses the pages onto the table. "Elmira will bring you something to eat. Take a brief stroll in the gardens and enjoy the fresh air. Just remember, not more than 10 minutes. Your body needs time to adjust to this environment."

You give a slight nod, feeling a bit disoriented and not up for a debate, the situation still feeling surreal. A sudden feeling of bashfulness overtakes you, making your cheeks burn. "Have you been here the entire time?" "Yes, the employees here are not accustomed to dealing with humans. You're also mine. My responsibility and I allowed you to become ill, and for that, I am sorry."

Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, but it comes crashing down when he finishes. "I also didn't want to put them through the pain of your snoring and clinginess." Ulysses finds amusement in the glare you send his way, observing as you settle back into the couch, appearing at ease in his presence. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Hurry and get out." His eyes soften and a smile quirks his lips, "I'll come to visit you after." You huff and wave him off with a middle finger. "Don't bother!" Your voice trails off weakly as he walks out, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Just as you are lost in your own thoughts, Elmira enters the room carrying a tray of steaming soup. Her face lights up with a warm smile, and her steps exude a contagious energy. "My Lady, I'm overjoyed to see you recovering. Your illness had the entire castle in a frenzy, and the servants have been sending their good wishes." It's puzzling, isn't it? You were just an ordinary person who stumbled upon this grand castle one day. Your interactions were minimal, and you couldn't even recall the names of those you encountered. So why all the fuss?

Elmira seems to read your mind and responds with a gentle smile. "In the sennights you've been here, your presence has brightened this place. The Gardeners feel like they have a purpose, the Chef gets to cook more often and the other maids love to dote on you." The Garden. The mere thought of dining in the garden brings a smile to your face as you sit up from your previously huddled position. "Elmira, I would like to eat in the garden."

The walk to the Gardens (a place you had never been to) was quick and pleasant, with the suns shining brightly at noon. The knights on patrol greeted you warmly and in a slightly cute and chaotic manner. Stepping outside, you slipped off your new flats, lifted your dress, and ran into the grassy plains with a soft smile and squinted eyes, the sun's rays shining in your eyes and warming your skin. A gentle sigh of contentment escaped your lips as you wiggled your bare feet in the grass of the garden. With a slight breeze in the air, Elmira draped a shawl over your shoulders before heading back to the table to prepare your breakfast.

"Elmira, why is it that I've never been here before?" you inquire, your voice gentle as you lower yourself, your gown spreading over the earth and your hand encircling your knees. The scent of the air is pure and invigorating, a stark contrast to the environment you're used to at home. Your fingers trace the outline of a dandelion-like flower, smoothing over its bright yellow stem before picking it. Raising it to your face, you inspect the pink fluff that surrounds it. The clinking of dishes is the only sound until she interrupts.

"This is the Master's private garden, in order to come here you would need approval. While you were recovering, I told him that you enjoyed being outside and in Nature, and he gave you access to this Garden." Elmira answers, occupied with the dolly that holds the tea and soup that had been prepared prior. As you listen to her words, a soft smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters with excitement. You take in a deep breath and let out a puff, air releasing from your lungs and onto the flower. The pappus soars through the wind, taking flight and drifting further and further away from you. The garden mesmerizes you with its meticulous upkeep, vibrant hues, and the intoxicating fragrance of the dew-kissed plants. Every plant thrives, leaving you thoroughly delighted.

You now longed for a book to read, so you could lose yourself within the garden and experience something you had yet to want until now. But, after realizing that perhaps all the books were in the language of this new world, you would have to ask Elmira or Ulysses to get you something. Ah, you said it so easily, as if staying here was a forever thing, but perhaps it was. Ulysses had hit the nail on the head about your old life - no caring family, a job ready to let you go, and no one waiting for you back home. You weren't living, just surviving miserably. With a soft groan, you rose from your crouched position, hands moving up from your knees as you straightened. Your eyes roamed and landed on a beautiful glass table that Elmira was setting the dishes onto. It was clear, almost see-through. White placeholders were facing the chairs that came with the table. "It's so beautiful here." Your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers glide along the smooth glass surface, the set looking as if water had stilled. It could've been mistaken for ice if the warmth from the present sun didn't beam onto everything in its path. You hesitate, stealing glances at the elegant table, unsure if you should dare to sit. The opulence of the furniture makes you question if you might tarnish it. "Elmira, is it alright for me to sit here? It looks expensive." The cat demon nods absentmindedly, focused on arranging the items. "Certainly, the furniture is meticulously cleaned every day." "Oh," you respond, your brows furrowing. Your gaze swiftly shifts to your hand, a delighted smile spreading across your face as you notice something unexpected. "What is this?" you whisper softly, bringing your hand closer to examine it.

Perched on the back of your hand is a mesmerizing bug, its vibrant blue hue adorned with delicate white spots. At first glance, you might mistake it for a ladybug, if not for its peculiar shading and the menacing stinger at the end of its abdomen. Elmira's expression changes as you inquire about the bug, her face turning pale. With a sense of urgency, she urges you. "My Lady, quickly blow it off your hand!" You look up and away from the bug and glance toward her, panicking slightly at her tone. "What? Why? What's wrong–." Before you can comprehend her warning, a scorching sensation surges through your veins, engulfing your body in unbearable pain. As you glance back at your hand, you discover that the bug's stinger is now embedded in your skin, while the insect itself has vanished amidst your frantic state.

In an instant, you're sprawled on the ground, and Elmira rushes over, tenderly cupping your face in her palms. It's hard not to ponder why a mundane day is an elusive dream in this peculiar world, where nothing ever seems to be ordinary.

"—The Hundyai Region has become overrun with–."

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly turns heavy as a sudden knock reverberates through the door. All eyes turn towards the interruption, their curiosity piqued. It is a rare occurrence to interrupt a meeting with the fearsome Demon Lord Ulysses, it had never been done before, or well, successfully done. Before he can even speak, Elmira enters the room with a sense of urgency, her steps quick and purposeful. Bending down to whisper into his ear, she imparts crucial information to their Lord, causing a ripple of tension to spread across the room. The council members watch intently as Ulysses' eyes narrow and his jaw tightens in response. With a stiff nod, he acknowledges Elmira's message, prompting her to exit the room gracefully. Bidding a respectful farewell to the men at the table, she disappears as silently as she had arrived.

Standing up from his spot at the head of the table, Ulysses straightens his cuff links. "Let's postpone the meeting for now. Feel free to wait in the lounge with some refreshments." There are no protests, no irritation, just unwavering loyalty. "Understood, my Lord." She can't seem to stay out of trouble.

"How long ago was it?"

Elmira anxiously clasps her hands together as she hurries alongside Ulysses, makes his way to his bed in a few long strides."It couldn't have been more than five minutes. I rushed to your side as soon as I could. Ghallahan brought her back here," she explains. Ulysses tenderly cups your chin in his large hand, observing as your eyes glaze over and your lips part to take a deep breath upon his touch. Your skin feels warm and moist with a thin layer of perspiration, causing him to curse himself for his lack of attentiveness. "Bring me something to alleviate the pain and swelling within 10 minutes. Clear out the staff near my room and instead attend to our guests. If I need anything, I'll call for you." Elmira, though reluctant, nods and shuffles out of the room. "What's happening to me?" Ulysses, captivated by the alluring and breathy tone of your voice, shifts his attention back to you. He nonchalantly rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt ever so slightly. "While in the Garden you were stung by a Fern. Their venom can intensify one's libido to a dangerous extent if not treated correctly. It can also lead to swelling in the limbs and even the brain, depending on the specific type of Fern."

In the midst of your poisoned state, your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Your thighs involuntarily clench together as your heart beats erratically in your chest. The overwhelming realization that death may be imminent engulfs you, and you find yourself uttering desperate words, "Oh God, I'm going to die, I don't want to die." However, amidst the chaos, a strange sensation begins to stir within you. Your nipples harden beneath the fabric of your dress, the sensation bordering on painful. Ulysses gently brushes his hand against your, puffy lips sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch trails down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. "For it to stop, I need to pleasure you." Your body tenses at the information and your cheeks flush. "I'll just do it myself. Why can't I do it myself?"

"It doesn't work that way, little dove."

The thought of him touching you so intimately sends tingles of white-hot pleasure down your tummy. Another wave of heat hits and beneath your dress your wet, sticky thighs rub together, desperate for a touch of any kind. You can feel your clit swell and ache as your blood rushes to it. Your panties are damp with your arousal. As you lock eyes with him, his passive yet sharp features, and his deep, alluring red eyes, you sense a hunger that sets him apart from the rest. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple, captivating your attention, and you boldly cup your breast within your small hands, embracing your own provocative nature. It becomes clear that the mere thought of his touch has the power to bring you to the brink of climax.

You can't help but feel a little shy, but there's no denying the effect he has on you. The way his voice rumbles sends shivers down your spine. His deep, sultry tone stirs something deep inside you. "Dove, talk to me." His voice is almost pleading, and you comply with a quick nod, gasping as his lips press against yours, dominating and all-consuming. His tongue dances over your lower lip, relishing the addictive taste of your mouth. His teeth sink in, causing a pleasurable moan to escape into his mouth, your fingers desperately clinging to him; as his fingers trail calmly down your waistline and tickle your belly button. Slowly, they make their way back up to the neckline of your dress, effortlessly tearing it off, and exposing your breasts to the cold air, causing goosebumps to rise. Though his warm mouth chases them away.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, feeling the hot, pulsating bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. The most sultry, erotic moan he's ever heard pierces his ears and the deep, primal groan that he lets out makes you whimper. He lifts his head to gaze into your eyes, seeing the raw desire and intense need reflected at him.

His fingers delve into your hips, reassuring and light as he pulls you closer to him, his mouth continuing a slow, tantalizing assault on your nipples. Each time his teeth nip you, you mewl wantonly and arch into him, hips grinding against him. Tears trickle down your cheeks at the discomfort between your thighs, a fire that slowly starts to eat you alive.

Ulysses' hand caresses your breast, thumb teasing your wet nipple. And you let out the most sinful, obscene moan he's ever heard; and you attempt to stifle it with your hand. " It's only me and you here, dove " He states, kissing down the valley of your breast, eyes flitting upwards to gaze at your tortured face. His breath leaves his lungs in a shocked rush, and a surge of emotions engulfs him when his eyes find yours, they're wet with tears and you down at him through thick lashes, eyes so trusting and yet so scared.

"In this life and the next, you possess the power to consume me entirely." His voice, a mere whisper, and his hands cupping the soft weight of your breast. He bends his head, his teeth scraping over your left nipple. His other arms work on taking off the top half of his clothing, carelessly ripping them away. You sob out, the sound unlike anything he's heard, it makes his cock strain against his pants. Once again, he claims your breast, his mouth unyielding. Suckling vigorously, his tongue dancing across your nipple, while his fingers tease and caress the other. Your cries echo, as you entangle your fingers in his tousled locks.

As he lifts his head from devouring you, his gaze fixates on the vibrant hues that adorn your bosom, and you gasp at the color of his eyes. He knows you see the dark red of his eyes, a lust-filled predator, and yet you don't seem to care one bit. Instead, you yearn for him, your arms entwining around his neck to meet him in a kiss. Ulysses revels in the sensation of your body melding seamlessly with his, surrendering to his dominance as he ravishes your mouth with a fervent hunger, relishing the taste of your fervor. Your mouth, an addictive nectar, surpasses any pleasure he has ever savored in his two millennia of existence.

As your perky nipples graze against the chiseled contours of his muscular chest, a shiver of pleasure courses through your body, leaving you breathless and emitting a delicate whimper. He hungrily devours your sounds, his lips relentlessly claiming yours, until your once tender lips become swollen, evidence of his insatiable desire.

“More," You plead softly. "I need more." You can't help but squirm against him, hips bucking. Hungry. Needy. Demanding. The poison inside you ignites a fiery hunger, and only he can quench it. All you desire is him. His touch, his kiss, rough and demanding. You yearn for the numbness that envelops you when he tilts your head back, dominating your mouth repeatedly. Your cries are filled with urgency, and you don't care if you have to beg him to get what you want. What you needed.

"I can feel the heat of your cunt through my pants, dove," He whispers softly, and to you? He murmurs gently to you. He exudes pure, sinful allure. Temptation. Forbidden and devilish. The brush of his teeth on your neck causes your eyes to close and your lips to part. "I bet your panties are drenched, aren't they?" The question has another wave of slick dripping from your pussy.

He doesn't bother waiting for your response; instead, he plants a series of kisses from your lips to your neck, and then down to your breasts. Every gentle bite or caress sends a surge of heat directly to your pussy. The heat is intense, scorching, pulsating between your thighs, and you can't help but squirm. Your pussy twitches, clenches, and weeps with hunger.

"I want to see for myself," He states, nipping under your breast and then down along your ribs. "I need the taste of you on my tongue, my mate." His sensual words make you flush red, but sends your stomach clenching in anticipation, it goes straight to your core. You weren't certain you could survive. Certainly if he didn't speed up his teasing you wouldn't, you truly didn't want your brain to swell and explode.

His stalling mouth doesn't stay very long but continues to journey down your belly, his tongue dipping into your navel. Gracefully, he slides off the bed and kneels in front of you, urging you to the edge and pushing your thighs apart. "Rest your feet on my shoulders," he commands, his voice thick and velvety. Filled with dark promise. A shiver runs down your spine at the sound and another pulse of hunger shudders through you. There's no thought in your mind that think to defy the edge in his tone. Without hesitation, you comply, soft feet settling over his broad shoulders.

You would do anything for him at this moment. You had never in your 20+ years of living ever felt so desperate or needy. The feeling was so strange but, so intense, your body shook with it. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears and flushing your cheeks. Ulysses' face bore a dark, erotic lewdness. Intense. Savage even. Feral and untamed, it stirred something deep within you, something you didn't even realize was there. You hungered for him so much that you could feel the warm wetness of your arousal smearing your thighs and gathering between your folds in anticipation.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you gripped his locs of hair, your breathing ragged. You were completely bare to him and you should have been embarrassed to have a demon you just met buried between your thighs, but instead, you were all the more desperate for him to do something—anything.

"So wet. So sweet." His gaze fixates on the luscious, soft curls on your mound, damp with heat, his eyes hooded and hungry. With a low, primal growl, he exhales a cool breath directly onto your feverish folds, and you sob, oversensitive and gripping his horns to steady yourself. "You belong to me," he declares. You don't even have time to process his words because he lowers his head to the feast between your shaking thighs. Your cry is hoarse. Broken. Mewling. He doesn't just give a tentative lick. Ulysses takes what he wants like a starved beast. He consumes your mind, body, and soul with a ravenous appetite.

He consumes you. His tongue delving deep to extract the musky, sweet taste of you. He nibbles, sucks. He dominates you with just his mouth and nothing more. Powerless to do anything but hold on, you grasp his horns, his firm hold on your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for his plundering mouth. It was beautiful. So good. Better than anything you could have imagined. Your mind refuses to function, focusing on the sheer pleasure escalating like a tsunami. The sensations are indecent, and arousing, the intensity escalating the insatiable desire within her higher and higher.

He releases a fierce hunger within you, his tongue flicking, diving deep repeatedly, caressing and teasing. His deep snarls only added to the sensations battering through you. The flames roar back with a vengeance, tantalizing your nerves and scorching through your veins, a blaze of passion across your stomach and down your legs, along your spine, and deep inside your sopping pussy. You were so close, the tension coiling so tightly you cry out with need as his mouth envelops your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, he licks just enough to overwhelm you with sensations, but not enough to release you. "Ulysses," You whimper his name in a desperate plea. Begging. Longing. Knowing he would fulfill your desires in his own time. Your body was his. He had claimed it and he was making sure you were aware of that. "Please," You whisper, fingers now clutching his black tresses.

He looks up at you and you feel the added intensity of his twinkling eyes. Your hips involuntarily thrust against him, craving the tantalizing sensations that tease you just beyond your grasp. His mouth covers your sensitive clit once again, his tongue flicking, licking, pressing with broad, flat strokes and caresses, driving you higher than you thought possible, until you scream your release. The rapid, relentless rhythm pushes you beyond your limits, causing you to surrender to the overwhelming release that consumes you. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, you bury his face deeper into your pulsating core, grinding against his tongue as your thighs tremble with desire. "Ulysses." You sob his name like a prayer. He tenderly traces the inside of your thigh, soothing your senses with his gentle touch. Slowly, your eyes flutter shut, your racing heartbeat gradually returning to its steady rhythm. Exhaustion washes over you, and the sweet embrace of sleep claims you.

With a soft knock on the door, the demon eases you back into bed, pulling the duvet over your body. Elmira glides into the room, placing the requested items on the table. "Escort the guest back to the meeting room, we'll resume the conference."

As you wake up from your poisoning-induced slumber, the darkness of night surrounds you, the castle eerily quiet except for the gentle sound of raindrops. Sitting up in bed, you slowly rub the sleep from your eyes, allowing the events of the day to slowly return to your mind. "Oh God." The events from earlier today rush back to you in vivid detail. You cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief. It must have been a dream, an incredibly lifelike, tantalizing dream. But the dampness between your thighs and your labia tells a different story. "I must have been dreaming."

"Of what?" The deep voice that you were starting to get used to startles you. Ulysses closes the door behind him, striding over to his desk. "I came to check on you after what happened earlier," His muscles tense and a surge of desire flickers in his eyes. Oh, and you were naked beneath the sheets. "So, I wasn't dreaming?" Ulysses chuckles humorlessly. "With the taste of your pussy still on my tongue, I don't think so." You try and ignore his lewd words, cheeks heating, instead you question him. "Earlier, when, yeah— you called me your mate, are we talking like, Australian mate? Pirate mate? Ahoy. What did you mean by it?"

"As in soulmate, predestined. You belong to me as I belong to you." His voice is gravelly and tinged with weariness, and you almost invite him into bed with you. "How? And how do you find me? Why me?" "Soulmates for Demons are rare, not many have them and they usually outlive them. Stumbling upon you was a fluke, but one I wouldn't change." Ulysses studies your reaction with a bated breath, searching and wondering. "I discovered you through your heartbeat. Your emotions. I could sense them all. Your fear, your relief, your longing."

"As simple as that, I got attached. Part of me wanted to leave you there, to never lay eyes on you again. However, your emotions anchored me. The solace you found in the echo of my voice and the sense of security you experienced, impelled me to protect you." Ulysses saunters closer, pausing to rest against the bed frame. "Your clumsiness, magnet to trouble, love of nature, and politeness to the staff, only made you more irresistible."

Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, a rhythmic thump that resonates with the intensity of a confession. "Whether you desire to depart from this place is inconsequential, for I have no intentions of releasing you," Is it sinful that you find yourself utterly aroused? The way his smoldering eyes possessively roam over your figure sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. His eyebrow quirks in a provocative gesture, and his eyes sparkle with a magnetic allure.

You felt your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He knew exactly how to turn you on. It was wrong, but it was also thrilling. The way he gazed at you made your pussy drool. Your clit throbbed with excitement. A part of you blamed it on the poison still gliding through your veins. "I don't see a reason to go anywhere," you murmur, relaxing your grip on the sheet. Ulysses' jaw tightens as he advances, his lips crashing onto yours forcefully, swallowing your moan before breaking away.

"I'll put your mouth to use little human."

The thought of his throbbing cock sliding deep into your throat sends delightful shivers down your spine and the way his gaze darkens lets you know that he can also feel what you think as well. With a hint of shyness, you cautiously approach him, allowing the sheet to gracefully slip from your body, settling on your knees right before him. Craning your neck to look up at him, captivated by his towering presence. At his staggering height, you had no problem being face-to-face with his bulge. Your lips form a sultry pout as he gently cradles your face in his hands, while his other two hands firmly grip your hair, a hold that is both biting and intoxicating, leaving your pussy dripping.

A primal hunger consumes you. He was an irresistible temptation, and you had already indulged in a sinful taste of him, otherworldly and enigmatic. You yearned for more. "Put your hands on my thighs," He says softly, his gaze burning into yours. You inhale deeply, your head shaking in disbelief, your eyes sparkling with desire. "I've never done this before."

"I know." Those two words swirl inside you. Makes you shiver. With his remaining hand, he deftly undoes his pants, revealing his cock.

As you inhale deeply, your throat tightens and your eyes feast upon him. His jet-black hair is elegantly swept away from his captivating face. With broad shoulders and narrow hips, he possesses a striking V-shaped silhouette. His thighs are thick, lean and firm, but your gaze is centered on his pulsing, jerking cock. He's bigger than you imagined a man would be— well a demon. He's long and thick, perfectly matching his purple-grey skin tone, but there is an otherworldly quality to it that leaves you craving more. Intricate ridges and pulsating veins adorn its length.

"Keep looking at me, dove. I need to see you, to make certain you want this."

Your gaze swiftly ascended, locked in a passionate connection, for in that very moment, you were ready to surrender the world to him. He envelops his fingers around the base of his cock, guiding it towards your awaiting mouth, an act so tantalizingly arousing, it surpasses any previous encounters. (Not that you've had many, but…) Ulysses presses the velvety head against your lips, and the sensation of his precum moistening them ignites a pulsating surge of pleasure within your core. Driven by instinct, you part your lips and sensually lick the glistening droplets, taking the offering and savoring his taste.

His groan is deep as the flat of your tongue dances over his sensitive tip. He retreats momentarily, causing you to whimper in protest, which is quickly silenced as he abruptly sinks into your mouth, giving you what you want. He moves unhurriedly, each stroke taking him deeper until he's nearly at the back of your throat, careful of you. But you can feel the way his body responds as you suckle hard. It's orgasmic, the violent way his muscles contract from the burning pleasure. His gaze, dark and intense, follows every movement of his cock as it slides in and out of your mouth; tip and shaft sloppy now, dripping with saliva.

You revel in the sensation of his intense gaze watching your pillowy lips enveloping his cock, and this feeling alone from you has his cock swollen and engorged, so much so that your jaw aches. You sensually trace circles around the tip before lavishly slurping the underside of his shaft. Your eyes lock with his as he spasmodically twitches within your mouth.

"Enough." An order, his voice rough. He can't help himself. He had to have you. The plea in your eyes, the pure fire burning there, swallowing him whole, is too difficult to oppose. With one final thrust, he plunges deep into your throat, holding you there until your eyes well up with tears, before sliding his cock from your mouth.

Ulysses follows you down onto the bed, your arms circling his neck. Your thighs part, thighs glistening and pussy glittering in the soft, dull glow of the moons. And oh, he seizes the opportunity, lodging the wide head of his cock into that fiery haven. A growl rumbles low in his chest as your pussy clenches, squeezing around the tip of his cock.

Your cunt felt like molten lava engulfing him, so intense that he feels he might explode. Ulysses slowly applies pressure, short bursts that push through your resistance. It's scorching. So perfect. Too tight. Strangling him in a vice grip. The sensation is sheer bliss, your body stretching and igniting, reluctantly surrendering to his invasion.

Ulysses halts as he knocks dully on your thin, virgin wall and holds himself still, jaw ticking and hands gripping the bed frame, causing it to splinter. To give your body the time it needed to adjust to his incursion. He wasn't nearly in deep enough. The effort to remain still is almost unbearable. "Dove, look at me." he pleads. He had to see your eyes. Your lashes flutter and then lift. His stomach muscles contract malevolently. His body shudders and his cock thickens, and throbs, desperate for more.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

"I need more," You whisper. "Please, hurry. Please. I'm burning up. I need . . ."

"I know what you need." Three of his arms embraces your hips, lifting you effortlessly. In an instant, your legs coil around him, ankles clasping at his waist, and fingers entwining at the back of his neck, eyes pleading. Ulysses takes a deep breath, for the sight of you is overwhelming.

He thrusts forward, with unrelenting intensity. Breaking through your innocence and forcefully entering your tightness, the scalding fire seizing him, and your tight pussy has no choice but to accept all of him.

You cry out at the bite of pain, but he feels you surround his cock tightly, tugging him deeper until he's lodged all the way, kissing your cervix. Your tight muscles contract around him, gripping and pulsating. Your hips buck. A small whimper of need slips from your throat. The need to fuck hard and deep into you repeatedly nearly sends him over the edge. "Are you ready? Breathe for me, dove." Your eyes meet his. Wild. So untamed, his breath catches in his throat. He holds you still while you try your hardest to grind against him, desperate to move.

"Please, fuck me." Your voice sends him over the edge. He moves then, drawing back and then plunging deep into your drooling cunt. Your tightness, like scorching silk, grip his cock. He feels the last of his control snap and he begins to drill into you. It's rough, too rough for your innocence, but he can't help himself. The pleasure consumes him, almost bordering on pain in its intensity.

He can feel you rising toward your orgasm. Surging toward it. He grasps your hips firmly, holding you, for a moment, savoring your tight, dripping cunt, and then he surges into you over and over with hard, deep strokes. Ulysses feels his balls tighten at the sudden, overwhelming convulsion of your pussy. The intense fluttering around him. Your moans fill his ears—his very being. Pleasure overwhelms him.

Each hard jerk of his thick, creamy cum spilling into you is a wave of pleasure. He raises his head and looks down at you, at the helpless, cute, bewildered pleasure on your face. Your lashes flutter and before you can open your eyes all the way, Ulysses slants his mouth across yours. Gently. Completely at odds with his roughness earlier. And you respond softly. Tiredly.

"Sleep, we have all of eternity."

connected with this post!

[strixludica]

The unappreciated art of making mecha look inhuman

Something I noticed lately, by browsing lots of lancer homebrew and fanart and comparing it to the official art, is that a lot of third party artists, across levels of artistic competence, made mechs that looked plain to me for a reason I couldn't pin down. Again, this was only weakly correlated with other metrics for artistic quality, like posing, shading, and linework. After comparing them closely with other art that didn't give me that vibe and art from 1st party material, I realized what gave me that feeling: their mechs looked too human; they looked like they could be convincingly portrayed by a person in a costume.

If you look closely at official Lancer art and the best fanart, you will notice there are always details making sure the subject is unequivocably a giant robot and not a person in sci-fi armor.

One strange but effective way this is achieved is the legs: each manufacturer has one or more distinct style of legs, with the only overlap being between SSC and RKF (which makes sense because SSC has close ties tot he Baronies). Let's go through them and see what about them makes sure you know this is a mech:

Smith-Shimano Corpro + Royal Karrakin Foundries: SSC has three kinds of lower limbs: the Horse Leg, which they share with RKF; the Foot Without Heel, and the Anatomically Correct Human Leg With Toes.

The Horse Leg is not only obviously inhuman, but also obviously unnatural, bacause no biped would be able to move properly standing on horse hooves: it would be like contantly doing a ballerina tip-walk using clown shoes; that is something only a mechanical device assisted by top-of-the-line automatic balancing could achieve.

The Heel-less foot, due to being used almost only for their spider-mechs Death's Head and Swallowtail, has little dehumanization work to do, but it does cover that function when used on the Dusk Wink, which *is* in fact a person in power armour, but still the artist took care of reminding us of how mechanical it is, by giving it feet which have little in common with boots or any other footwear. The Toed Leg seems, at first, to be the opposite of dehumanizing: it looks the most like an actual human bodypart, it feeds into SSCs fetishization of the Human Form (phrasing entirely intended). However, that is also the reason why it very clearly shows the Monarch and Mourning Cloak are robots: because no suit of armor would ever look like a naked leg; this level of anatomical fidelity only makes sense for something mechanical, whose skin *is* armor and as such doesn't need to cover itself.

Horus: Horus is mostly the easy one, with how most of the art gives their mechs beastly paws and hooves, gecko-like foot pads, or long, amphibian fingers whose vague semblance to human hands only contrasts with the blatantly monstous shapes of the Pegasus and Gorgon. However, they have four mechs portaryed with human-like legs.

The Hydra has little need to mask its mechanical nature, but the Lich commits the grave sin of being clothed, one of the biggest risk factor in making mechs look like dudes in armor. To counteract this problem, it's feet have two very evident inhuman characteristics: they have only two long, slender toes, and they touch the ground only with their futhest tarsus, in a way that makes it obvious they aren't bearing any actual weight, as if both Lich and Hydra were alway hovering a couple feet above the ground and used their feet only to skip along it, like a venetian boatman might do with their pole.

The other two exceptions are the Calendula, which being an RKF design has their trademark horse legs, and the Kobold, which already looks inarguably like a robot thanks to the barrel shae of its main body, the Horus-patented Pikey Blobs Aesthetic(tm), but still has feet with actual toes, which achieve the same effect as those from SSC.

GMS: For the longest time, GMS did not have art at all, but let's look at the [G] Type Everest from Op. Solstice Rain:

While the Boot with Auxiliary Side-Toes shape of the foot could potentially belong to a suit of armor, if we look up at the knee it's a different story: look at the slabs on either side of the joint which restrict it to one degree of freedom, as opposed to the frontal protection typical of armor for humans; look at the opposite bends of hip and shin, which almost makes the leg look digitgrade. Inequivocably robotic despite the clearly humanistic design. However, the lower parts of mechs are not the only way their design is dehumanized: we come now to Inter Planetary Shipping - Northstar and Harrison Armory, and in a curious inversion they take the opposite approach.

Although some legs of IPS-N mechs use the above principle (the Blackbeard's angular feet whose toes almost look like retractable claws, Drake's heel-less boots, and Lancaster and Kidd's SPOT-like hooves), a lot of their mecha have quite human-looking armoured boots. HA goes a step further, likely due to a deliberate stylistic choice stemming from the anthrochauvinist ideals: Their mechs look very much like armoured warriors, often even with little skirts like the Iskander or Sherman or reinforced *baltei* like Genghis and Tokugawa. With one important exception: their head.

IPS-N has a very distinctive One-Eyed Cylinder with Another Eye on the Top shape for their mecha, it's probably a deliberate par of their brand; it sees some variation like Drake's looking more liek a helmeted facemask and Stortebecker's tricorn, but even Lancaster and Kidd have a sort of vestigial head on the front with a single eye coming out of a slit.

HA's mecha have greater variation, but nevertheless for all that their body is as human-shaped as possible, their heads are always distinctly not: Barbarossa has a flat prism with a this transparent section on top, looking more like the control tower of an aircraft carrier than a head; Genghis, Tokugawa, and Gilgamesh both have canopies recessed into their bodies; Napoleon also has a barely-extruding canopy with a strange shape and covered in Blinkshield emitters that make it look like a bug-eyed little freak; Sherman is quite literally built around having a cannon for a face; and Sunzi has its drum-looking Blinkspace device. The only HA mech that has a "head" region separate from the rest of the body is Saladin, and even then it's a flat cylinder with a rectangular window in the middle: a design which would never work as a helmet but makes sense as a rotatitng cockpit with a canopy.

The observant among you will have notice that I left out four mechs: Nelson, Vlad, Enkidu, and Iskander. That is admittedly because they are those whose design asserts its inhumanity the least.

Of the first two, despite Nelson committing the sin of clothing, it also compensates hard by leaving a gap in its tabard to show the hatch for the pilot, while Vlad unfortunately does not, and with the weirldy human-looking eye, if there wasn't a pilot for scale one might legitimately not know it's a robot without context.

Iskander is the one mech in the entire Compendium which can be cosplayed without altering its proportion: cyclopism aside, this could be a person in future armor.

Enkidu also has a look which could work just as well for a human-scale cyborg, but given that it's a deliberate statement of intent it gets a pass. At the very least it's elongated head and pad-less feet make it obvious that this is not a person in armor.

Conclusion:

Although I cannot prove it without some double-blind polls, I think one of the secrets to a good mech design is making it look not only obviously like a robot, but also giving it pose, proportions, and details such that it would look big not just on a white background with no context, but that if you tried to shrink it and put it in a scene as though it was more or less the size of a person, people would realize that it's supposed to be larger.

[mymiraclealigner]

Don’t be kind | RemusLupin x fem!reader

summary: Remus has come back to apologize.

tw: smut without much plot (+18), curse words

word count: 2,223

a/n: long time no see :) i have been thinking about remus so much lately... hope you like this and sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.

The rain hit the window desperately. It banged the outside of the big house begging to come in. The weight of the mist creeped into the walls with ease, like a snake crawling through a dense field, almost invisible. The Black House was dark and moist, the majority of its habitants in deep, twitchy slumber.

A girl held herself up on her elbows, semi-asleep still. Some hair stuck to her temple, product of the sweat. The heat under her duvet contrasted uncomfortably with the cold atmosphere. She managed to sit on her bed to recognize the figure standing past her door. A small breeze sneaked through the gap between the creaky floors; a shiver walked across her.

“Remus?” A set of manicured fingers raised to rub her sleepy eyes.

The man remained still. Remus was counting in his head: one, two three, four… Hoping to go unnoticed around twenty. It wasn’t the first night he had entered her room to watch her sleep or something more. But it was the first time he felt embarrassed that he got caught. Twenty came around and she remained focused on the subject in her room.

The silhouette’s shoulders were moving up and down patiently and a few drops fell from his fingers to the floor: he was soaking wet, the rain caught him on the way back to the house. She knew it was Remus and not an illusion. In her dreams, he would have come to her already and he would have been dry, smelling like books and whisky, like he normally did. In her dreams, he loved her unafraid, he was certain of his feelings for her.

“So this is what you do, treat me horribly and come back to watch me sleep and wet my floors?”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you,” he replied with a hoarse voice. “It’s the moon.”

The girl looked down, a silver, thick stripe on the floor marked the distance between the bodies. It was always the moon the one coming between them. Nature’s round princess was an animated object, playing with Remus’ head and emotions. The witch constantly asked herself how something so beautiful could do him so much harm –and to her, consequently.

She removed the comforter from her body, sitting at the edge of the bed. The moon’s pale light bathed her naked legs. She wiggled her toes against the cold wood, getting ready to stand up. Remus’ breathing quickened, her actions meant I forgive you, clearly. He tried to ignore the inevitable worry of when he would no longer be forgiven.

She moved like an angel towards him: messy curls framing her face, tired eyes shaping the world around her. Remus could have kneeled to her feet and kissed them as an act of gratitude. She was merciful like a virgin.

She first pushed the heavy leather jacket off his shoulders. The garment hit the floor with a hard thud, splashing cold water on her feet. His hands were immediately on her hips, his achy knuckles relaxed at the touch of her cotton shirt. She surrounded his neck and came so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. He smelled like pines and smog.

“I’m truly sorry, you’re so important to me,” he whispered against her hairline. His hands trespassed the fabric and caressed her lower back, occasionally playing with the edge of her underwear.

Her hands massaged his nape, helping it get rid of the tension the incoming full moon had induced. She looked up into his tired eyes, the stripe of light reflected in his pupils. He truly couldn’t escape the moon.

“It’s okay, just take what you need,” she responded while pulling his lips closer to hers.

He wanted to correct her, he wasn’t there to take anything –even if it seemed like it–, but it was too late. She immediately kissed him and he forgot about anything that had ever happened in the world before that moment.

The rain suddenly stopped, the clouds took deep a breath.

Like a siren she pushed him slowly into her waters, discarding his clothes on the way. The first buttons of his shirt were undone slowly by her slippery hands; the lethargy of her movements heated Remus’ head. He interrupted the unhurried pace yanking the shirt open, fours buttons flew across the room. Her nails scratched the hair on his torso, fondling the scars with dedication; it made Remus moan.

At the halfway point, Y/n lost her shirt. A soft breeze hardened her nipples, right before the werewolf’s hand grazed them. Her lips, already red and bitten, opened to emit a small groan of satisfaction. She was desperate for him, but so mad at his ways. She brought her bare chest closer to his in a unbridled outburst; fuck you, she thought.

Y/n kept her backward walk until she was stopped by the feel of the mattress hitting her thighs. The girl palmed him over his wet jeans: he was rock hard under the rough material. She guessed he had been hard for a while now by the way his hips stuttered. Remus separated from her kiss to observe her moving hand; in a swift move he removed it holding her by the wrist and trapping her arm behind her back.

“My turn,” he announced lowly against her cheek. He let his words linger in the air; he wanted time to slow her breaths.

With the back of his scarred hand he caressed the curve of her face relaxing the frown that had settled between her brows. His stroke kept going down her neck, the pulse of her veins made his fingers slightly jump. Like on a mountain, his hand raised following the outline of her breast; he pinched the nipple maliciously, stealing a whimper from the girl. His hand slipped down until it sneaked below the only piece of fabric that covered her. Past the mound of hair he wet his digits on her pussy, going up and down, ignoring the crying bead on purpose.

“Pl- please,” she breathed out.

“Uh?”

“I- I said please,” their eyes met. His were determined and playful, hers were pleading.

With a devious smile Remus decided to put her out of her misery and roll measured circles on her clit. Remus knew Y/n was close when the hand held hostage behind her back started to twitch; she also tried to keep her thighs relaxed, but he knew that subtle trembling too well.

The werewolf kissed her neck while diverted his fingers inside of her. First one, then another. He pumped his long fingers into her enough times to open her up, ease his way between her legs. First shallow, then deep. She swore she could feel the protruding scars caress her inner walls.

Once again, in the verge of the orgasm, he let her go. Putting his wet hand on her hip and freeing her arm from his hold. Her hands flew to his belt to unbuckle it. He held her thin hands between his and grabbed his erect member, guiding her through the up-and-down movements. She looked down, embarrassed to be so enraptured in the action.

“Look at me.”

She held her head up, looking shy beyond his shoulder, disobeying his request deliberately. He knew, then: she still resented him. Before he could say anything to defend his case, Y/n turned around and pulled down her underwear. As the small fabric fell to the floor, she straightened up and grabbed the nearest bedpost with her ass perked up.

Remus put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her head to side with his, trying to make space to kiss. She could feel his wet tip hitting against her butt cheeks. His hips were rutting against her while his mouth was devouring her soft neck.

“Are you sure?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps traveled through her sides; she nodded.

“No, use your words. Come on”

The smallest “yes” came out of her lips. Remus knew he wouldn’t get anything clearer nor louder than that. Anchoring on her hips, he pushed her close to him and grabbed his cock to position it on her entrance.

Neither could keep a sigh of pleasure in at the first stretch. Remus thanked the Gods for her existence and her acknowledgment of his; never in his craziest dreams he thought he could be with someone like her. A long list was the one to enumerate all the ways she was perfect, far more noble and good than Remus; her pussy was in the top five.

He bottomed out and stayed still for a minute, letting her accommodate to his size. He inhaled the scent of her loose curls: fig and honey, his favorite. With a tortuous kiss on her cheek he started rocking inside of her. He held her between his hands like the fourth leaf of a clover, raising a hand to fondle her tits.

The witch could feel his love being poured in the swing of his hips. He was truly sorry (–or very drunk–), she knew, because this is what she had always asked of him and rarely received: to be a little vulnerable, to show her something more than a need to release. The way his breathing fell on her jaw, his arms surrounded her torso, his inhibited grunts matched the thumps… it was perfect, just not what she wanted now.

He treated her horribly hours before, denying her help with the upcoming full moon and talking to her like she was an ignorant idiot. He was so confusing: then, he wanted her far from his life, now, he was holding onto her with all the love and need. He was so mindful and delicate, his cock hit her spot over and over again and it felt so nice that she got mad. She wanted him to unload his frustrations on her, not protect her from already inflicted pain.

“Remus,” she used a hand to halt his movements behind her, “don’t be kind.”

Remus, who was drunk in pleasure, let go of wariness and the fear of hurting her and took a firm hold of the woman in front of him. His hips pounded in and out of Y/n taking the air out of her; he looked down and delighted himself with the view of her arched back and plump ass. Quickly, the slapping sound between the flesh was accompanied by a squelching one; Remus rolled his eyes and kissed the back of her head as she got wetter. The girl moaned his name like a prayer and stammered out scoldings and praises in an hushed erotic whisper.

He paused for a second to turn and lay down his witch on the edge of the mattress. He folded over her, keeping a steady, hard pace. His eyes looked for her, he was missing the connection, a glance to say there’s so many things that I feel that I can’t put words to, but she closed her eyes in feigned focus.

“Look at me,” he framed her face with his big hand. She turned a deaf ear and kept panting, concentrating on the pleasurable new angle.

“Come on,” nothing still. “You know, I–,” she squeezed him hard interrupting his sentence; the corners of her lips raised lightly. “I won’t let you come if you don’t look at me.”

Remus decreased his tempo, rolling his hips heavily against hers. Her eyebrows met and he knew he put her in trouble. A senseless murmur spilled from her throat in the sweetest tone, the werewolf almost melted. He rolled his pelvis closer knowing it would graze her clit and she immediately dug her red nails into his biceps; he smiled triumphant. Her moans increased and he watched her struggle to keep the composure, she needed permission to come.

Just like minutes before, her eyes opened painfully slow. This time, she was greeted by Remus’ glowing face, looking at her with serious devotion and the ghost of a grin. Behind him, an almost round, luminous circle peaked behind the window: the moon.

“Hey there–”

“Harder, please, I- I wanna come,” she begged breathless, dazed by his ministrations and the beautiful light behind his strong frame.

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll let you come, sweetheart”

Remus increased the rhythm without taking his gaze off off her. She held his face between her hands and drew him closer to conceal her moans between his lips. Surrounding her legs against his torso Y/n asked if she could come and Remus replied with a simple “Yes, love, I’ve got you”. Immediately after, he came inside her with a groan, hiding his face in the gap between her shoulder and neck, her sweetest spot.

The clouds started weeping again, never covering the silver balloon, the protagonist of the night.

The moon looked at the girl laying sweaty on the bed. On top of her, Remus relished in the sole advantage of his condition: heightened feelings. He caressed her sides, looking to say I’m sorry, once again. She looked back at the moon and brought the werewolf to her lips for another round; tomorrow the man would be the moon’s, but tonight he was all hers.

[fjordfolk]

Utilization: By his anatomical peculiarities this dog is predestinated to puffin-hunting on the steep rocks around the fjords and along the shore.

The standard:

Neck: Clean-cut, of medium length, quite strong with a relatively well furnished collar.

Compendium comment:

The head is carried relatively low. The two last vertebrae (atlas/apsis) are shaped so that the dog can bend backwards so that the head touches the back. To do so is vital when turning in the narrow burrows. NB! This should NEVER be demonstrated the ring!

The standard:

Ears: Triangular ears of medium size, broad at the base, carried erect and very mobile. The cartilage of the ear lobe has the faculty of being able to retract itself so that the ear folds itself and flops in a specific manner, either backwards or in right angle upwards, so as to close the auditory passage.

Compendium addition:

The ears of the Lundehund have a unique muscle that enables them to fold and close the ears when entering the burrows, thus protecting them against dirt and moisture. The turning and folding of the ears probably also is help in locating the birds.

The standard:

Forelimbs: Moderately angulated. Forearm: Straight.

Forefeet: Oval shaped, turning slightly outwards, with at least six toes of which five must rest on the ground. Eight pads on each foot. The two inner toes, formed respectively by 3 and 2 phalanges and endowed with a ligamentary and muscular system, make the foot look solid.

Compendium addition:

Very flexible and elastic shoulder muscles. The Lundehund has joints that allow the forelimbs to extend at nearly 90 degrees from the body, but this must NEVER be demonstrated in the ring! The forefeet turn slightly outwards to give room for the extra toes.

The Norwegian Lundehund is a polydactyl. Instead of the normal 4 digits, the Lundehund normally has 6 digits, all fully formed, jointed and muscled, with tendons going up the inside of the leg, partly responsible for its wide front gait. Some specimen may have more, others less than 6 digits per foot, but less than 6 on front feet should lead to downgrading. The extra toes help the dog climbing up and down crevices in screes and cliffs.

The standard:

Hindfeet : Oval shaped, turned slightly outwards, with at least six toes - four of which must rest on the ground. Seven pads on each foot, the one in the middle, the most important one by its size, being attached to the inner pads corresponding to the two inner toes. When the dog is standing up on a flat surface, the weight of the body must be evenly distributed on the pads.

Compendium comment:

More than 6 digits is not a fault. 5 digits are acceptable on the hind feet. The extra toes on the hind feet are normally less developed than those on the forelegs and variations from the ideal, both regarding number and placement, should not be penalized.

The standard:

Gait/Movement: Light and elastic. An external rotary action of the forelegs and somewhat close action behind is characteristic of the breed.

Compendium comment:

In judging the movements of the Lundehund, one must consider that this dog is built to climb efficiently up and down steep cliffs and screes. The extra pads on both fore- and hind paws must then touch the surface to aid the dog in climbing. The extra toes help getting a grip, both in ascent and descent. The wide front with extra flexibility enables climbing safely up and down crevices, as the forelegs can grip at a 90 degrees angle to the body. On flat surfaces, the Lundehund will show typical rotating front movements, due to tendons and muscles from the extra digits on the inside of the legs. Hind movements are narrow.

[stepbrorafe]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, his gaze harsh as he stares at you. You meet his eyes, your heart racing as you take in his expression. He’s furious.

“Are you serious right now?” He snaps, his body towering over you.

You’ve been misbehaving all day. From making smart comments to doing exactly what he tells you not to. It’s not that you want to defy him, you just want his attention.

He’s been busy for the past couple of weeks, so you’ve not been getting his undivided attention like you usually do. Maybe you’re being a brat, but you can’t help it. Sometimes, you just want him all to yourself.

You don’t say anything, your lips pulling down into a pout. His hand reaches forward, roughly gripping your jaw.

“The fuck are you acting like this for?” He questions, “Tryna cause a scene in front of my friends? S’that it?”

“No.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Then why are you doing this shit?” He grits, jerking your face to keep your attention on him.

His friends stare with wide eyes from behind him, not daring to intervene. They’ve learned the hard way as to not tempt Rafe when he’s in moods like this with you.

“Think you need to be taught a lesson.”

You look up at him with doe eyes, “Rafe-“

He tsks, “Nah, y’know what my name is.”

Your eyes flicker from his to his friends, the two of them quickly averting their attention elsewhere.

“M’sorry dad.” You whine, practically stomping your feet.

“Yeah.. That’s right.” He speaks, his voice sickly sweet. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go upstairs like a good little girl.. And I want you to be naked by the time I get up there. M’gonna fuck you silly, and if you’re good, dad just might let you cum.”

Your thighs clench at his words, your stomach tightening at the thought. You feel your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, knowing you’re in for it.

“Fuck are you waiting for?” He’s raises his eyebrows, “Go.”

The second his hand releases your face, you’re quickly sprinting up the stairs to your shared bedroom. His sarcastic chuckle rings through your ears as he turns to kick his friends out.

As soon as you enter the bedroom, you’re fumbling to get your clothes off in a timely fashion. You know he’s pissed, you don’t want to make it worse by not being ready for him like he said.

The second you’re fully nude, you sit at the end of the bed and place your hands on your legs. It feels like forever has passed as you wait for him, though it’s only been a minute or so. Soon enough, he saunters in the room with a devious look in his eyes.

He shuts the bedroom door without a word, turning to observe you as you quietly stare up at him. Slowly stepping forward, he pulls his shirt over his head. Your eyes rake over his torso, admiring every dip and curve of his muscles. He’s so toned and fit, mouthwatering.

His hands fall down to his belt, unbuckling the leather, and swiftly removing it. Next, he takes off his pants and boxers, leaving him bare just like you. His erection stands tall, eager to feel you around him. He stalks forward, almost like a predator after its prey, and stands right in front of you.

He pushes you onto your back and lifts your legs, planting your feet on the bed with your thighs spread, showcasing your sweet center. You lift up onto your elbows to watch his every move.

His eyes take you in from head to toe, memorizing every detail of your body, seemingly etching it into his brain. Seeing you all submissive for him makes it all the more better. He loves when you’re completely and utterly his.

Soaking in every inch of you, he wraps his hand around his shaft, slowly pumping up and down. Your eyes widen at his movement, your entrance subconsciously clenching around nothing. He notices, a small smirk pulling to his lips as he watches your arousal ooze from you.

Your eyes bore into him as he continues to stroke himself, your desire for him burning hotter inside of you. You can’t help yourself, and bring your hand to your pussy, running your fingers along your wet folds.

“Aht aht.” He smacks your hand away, leaving you whining for stimulation. “Watch.”

Your lips form a pout at his demand, but you comply because you want to be a good girl for him. As much as it almost hurts not to be touched, you listen. You know you’ll be rewarded for being obedient, and what you’ll get in return will be worth the torture now.

He brings his hand up to your face, shoving two fingers into your mouth. You instantly swirl your tongue around them, sucking his digits just how he likes. After a minute, he pulls them out and wraps them back around his member, sighing from the feeling of your warm saliva enveloping him.

His muscles flex as he continues to jerk his cock, dribbles of precum forming at his tip. Your core aches at the sight, desperate for him to fill you up. You can orgasm just from the visual he’s giving you.

As he strokes himself, his free hand meets your thigh, rubbing all over with a strong pressure. Your breath picks up as he gets closer and closer to where you need him, yet he never gives you the satisfaction you so desperately want.

“Look at you.” He coos, “So wet already.. Haven’t even done anything.”

You whimper when his fingers dance outside your folds, purposely ignoring your throbbing heat. After another moment of teasing you, his thumb trails through your lips from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a low moan from your mouth.

As his thumb presses your clit down, he positions his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes in, rubbing slow circles on your bundle of nerves. You gasp at the feeling of him filling you out, your walls stretching to make room for him.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, practically shuddering as he bottoms out.

Stilling for just a moment, he pulls back until just his tip remains, then pushes back in with great force. A loud moan emits from your throat from the sudden change in pace.

His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulders as he thrusts in and out of you. His strokes are deep and hard, almost stealing your breath every time he digs into your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open with a repetitive ‘ah, ah’ sound coming from it. The headboard slams into the wall, over and over again. His fingertips dig into your thighs, keeping your legs open for him.

“This s’what you wanted, no?” He questions, “Acting up just so I’d fuck you.”

You don’t respond, the only thing you’re able to spit out being lewd moans as he pounds into you.

“Yea..” He hums, nodding to himself. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna get fucked.”

After saying that, he pushes your legs forward against your chest. His thrusts pick up, turning your mind into mush as he digs you out. His eyes move back and forth from your fucked out expression to the way your pussy squeezes him, his eyes damn near rolling back from both sights.

He leans over you, shoving his cock as deep as it would go, his hips slamming into the back of your thighs as he does so. The heavenly sound of both of your moans and your bodies smacking together fills the room, and its music to Rafe’s ears.

“Oh m-my god.” You cry out as you feel the knot in your stomach twisting tightly.

He grins down at you as you writhe beneath him while he continuously abuses your cervix. Your brows furrow as your face scrunches in pleasure, your body ablaze with pure bliss.

Rafe uses one hand to hold your legs in place, his other hand going down to your center. Wetting his fingers with your slick, he rubs your clit in fast circles, causing your body to tremble.

You don’t even have time to warn him before the band in your stomach snaps, your juices pouring out of you as you convulse beneath him. He groans at the sight of you coming undone and the feeling of your squeezing him so tight.

With a few more harsh thrusts, he’s balls deep in you, his dick twitching as he paints your walls with a milky white. He gives you another few pumps, emptying his entire load as you pulsate around him.

He lets your legs go and falls forward, holding most of his weight on his elbows beside your head. The two of you are breathless as you stare at one another.

“All you gotta do is ask, baby.” He grins, passionately kissing you. “You know dad’ll give it to you.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm thinking of Merman!Gaz smut tonight, so... have a little drabble:

Breeding? || Merman!Gaz (for Mermay 2024)

cw: smut (cunnilingus), dubcon elements (reader is willing).

Merman!Gaz who's actually part sea horse so he has a dorsal fin, ears that are fin-shaped, and no caudal fin, but a straight, thin and curled tail instead.

Merman!Gaz who loves people watching and has learned plenty about humans... and even does it enough to have picked up on some Englsh.

Merman!Gaz who sees you at the beach, not one of those fine sand and great for sunbathing ones, but one that's mostly rocky gravel and a jagged coastal line.

Merman!Gaz who approaches the rocks you're sitting on and peaks his head over them to catch your eye, happy that the beach is mostly devoid of people due to how gloomy and cloudy the sky is.

Merman!Gaz who startles you and smiles when he notices you jumping, but then your eyes shine like the stars and you look at him with such curiosity as you carefully approach with a "Hi...?".

Merman!Gaz who's, unfortunately, more curious about the parts of your body hidden under your shorts than you as a human, and whose human-like hands start pawing at your thighs, webbed fingers massaging your exposed skin.

Merman!Gaz who wraps his muscular arms around your hip and drags you as close as he can get you to the edge of the rocks, your toes dangling over the water, and legs being sprinkled by the crashing waves.

Merman!Gaz who presses his face against your clothed cunt, burying his nose against the gusset of your denim shorts, taking a deep sniff of you thanks to his powerful nose, that sends excitement coursing through his body, and heat rising up to his face.

Merman!Gaz who realizes how beautiful you look with your eyes wide and your whole body stiffened in surprise... but notes how your hands don't push to fight him off.

Merman!Gaz who tries to rip your clothes off you, not knowing what "Careful!" means when you say it, which makes him look at you with knitted brows and the biggest, softest brown eyes, only for you to relent and help him.

Merman!Gaz who, as soon as he sets eyes on your exposed cunt, feels his heart racing in his chest and immediately buries his face back where it belongs.

Merman!Gaz who licks stripes up your cunt, savouring the taste and the warmth of your core, the wetness so different to the salty ocean, and revels on how your moans sound even more lovely than some of the mating songs he hears from whales and other mammals.

Merman!Gaz whose fins start brightening in color, turning bright orange rather than its muted shade of terracotta, and whose tail wraps around one of your feet, as he sucks on your clit and hears you mewl and moan.

Merman!Gaz who smiles when he feels a rush of liquid rush against his plump lips and down his chin, watching how you go limp and sigh fondly, having peaked against his mouth... and clicks his tongue and smacks his lips, pleased with himself.

Merman!Gaz who continues at it over and over, his tongue diving into your winking hole, and feels your heels dig into the expanse of his back as his arms keep holding his torso above the water so he can remain buried in your cunt.

Merman!Gaz who after you're overstimulated, uses his strong arms to pull himself up onto the rocks atop you and whose lips crash onto yours in a deep, languid kiss, like he's seen so many humans share, noticing your eyes rolling and the fucked out look on your face.

Merman!Gaz who vanishes under the water while you're struggling to catch your breath, catching the way as you jump up, startled, when you noticed he's gone, seemingly distraught that he'd just leave like that.

Merman!Gaz who, weeks later, is lowkey confused as to why his brood pouch didn't swell and he's not releasing any babies, he's pretty sure you two mated?

Part 2:

[hederasgarden]

The Price of Survival (2)

Summary: Rescued by a stranger from a dangerous situation, you quickly find yourself thrust into an even more perilous one, forced to depend on him for protection in a world where survival means trusting no one. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 2.4K Rating: 18+ only, mature themes. Modern zombie AU, references to attempted SA, overall dark/gritty themes. Not all themes will be tagged. A/N: Thank you to @ryebecca and @aninnai for looking this over! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Gladiator Masterlist

You follow behind Lucius, tethered to him by the short length of rope he holds. His steps are steady, his pace unhurried despite the darkness, but you can’t help checking over your shoulder. There hasn’t been a hint of the undead for hours, and the silence only makes you more uneasy.  

As you turn to glance behind you once more, your toe catches on a rock, and you stumble. But Lucius is quick, his hand steadying you before you can fall. It happens again moments later, and without a word, he closes the distance, slipping his hand between your arm and side to pull you closer. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, your fear coiling tighter with every step.

Now that the rush of adrenaline and fear has settled into a steady pulse of terror, the sting in your wrists grows unbearable. The skin is tight, itching as the blood dries. Your shoulders ache from the strain of your bound arms while your side throbs, bruised from your fall. Your feet feel almost numb from the cold water.

A hundred questions press against your tongue, but Lucius hasn’t spoken a word since he tied you up so you swallow them all. You know where he’s taking you, back to the settlement the other men mentioned. It’s not hard to guess what’s waiting ahead, and the thought makes your stomach twist. You think about running again even though you know it’s futile. Lucius has shown you what he’s capable of. 

You’re tired, your legs unsteady as you force yourself to keep moving. After a minute or two, the dense forest begins to thin, and the darkness lifts slightly to reveal a clearing ahead. A massive wooden wall looms in front of you, so high that you have to tilt your head back to see the top. Lucius steps forward, his voice cutting through the still air as he calls out to someone on the wall. A figure appears on top, a man with an arrow notched in his bow. He stares down at you, surprised by your presence. 

“That’s a strange looking deer,” he calls down, watching you with a curious, open smile. 

Lucius exhales sharply, irritation creeping into his tone. “Viggo and the others are bringing the game back. Open the gate.”

The man shakes his head, muttering something you can’t hear and then calls over his shoulder for the gate to be opened. You glance nervously behind you, the words Lucius and the man trade feeling painfully loud. Lucius seems to sense your unease, glancing back into the dark woods.

“There are no undead near the settlement,” he says. “We cull them when they get too close to make sure their numbers don’t grow too great.”

An opening appears in the wall, a door so small that you and Lucius must duck to pass through it. You can’t help but wonder how much longer the safety of this settlement will last or how long the culling will keep the dead at bay. There were rumors of places like this, outposts that managed to carve out some semblance of peace. But every one your group found had been abandoned, overrun by the undead, or collapsed under the weight of its own people.

As you enter, the man from the wall slides down a thick length of rope, his movements swift and practiced. He’s dressed in worn fatigues and lands with a muted thud. His eyes scan you briefly before settling on Lucius.

“Macrinus will want to see her. He’s in the canteen.” 

Lucius nods sharply and roughly jerks you forward. 

Torches line the path, their flickering flames casting a soft glow that illuminates the way ahead. You pass a dozen small cabins, each spaced evenly apart. There’s no sign of life as Lucius leads you forward, the stillness around you thick and unsettling. It’s only when you reach a large wooden lodge, standing apart from the row of smaller cabins on the other side, that Lucius finally slows. To your shock, artificial light spills out through the wide windows that line the front of the building. The sight is jarring, electricity was something you never thought you'd see again.

The porch creaks under your combined weight when you both climb the steps. Lucius pushes open a heavy set of double doors, and you’re hit with a rush of warm air and the rich scent of food. Your stomach growls painfully and your mouth salivates in response. The three long tables that dominate the center of the room are full of men, women, and a few small children. The murmur of their voices rises and falls in conversation, punctuated by the quiet clink of cutlery. No one notices you enter but as Lucius takes you deeper into the room, the chatter slowly begins to cease. 

It doesn’t escape your notice that there are nearly twice as many men as women here. The few women present watch you carefully, their expressions hard to define. You catch the eye of a woman seated near you. She rubs her swollen belly and exchanges a look with the woman beside her who subtly shakes her head, some silent warning passing between them.

Lucius comes to a stop before a small table set off to the side, where an older, strikingly beautiful blonde woman sits beside a bald man. She watches Lucius intently, the only sign of any emotion you see is the subtle tightening of her jaw. The man beside her seems oblivious to your presence, casually rifling through a bowl of fruit, his fingers moving leisurely from one piece to the next. Though there’s nothing overtly threatening about him, your heartbeat picks up when he looks at you. 

“Lucius, my boy,” he greets, leaning back and spreading his arms wide. “You’ve brought us a new guest.”

The man beside you nods, his tone neutral. “Macrinus.”

Macrinus chuckles, unbothered by the cool greeting he receives. He rounds the table and approaches you. “Come now, is the rope really necessary?” he asks, glancing at Lucius.

Lucius unties your arms, and the older man steps closer, his smile widening as he studies you with a calculating, almost predatory interest. It’s not the crude desire you felt from those men in the woods, no, it’s something far worse. It makes you feel small and insignificant, like an insect under a microscope. You rub your aching forearms, forcing yourself not to retreat. With Lucius standing so close, his shoulder brushing yours with every breath, you feel hemmed in.

“It’s been a while since we’ve found any survivors,” Macrinus says before introducing himself and the woman beside him as his wife, Lucilla. “You must be hungry,” he continues. “Come, let's feed you, and then perhaps we can get you some clean clothes. We have hot water for a shower, too.”

There’s something unsettling about the warm, friendly demeanor of the man in front of you. The veneer of his kindness feels thin in light of Lucius’s tense silence and the behavior of the women. There’s a trap here but you’re uncertain of what will spring it. 

"Am I...a prisoner?" you ask hesitantly.

Macrinus laughs, shaking his head. “Heavens no, but we must be careful about who we take into our settlement." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as if he's sharing a secret just for you. "Lucius is just the cautious sort," he adds.

Cautious. You think about the way Lucius killed those men in the woods to protect you, his brutal efficiency. You stare back at Macrinus, unsure what to say. He sighs and leans back on the table, crossing one foot over the other.

“You are free to leave if you wish but I hope you’ll hear me out. If you’re not satisfied you can go,” he promised solemnly. 

“Please, sit with us,” Lucilla says with a gracious smile. “If Lucius brought you to us, you must be special.”

“Very special,” Macrinus echos. 

You glance at Lucius but find him staring straight ahead. For a brief moment, his gaze sweeps to Lucilla before quickly shifting away. 

“Some food for our guest please,” Macrinus commands.

He snaps his fingers at a young man sitting nearby who springs into action. Lucius pulls out a wooden chair, his touch gentle as he guides you to sit. When he takes the seat beside you, Macrinus spares him a brief, displeased look. 

“We’ve set a place for you with your men. You should join them.”

“I’ll eat here, with my mother,” Lucius responds. 

You take in the newly revealed information with a surprised blink, looking between both pairs of blue eyes, their expressions carefully neutral, unreadable. Lucius takes a steaming bowl of soup from the young boy and places it in front of you, accompanied by a small piece of bread. You hesitate for a moment, fingers hovering over the food. The bread is soft, its yeasty scent warm and inviting, a comfort you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

Your stomach growls, reminding you just how hungry you are, though a sharp edge of nausea lingers. You take a bite, savoring the warmth that spreads through your belly. The stew is rich, hearty, and full of flavor. It’s been so long since you’ve had something like this, something that feels real and sustaining. It tastes like before. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink rapidly, willing them back.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through out there,” Macrinus says, shaking his head. “The hardships you must have endured. It’s a miracle you found us.”

He pats the back of your hand, but this time you can't help the involuntary flinch that passes through your body. Too many hands have touched you tonight, unfamiliar and heavy with intent. The thought of another hand on you churns your stomach.

“Our rules here are simple. Everyone contributes to keeping the settlement running. If you stay, we’ll find you a suitable job based on your skill set,” he continues, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “We work hard here and in return you’ll never go hungry or cold.”

As you and Lucius eat, Macrinus explains the rules, most of them simple and easy to follow. By the time he finishes, your spoon scrapes against the bottom of the bowl, the last of the soup gone. You feel uncomfortably full, a heaviness settling in your stomach.

“There is one last rule.” He pauses, leaning closer and Lucius stiffens beside you. “We don’t allow unattached women in the settlement.”

Your brow furrows. You look from him to Lucius and his mother but their expressions offer no clarity. 

“I-I don’t understand.”

“It’s not anything personal,” he says. “It’s for the safety of the settlement. Women, unattached women…well, things can get complicated. Tensions can rise. Things...happen.”

Macrinus leans back, casually draping an arm over the back of Lucilla’s chair. His hand brushes lightly over her shoulder, a gesture that might have seemed comforting if not for the sharp, unsteady breath she takes in response. A faint shudder ripples through her, as if his touch stirs something deep within, something unsettling. She clears her throat and beside you Lucius’s fingers tighten around his spoon, his knuckles turning white.

“There were incidents when Macrinus first founded the settlement. Violence, discord. It almost didn’t survive.” She pauses, her eyes flicking briefly to her son, then back to you. “The rule was put in place after that, to keep things...stable.”

The spoon in your hand slips from your fingers, clattering against the bottom of your empty bowl. For a moment, you feel numb, frozen in place as the weight of their words sinks in. Unattached. The word echoes in your mind, a cold realization dawning. You remember the cryptic conversation between Lucius and Viggo earlier, the undercurrent of something unspoken that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“If you decide to stay, you’ll be given time to decide the right match for yourself,” Macrinus assures you. “And if, at the end of that time, you don’t feel this works for you, you’re welcome to leave.”

You swallow hard, struggling to keep the rising tide of horror from breaking free. Now that the truth is finally clear, you understand exactly what it was Lucius had tried to warn you about.

Macrinus stands smoothly, his voice rising above the conversation of the room. “Everyone in this settlement is here because they chose to be.” You don’t need to turn around to know every eye in the room is fixed on your table, waiting for your reaction. “Plenty of others have taken their chances outside. The choice is yours.”

What kind of choice was that? You want to ask, but the words die in your throat. Outside these walls, there’s nothing left but death and suffering. You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but the grief you haven’t even had time to process crashes over you like a wave. The handful of people you could rely on in this shattered world are gone, taken from you only hours ago. You are utterly alone now. The only thing you know for sure is that it’s not freedom that Macrinus offers.

You don’t even realize you’re standing until the sharp clatter of your upturned chair jolts you back to reality. Your progress is abruptly halted by Lucius, his hand closing around your wrist. His touch burns and a soft, pained sound escapes your lips. When you look up at him, you see that his gaze is fixed, not on you, but on his mother. 

“It’s a lot to take in,” Lucilla murmurs softly, her voice sweet as she rises from her chair. She brushes her hand lightly over Macrinus' arm and watches him through her lashes. “Let me help her get settled for the night.”

Macrinus stares at her for a moment before he gives a small nod. Lucius releases your wrist as his mother rounds the table.

“Come,” she encourages you, offering you her hand. When you hesitate, her expression grows more brittle. “Please.”

After a brief moment, you place your hand in hers, allowing yourself to be gently pulled to her side. She leads you back the way you came, her steps slow and deliberate, guiding you past the row of tables and the silent onlookers.  As Lucilla ushers you into the cool night, the door closing softly behind you, you catch one last glimpse of Lucius. He stands motionless, his hands hanging loosely while his eyes burn bright with a storm of emotions you can’t decipher.  

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Fam: Pool Days

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: baby Ellie remembers how to swim.

- - - -

Ellie knows how to swim. She went to all the infant swim lessons and survival trainings just like Sarah did. You have no fear of Ellie's swimming capabilities.

But at some point over the winter, she forgot she knew, and developed a fear of water. The four of you took a trip to the local pool, where Sarah and Joel jumped right in. Even as Sarah was determined to take Joel down with all her might (to absolutely no sucess) Joel still had his arms stretched out ready to catch Ellie to jump in.

Ellie--bless her bitty chubby soul-- had no interest to jump in. She was almost two at this point. Bucket hat and fat floaties on her shoulders, she twirled her fingers anxiously, looking away from daddy with drawn browns.

"Its okay, baby, daddy is gonna catch you!" He encourages, curling his hands towards himself in come hither motion "You don't even have to swim!"

But she shakes her head, running back to you and clutching your legs for dear life.

"That's okay Ellie. We don't have to swim today. Do you wanna sit with me?"

She nods, her head buried between your knees.

So you and Ellie sat on the hot concrete and watches curiously ad ants lined up, grabbed crumbs of discarded food, and filed away to their cracks in the sidewalk. She pointed to them curiously, only occasionally glancing at the pool before shifting away and dedicating all her focus on the very dry ground.

The next day, you sat on the shallow edge of the stairs into the pool. It took some coaxing, but Ellie sat on the dry edge, and only managed to dip her large toes in at a time. Sarah continued to climb atop Joel like a tree, grunting and trying to pull his chest down knock him under water, but he just kept grabbing her and yeeting her 6 feet in the air to splash back into the pool.

Next day, Ellie's ankles kicked in the water, but she was still too afriad to get in any further.

"I dont get it. She knows how to swim," Joel complained. His biggest gripe is why he has to bring all these floaties day after day if neither Sarah nor Ellie were using them. He was also feeling a big dejected. You could tell he wanted Ellie to trust him with this. He was a great dad.

"Its a mental thing..." it really was. You didnt have any other explanation for it. You weren't gonna traumatize her by pushing her in and forcing her to fight or flight.

The four of you got close to the edge. Ellie saw the water and immediately retreated back towards the furthest fence, more content with swimming in the artificial grass.

"I figured she'd want to get in with me," he pouts. Joel saw it all going differently. That Ellie would feel more comfortable being around Joel, even if he carried her all day in the water. He'd swear never to let a drop get on her. But not even her favorite man was enough to sway her.

Joel miller is a great father. A great husband.

You....

You glances at Joel, who's walking closer to the edge of the pool than you.

The thought breezes through your mind, and you come to the conclusion that you are not as great a wife.

using all your strength, you shove him off balance and send him flying into the pool without warning.

He has no chance to get his anchor as he goes crashing into the water, elbow and head first.

On cue, Ellie screams and immediately forced her fat legs to run as fast as they can, straight to the water. Eithout a seconds hesitation that she's had all week, she launches herself at full speed, scrunches her legs in the air and cannon balls into the pool butt first.

You must be a really bad mom too because You didn't expect her to just jump in by herself!!!

But to your immediately relief, she bobs her head up and starts frantically kicking and paddling doggy style to reach Joel.

Joel resurfaces, standing tall as the water was only deep to his waist, and shakes his head annoyingly. He frowns at you before realizing there's a very fast moving worm coming towards him-

"daDDY!" She shouts concerningly. Even though everyone else can clearly tell Joel is in no harm whatsoever, she still pants hard as she pettles her way to him like his life depends on it.

Joel blinks away the chlorine in his eyes, in disbelief at her sudden determination. "ELLIE! You did it!"

He reaches out and grasps her into his arms.

"I save DADDY!" She exclaims.

"Ahh.. I mean you didn't really..."

He glances up at you with eyes that signal to him to shut the fuck up.

"you DID! You saved me from drowning."

"All by myself!" She coos excitedly. "Daddy I swim!"

After that Ellie was completely comfortable in the pool, with Joel remaining a 4 foot radius at all times (knowing he could drown at any moment again).

"I wanna push him in next!" Sarah protested.

Ellie screeches "NO!" And defensively clutched Joel's whole head as she sat atop his shoulders.

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[tlouwhore]

modern!ellie headcanons

notes/warnings: pet names used (baby), sfw, loser!ellie a little (i cant help it), no race specific information, androgynous reader

★ she has an insane mug collection thats so strange, when you go to hers for the first time its such a weird thing

"you want something to drink?"

"sure"

and you'll go back to messing with her stuff that she left sprawled across her coffee table until you hear her clomp over and extend her arm, she'll be holding an inconveniently built mug out to you casually

"els, what the fuck is that?"

she tilts her head and furrows her brow, confused at your comment as if its unreasonable to ask why shes handing you a horrifically constructed alien mug thats bound to spill all over you

★ speaking of these mugs, she refuses to get rid of *any* of them. when you guys move in together you're begging her to just get rid of one but she refuses

"els, please. we dont have enough shelves for these, we need normal drinking glasses."

you sigh as the mugs sit across the kitchen counter, shes on one side staring at them while youre on the other side staring at her.

"i cant, i use them all"

she doesn't. she drinks out of one and she only ever drinks water from it. you go back and forth for merely minutes before you throw in the towel and just let her do her thing, if shes happy you dgaf about the normal water glasses.

★ shes a loud ass walker, you will hear her before you see her. you genuinely start to think she's doing it on purpose.

★ she has one belt and its one wrong move from completing snapping in two pieces, there is a literal half inch of material holding it together

★ needs to pet street cats every time she sees them, whenever you point out that they're probably diseased she scoffs

★ tries to pretend shes good at fixing things but has no clue what shes doing—the toilet isnt flushing properly and so she stands about 3 feet from it and stares at it with her weight shifted to one side. she'll have on a tank top on and slacked down carhartt pants engulfing her legs as she nods. she really likes to take care of you so she'll refuse to admit she has no idea what shes doing and when you walk away she looks up "toilet not flushing reddit"

★ she fucks with the twilight franchise but pretends to hate it because it doesn't "look cool"

★ she cant drive, she failed her permit test 3 times and pretends like every other driver on the road is the problem (shes the issue every time)

★ she drives a beat up car or truck, it smells a little funny and the radio gets three stations so you have to rummage through her mass cd collection to find something to listen to. half the cds wont even be in their case but instead haphazardly chucked around her car in random spots. the only ones she keeps in order are your cds, which have a specific bag so you don't have to scurry about in her car to find them.

★ 3 pairs of socks and they all have holes in them, she'll complain that the floor is cold all the time

"god the floor is so cold in here"

"can you just put some socks on?"

"i'm wearing socks right now"

"oh really?"

and she'll point as her feet, half her toes are out and her heel is fully exposed. its about the same as just wearing no socks at some point. you'll just stare in disbelief for a moment before scoffing.

"what'd you do that for?"

that small crease between her brows finding its way to her face as it always does.

"you're barely wearing socks"

"oh whatever"

★ has to physically restrain herself from telling you the gift she bought you for any holiday or event, shes tweaking out and cant function until she gives it to you

★ she loves to just be in your presence, she'll observe your routines. she enjoys perching next to you as you get ready, no matter how short or long or a routine she will be by your side

★ she can cook a crazy burger but that's literally all she can make

★ shes a blushing mess for you but she loves to get cocky and pretend she isn't when texting you

★ needy and will message you thirst trap ass photos in an attempt to get you to leave work early and be with her (it works)