#not that it really helped me get unstuck from where I was

[riansdiary]

NO MORE WAITING, IT'S HERE VAUNT

Hello Dearest Gentle Readers 💎

I am bringing something new to you today. I was watching a law of assumption podcast when I realized something important.

I have been letting the 3d trigger me sometimes. I realized that I'm the one doing that to myself because I have been focusing too much on the things that I don't want and letting it make me feel bad. Sometimes, I end up doing that but did I give up? NO.

I decided to stop paying attention to the things I don't want in my reality and focus more on good things and my manifestations. I can't believe I let the 3d affect me so I came up with something to help me reframe my mind back to me having it already. After that, I decided to just naturally say it. Affirmations that came naturally from me not from the state of lack but from the state of already having it.

I want you to read this or make something up if you want that's personal to you every time you almost check or get triggered by the 3d and it's making you feel bad. You have the power and the decision to stop that. So say this with me now.

"I am not waiting, I'm having it now. I already have it now. It's already here. All my desires are already manifested and it already materialized in the 3d so I have nothing to worry about anymore. It is done. Creation is finished. It's just a glitch. The 3d has no power over me. I fully believe and assume that I already have everything that I want. I am confirming that as the truth in my reality now. It's here now. In fact I don't desire them anymore because I already have them. I don't care, I already have it. It's here. Everything always goes my way. No more waiting because why would I have to wait for my desires when they're already mine and they're already here. I have all of my desires now. It's already here and it is done. I am so relieved that I have it all now."

Just take a deep breath and say this calmly in a natural way that you would talk in your mind. All you're doing is reminding yourself that you're not waiting, all your desires are already yours. You sometimes need to do this for yourself to unstuck you from the waiting state you might be in and take you back to your new story. Simple reminders like these can really help you a lot. You could just do these and you're set. Feeling like waiting? Well stop waiting and take this shortcut to having. Believe that it's really all there but do not check. Why would you need to do so when you are in full control and you're just commanding your reality and confirming it in your brain even if you don't see it yet that it's already here. It is a way to bypass and reframe your mind to the version of you who already has it.

You don't have to follow this exactly or memorize it unless you want to. Make it natural and personal to you. Stop yourself from going back to the old story and change the story to the way you want it to be. You are the storyteller and the writer. I just wanted to share this vaunt that helped me earlier. You can also say something like the 3d has no power over you. Anyway, I really hope this will help bring you back to the new story and already having your desires where you should be. Know it's done and don't let the old surroundings bother you and change your mind. Don't pay any attention to it because what you focus on grows. You got this. You already do. Use this to accept and believe that you have it now. I fully accept and believe that I have all my desires.

LEAD THE SHEEP BACK TO THE PEN, if you know what I mean.

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[allisonreader]

💬

Okay, so a little bit of backstory leading into this. This is part of a piece I wrote for Lost in the Past; which was previously the AU I was calling Tales Of A Frozen Sailor: Jessica's Rescue. I was having trouble writing the main part of the story, so I went to get a different POV of what happened at a different time. I just recently reread it and realized how happy I was with it. It’s a bit long, but hopefully worth it.

🌸🌺🌹

She had to admit to herself that she was feeling old and like she wasn’t going to spring back from this loss well.

If only George were still around for her to lean on.

She found herself wandering over to her dresser vanity mirror. She had it covered with pictures of her family throughout the years. There were pictures of her, Emery and George sitting on the back steps of the house, Emery couldn’t be more than seven in it. A time when he still let others call him Emery instead of Erik, his middle name. She had a picture of Edward and Emery together at Emery's high school graduation. Edward looking so proud of his son.

There were older pictures too. Like the first time she and George got to hold their grandchildren. She had pictures of Edward growing up and baby pictures of him.

She even had a black and white picture of her wedding day to George. And right behind that wedding picture was an old envelope. One that had been given to her on said wedding day.

She had forgotten all about it when Emery had gone missing.

Tears filled her eyes as she took the envelope back to her bed. "Not To Be Opened Until After April 15 2011" It had always struck her as an odd thing that George's family friend had given them such a mysterious; what she assumed, was a letter. But neither she nor George had opened it. After George had passed, Emery decided that he would read it with her when the time had come. Which would have happened after he had gotten back from his trip on the ship.

How odd it was- that it was labeled to be read for the day they learned that Emery had gone missing, presumably by going overboard. She carefully opened the letter to read it. It went…

Dear Margaret,

Thank you for waiting for so long to read this letter. And if you’ve tried peeking, I’m afraid most of this letter won’t make much sense, not until after the read after date anyways.

Once that date has passed, this letter just might solve a mystery about what happened to your grandson.

An odd thing for a letter given to you on your wedding day to mention. As you do not even have a child yet. But you will, a son who will be middle aged if you’ve waited to read this.

Nanna, I am your grandson Emery Erik Piston. By the time you read this, I’ll have been gone for however many years. But let me start from the beginning.

It’s funny to think about how we had been talking about reading this letter together after I went to that wedding, while I’m the one who has written it.

Nanna, at the reception of that wedding, I went out onto the deck for fresh air and fell overboard somehow. The next thing I knew I was in cold water and trying not to breathe. After floundering to the surface, I found myself in a corridor of what I soon found out was the Titanic.

I was able to rescue Jessica Hudson from the room she was locked in.

If I didn’t fall overboard, she would have drowned in that room. Her letter would have been her final words.

I am so grateful that I no longer have it memorized.

Only the "Dear Ruth, I am about to die," remains. If that’s even accurate or not.

There’s so much I want to share with you Nanna, it wouldn’t all fit in a single letter. Not to mention that I would never remember everything that I would want to tell you.

Thankfully, I happened to gain a wonderful adoptive mom in this time and she suggested right at the beginning that I keep journals of everything that I want to tell you. Which I have done over the years so far. I don’t think mom or Alexa would appreciate or believe it.

There’s times yet I don’t quite believe it. And I’ve lived in a time not chronologically my own, longer than I did live chronologically.

My family will keep those journals for you as long as needed.

I hope that once you get those journals that they’ll give you and dad a bit of peace. I have lived a happy, successful and full life. Not as short as you may have thought.

I got married, had kids and have seen granddad fall in love with you. Which has lead to me getting the chance to see the two of you get married. I still get to be part of your life, even if you won’t be aware of it until reading this.

Love you Nanna

Love your Emery Erik

Emery Erik Piston-Winters

She was having trouble processing what the letter said. It didn’t seem real. But how could it be a hoax? She was given the letter in person. Handed directly to her, years before anyone could know what happened to her grandson.

Those journals would tell her the truth. She’d be able to tell if they were real upon reading them.

[dearly-somber]

I Like Me Better | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, mutual pining, f2l, fluff, domestic fluff, eventual romance, eventual smut

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1066

-> warnings. None!!

-> a/n. This. This is so… 💔 I love them 💔

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. March 22nd, 2023 @ 22:15

-> fin. Sat., Jul. 6th, 2024 @ 02:05

-> edited. Wed., Jul. 10th, 2024 @ 21:34

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

You tap the end of your pen against your lips, brows furrowed and lips pursed as you contemplate what to write.

Her eyes spring to life in light of her realization that, actually, she loves him.

She loves him.

Okay.

Now what?

You sigh loudly, dropping the pen to hide your face in your hands and stare at the sentence like it’ll magically unstuck your brain.

Just as you’re about to restart for what feels like the hundredth time, a loud thud draws your attention away from your eyesore of a story to your front door.

Another thud, this time accompanied by an all too familiar drunken groan.

You loudly squeak off your island-chair, leaving your notebook open for later as you speed-walk to your front door with a growing frown. Surely not…

You open the door and can’t help the way your mouth parts in surprise: Jungkook is leaning his forehead against the doorframe, his hair disheveled and eyes closed as his body sways gently from side to side.

“Jungkook,” you say, looking him up and down with a clear look of disapproval (even though he doesn’t actually look that sloshed). “How much have you had to drink?”

Jungkook pries his eyes open and blinks a couple times as a drowsy smile forms on his lips, his eyes turning up at the corners the wider his smile gets. “Bunnyyy~”

“Wait, JungkaCK—!”

You stumble back with a little oof as Jungkook trips over the threshold and into your arms, his hands on your hips to hold himself up and his face hidden in the crook of your neck. He hums appreciatively, your skin tingling at the sensation as he holds you tighter and buries his nose deeper into your neck, a low whine rumbling in his throat.

“Kook-ah,” you reprimand softly, petting his hair while you soothingly pat the small of his back with your free hand.

He whines again like he knows you have questions and is saying not right now, please.

You sigh against his shoulder with a tiny, disapproving shake of your head, giving in without really thinking about it. You pat his back and whisper assurances when he gets loud after you pull away to close the door, gently shushing him when he starts drunkenly complaining that you’re “pushing him away” and “hurting his feelings.”

Getting him to your bedroom is a mission in and of itself.

“Why~” he keeps loudly whining, keeping his feet steadfastly planted right where they are instead of just following you like the lost puppy he normally is.

“Jungkook, please,” you fake-cry, pulling on his arm like a toddler trying to drag her unwilling mother into a toy store. “I’m trying to help you,” you plead.

“Yeah, ‘n then you’re gonna leave,” he complains childishly, his words slurring together as those big brown eyes of his sparkle because of the shitty fluorescent lamp hanging off the ceiling.

“Leave where?” you laugh. “I live here.”

“You have work,” he mumbles, finally taking a step toward you, but only to possessively slide his hands around your waist so he can pull you closer.

“Why?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and subconsciously leaning your head back so Jungkook can slot his face into your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. “You want me to get a bad grade?”

There’s a long pause before he pouts an answer against your neck. “No…”

“There we go,” you mutter, sliding your hands around the back of Jungkook’s neck to gently scratch the exposed skin, chuckling when he shivers appreciatively against you. “I tell you what—“

You pull away from him to hold his face, swiping your thumbs over his cheekbones and smiling dumbly when his eyes flutter shut. “How about I stay with you until you fall asleep, hm? That sound good, Wolfie?”

Jungkook audibly hums into your palm, finally letting you guide him to your room and only kind of complaining when you get him comfortable under the covers.

You sit on the edge of the bed and smile softly when he grabs your hand and holds it on top of his chest, his eyes fluttering closed right as his breathing evens out.

You have no idea why Jungkook was drinking, or how he ended up at your apartment instead of the pack house, but you find your stomach-resident butterflies fluttering about anyway. He got drunk and his first thought was to come to you?

Just thinking about it makes your heart race!

You slip your hand out from under his as smoothly as you can, grabbing your phone from off the bedside table. You shake your head with a fond smile at the string of drunken messages Jungkook sent you before getting here, swiping past them to your shared group chat with Jungkook and the rest of the pack.

JK’s with me !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

He’s drunk and a little clingy, but he’s safe~ (─‿─)

You smile at the string of heart messages that follow, setting your phone back down and turning to look at Jungkook.

He’s laying with his head turned away from you, one hand still on his chest and the other spread out beside him. His lips are very slightly parted and his hair’s a little ruffled from when he was getting comfy earlier, his perfectly long lashes brushing over his cheeks as he breathes in softly though his mouth.

You smile, your heart growing ten times fonder at the soft little snores leaving his lips every time his chest rises and falls, so peaceful and soft that your heart melts into a puddle of Y/N-shaped goo.

It’s in this moment you come to the realization you’re in love with your best friend.

You’re in love with Jeon Jungkook.

“Huh.”

You watch his face twitch in his sleep and think, how didn’t I realize sooner?

You ache to join him and explore these newly realized feelings of yours via some not-so-platonic-anymore cuddling, but it’s late—and you have a very important assignment waiting for you to in the kitchen—so you settle for something you hope will calm the unbearable warmth in your belly.

You lean down to place a soft kiss on Jungkook’s head, taking a moment to smell his hair (coconut) and appreciate your closeness before forcing yourself to step away.

When you sit back down to finish writing, the words flow like water.

<- prev | next ->

[foggieststars]

hear me out. sebchal family friends fic with uni student charles. seb is friends with charles’ mother maybe? even better if the age gap is more rancid than usual. they fuck in charles’ childhood bedroom during the christmas party when they’re drunk on wine. and of course the whole mentor mentee thing they have going on.

When Charles takes him by the wrist, Seb doesn't even think to ask where he's being led. The music is too loud, and the wine's gone to his head, and the way Charles winks at him sends something spinning through his bloodstream.

"Charles, where are you going?" Pascale calls from the doorway. "It is nearly time for cutting the cake."

"Yes, maman," Charles calls back, fingers tightening around Seb's wrist. "I am just giving Seb his present. It will only take a moment." He pronounces Seb the same way he has since he was 14, when Sebastian first met Charles, the second son of his thesis advisor. Seb-uh. Soft, French, exaggerated.

Pascale opens her mouth to argue, when one of the many children in attendance lets out a loud shriek from the living room. It's followed by a terrible crash, and she disappears in a whirl of blonde hair.

When Sebastian looks back at Charles, he's smiling, eager and wild.

He leads Seb into his room without a backwards glance, and Seb lets the door swing shut behind them. His room looks much the same as it did the last time Seb was in it, helping Charles over the summer break with his university project. A Ferrari banner hanging above his bed, photos of his friends and family tacked up on the walls.

Charles rummages through the drawer of his bedside table, and Sebastian can't help but admire the almost aristocratic tilt of his head. The defined profile of his nose, his chin. His mouth.

Charles turns around with a present in his hands, a box wrapped in silver paper. There's a golden ribbon tied around it, and Charles plays with it, twisting the ribbon through his fingers before he holds it out for Seb to take.

"I feel bad," Seb says, feeling ill-at-ease. "I didn't bring anything for you."

Charles laughs, gestures Seb down onto the bed. Seb perches on the very edge, well-aware of the way Charles' knee is pressed firmly against his own.

"That's okay," he shrugs. "You gave me so much help with my courses this year. I would never have made it through without you."

"Charles," Seb chastises. "You know that's not true. You're very intelligent. You just need to apply yourself more."

Charles ducks his head, a blush appearing faint on his cheeks. He shrugs. "Open it, then."

Seb does as he's told. He pulls on the end of the golden ribbon, neatly untying the bow. He slides his finger beneath the edge of the wrapping paper, tape coming unstuck.

He can't hold back a smile when he slides the box from its wrapping. Inside is a pristine miniature of the F2004, an even tinier Michael Schumacher behind the wheel.

"Do you like it?" Charles asks eagerly. "I noticed you didn't have it, when I was in your study. It's the only Schumacher championship car you don't have."

Seb feels a thrill run through him at Charles' words, one he really shouldn't be feeling. This is Charles, the same Charles who Seb has known since he was 14. It doesn't matter that Charles has been paying attention - that Charles noticed something that small.

"Thank you," Seb says, tilting the box to look at it from every angle. "This is really thoughtful, Charles. I used to have one, but it got damaged when I moved house. I've always meant to replace it."

Charles beams at him. "Well, now you don't have to!" he says, eagerly. "Look, see - I got the one with the Marlboro rear wing, because, well, obviously..."

Seb watches Charles chatter away, pointing out small details about the car. He nods along, unable to tear his eyes away from the shine of Charles' lips.

What is he doing? Sitting on a bed with a 20-year old he's known for 6 years half in his lap, letting him get closer and closer, hands brushing against Seb's own when he turns the box to point something out. It doesn't matter that Charles has a crush on him, that he's a legal adult now. Charles has had a crush on him for years, a childish flight of fancy. It's nothing Seb's ever paid attention to, and certainly nothing he should act on.

"Seb?" Charles asks, pulling him from his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Seb's still staring at his mouth. "What?" he blinks, shaking his head. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Thank you for this, Charles, really."

Charles shrugs again, blush spreading to the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you like it."

"Of course I do," Seb says, and then - "I'd like anything you thought to give me."

Idiot. Stupid, foolish, idiot.

Seb sees the way Charles' pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, the way something in his eyes lights up. This is dangerous ground he's stumbled onto. He needs to tread carefully.

"Shall we - I think your mother will have a conniption if we don't get back in time for the cake." Pascale would have a conniption if she knew what Seb was in here thinking about doing to her son, more like.

Charles hesitates, teeth catching on his bottom lip. "We could," he offers. "But you didn't give me my present yet."

Sebastian's blood freezes in his veins when Charles moves closer, shifting so that their legs interlock.

"I thought you said I didn't need to get you anything," he protests weakly.

"I lied," Charles retorts, soft and low. "There's something I want. Something only you can give me."

There's a mirror hanging on the wall, over Charles' shoulder. Seb catches a glimpse of his own face in it. He looks old, tired. Too old to be in here, doing this, with someone as young as Charles.

"Charles, I really don't think --" and then he's cut off, by the harsh press of Charles' lips against his own. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, their noses bumping together, teeth clashing.

Seb draws back, and Charles makes a low, wanting noise in the back of his throat. His pupils are blown wide, a thin circle of green around them, and he's urgent underneath Seb's hands. It's not an excuse for what Seb does next.

And then Charles says, "Seb, please," - and the last, wavering strand of his self-control snaps clean in half.

He tangles a hand in Charles' hair, freshly washed before the party and left to softly curl, and brings him in slower. The meeting of their mouths is gentler. Charles tastes like red wine and spearmint from those candy canes he kept sucking. He smells of something faintly smokey and rich, probably from the body spray Seb saw on the nightstand. It gets into Seb's nose, into his mouth, somehow, until the whole world smells like smoke. He moves under Seb's hands like a wild thing, wriggling into his lap, knees on either side of Seb's thighs. Seb can feel the hard line of his cock pushing against his stomach, even through the denim of his jeans. It's a sobering reminder of his youth, his relative inexperience.

When they come apart, Charles' lips are kiss-bitten and his face is flushed. A small whine sounds in the back of his throat. He looks sweetly eager, moving in Seb's grasp like he can't help himself.

"You like your Christmas present?" Seb asks, and Charles snickers. It's a pleasant sound.

"You're telling me that's all there is to it?" Charles pouts. "I'm disappointed."

Seb squeezes his waist, no idea when his hands came to settle there. "I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?" he asks, and Charles preens, bringing a hand up to thread his fingers through Seb's grasp.

"I really, really hope so."

[sailoryooons]

Lights | Episode 1 | jjk (m)

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?

❀ Word Count: 15,069 

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Discussions of manipulation in the music industry, there are gentle hints at the potential for Jungkook and reader to be addicts, general topics of competitiveness between kids growing up, recreational drinking, references to people using sex as advantage, allusions to topics of promiscuity, recreational drug use (weed), reader’s agent straight up trying to get her to have sexual relations with people, implications of using people, reader is aggressively goal-oriented, Jungkook and reader are a little naive and sort of love-at-first-sighting, explicit language, explicit sexual content, three sex scenes, sex in a public place (restaurant bathroom), oral (m. and f. receiving), spit play, spit in general, light degradation, rough sex, sex under the influence of alcohol (both are able to consent and want it), Jungkook drives after drinking (not implied or referenced that he’s drunk but he is driving after having glasses of wine), nipple play, vaginal fingering, reverse cowgirl, ass play (f. receiving), missionary, fucking from the side, a little bit of come play, voyeurism if you squint, a hint of possessiveness, literally so many bodily fluids like a ton, reader kind of being in something like subspace and being fucked stupid/to sleep basically, aftercare referenced, implied toxic relationships with past coworkers/current coworkers, references to vicious/toxic work industry, light depictions of cocaine use (not explicitly seen) by a side character, honestly Jungkook and reader are a lil cringe in this and moving very fast but they have addictive personalities idk what to tell you, there are hints to their addictive personalities, talk about social anxiety needing medication/alcohol to take the edge off (not good to do people!!!), very light hinting at traits that will be a problem 

❀ Published: October 6, 2023

❀ A/N: This might be the most gratuitous thing I have ever written - it actually might be too much sex? At what point is it too much and just too much come and kissing and the word c*ck, genuinely? Anyway, my goal with this chapter wasn’t so much plot as it was to introduce how volatile these two have the potential to be. If you’ve ever known someone who has struggled with addiction, you will notice the little innocent behaviors that have the potential for utter disaster. These are two people who are wildly native and very much think they are in control of their life, but who are a little reckless. It will seem like they get together fast because they do with like.. Very little regard for anything else. I really hope you enjoy this story. I think it will become sort of a little thing for me to put parts of past traumas I have into it to finally let them go, maybe! Also - I am using the western naming pattern in this with first name last name because of the ambiguity of where this story takes place. ❀ A/N 2: This story was originally named ‘Hiraeth’ but after chatting with a kind anon, I realized that the definition and translation of the word did not fit and lost cultural context from its original meaning and thus changed the title to Lights. Thank you @here2bbtstrash for the loyal beta read and @gimmethatagustd for helping me get VERY unstuck multiple times by letting me talk in circles and offering words of wisdom.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series does not attempt to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction. 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode

Jungkook looks like sin. It’s the first thought you have as you pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes nearly blinded by the twinkling lights above. But there he is, standing in the glow of flashing purples and pinks, looking right at you.

He’s standing at one of the booths on the far end of the club, which has been rented for an event that you don’t remember the details of. His eyes land on you, and though you’ve never met, you suddenly feel a connection snap into place, something magnetic. For a moment, everything goes quiet, like in those romance books you used to read when you were a teenager.

Before, it used to seem a little silly. You didn’t think it was possible to suddenly see no one else in a room full of people except one person.

Now, it doesn’t seem that preposterous. You’re only able to take in a fraction of information in the second that your eyes connect with his: round face, long, wavy hair, and an arm full of tattoos with a drink held in his hand. 

He is stunning. You already knew that from the other two times you’ve caught a flash of him at events, but every time you see him in person, you’re awed all over again by the effortless way he catches the eye.

The tension between the two of you breaks as someone knocks into you and you stumble, trying not to twist your ankle with the high heels you’re currently wearing. Too short to see over the rest of the crowd, you lose sight of Jungkook. Music comes rushing back to you, the vibration of the base and the hum of synth making it nearly impossible to hear what your agent says next to you.

“What?”

“Do you remember the list I gave you?” Mila demands, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd. It hurts a little as she drags you along, impatient after arriving at the event late because you had a problem with your wardrobe for the evening. “That list is imperative.” 

“Yes.” 

The list is impossible. You have memorized at least two dozen people that your agent expects you to talk to and rub elbows with tonight. Some of them are certainly doable - people at your own company, artists you’re familiar with. Others are ridiculous, including idols that are several calibers above your station as a newly promoted producer at ILIA. 

Sure, you have the new glow of recent popularity after some surprising award wins and being likable on social media - which matters to your company as much as producing award-winning records - but you know what they all think. You know that they think your parents paid someone or that you fucked your way out of being a junior producer. 

It helps that neither is true. It doesn’t help that you would have done it anyway, if it meant feeding the simmering hunger inside of you that never seems to fade, your desire to win outweighing everything else. 

“You should catch up with your old friend Luna, she should be easy. You trained with her in the early building stages of ILIA.”

“Yeah,” you mutter faintly. “I remember her.”

You remember almost all of them. Something about spending your formative years with a bunch of teenagers being pitted against one another to be the best has made their faces and names permanent. Even the ones who didn’t make the cut or quit on their own.

Quitting is a foreign concept to you. It’s not as foreign as Mila kissing the cheek of some manager at some company you don’t know, pushing you toward them. You don’t care about who he is. There’s nothing he can offer you if he’s not someone who makes music. And as far as you’re concerned, you’re under the careful and powerful tutelage of the Suga. 

Yoongi is a better connection than almost everyone in this building and you know it. 

Suddenly you regret turning down his offer to stay at the studio and work. Yoongi has the agency to say no to scheming agents and public relations teams. He’s already paid his way to be able to do whatever he wants. Specifically, he’s paid in manipulation, blood, sweat, tears, and drama.

You are fresh meat swimming alone in shark-filled waters. Still, you look people in the eye as you shake hands and force smiles all night, going through your mental rolodex of names and achievements. You exchange phone numbers with a few actresses, promising to get drinks. You’re sure they wouldn’t want to if you weren’t fresh off an award-season win. Still, it’s something. 

You spot Jimin in the crowd, feeling relief as you step up toward the series of booths that you spotted Jungkook near earlier. 

“Finally someone tolerable,” Jimin yells when he sees you, tossing back the rest of his champagne. He has kohl smudged around his eyes, making his gaze far more intense as he gives you a once-over. “You look ravishing. Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on the offer to come home with me?”

It would be a lie to say you both haven’t flirted with the idea. There’s something genuine in your friendship, though. Something difficult to find, a twin-flame soul that you’d be hard-pressed to ruin for a bit of publicity. Even if Jimin is the most divine creature you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

It’s out of the question, though. Jimin has become your safehaven in a house of cards world.

Looking him up and down, you let out a long whistle. His hair is freshly dyed bubblegum pink, glittering earrings looped through his ears that scatter the light. Tight black pants with a designer belt and a silk shirt tucked into the waist make him look elegant, the textured Chanel blazer cut perfectly to his narrow frame. 

“Honestly, Mila doesn’t care whether we fuck or not. She still sells that rumor to the press. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. ”

Jimin makes a face at your agent's name. He glances over to where she’s talking up someone from X Entertainment. “She’s a fucking snake.” 

“Well, she’s the snake assigned to me. It’s not like I picked her. As soon as they saw me as marketable, there she was hissing at my door and telling me I have to get in glam to wipe my ass.”

“So bite back. I know you have it in you.” You grimace and reach for a glass of champagne from a tray as it passes you. Jimin sighs as he looks you up and down. “I know you have fangs, little monster.”

You sip the champagne and make a face. It is far too sweet, fizzing on your tongue. “A dragon does not kill the sheep because it feels threatened. It kills when it pleases.”

“My girl. Let’s go around the room, shall we? I want to keep those rumors going.”

With a laugh, you take his hand and let him lead you around the room, passing Mila who grins at you as you go. You try not to leer at her, irritated with her obsession with your relationship with Jimin. When she first noticed that you and Jimin hit it off, she surprised you with an entirely new designer lingerie line. Just because, she had said. A girl should feel powerful and sexy. 

After a few attempts, Mila has finally learned you’re not a dumb little lamb. You’ll take her advice when you want it, but you refuse to let it be at the expense of the single person you trust outside of Yoongi, though Yoongi does not entirely count. As your mentor and senior, he would be horrified to hear you call him a friend. 

After nearly an hour of fake smiles, forced laughter, and far too much champagne, you’re tired and buzzed. You’ve talked to at least ten people on Mila’s long list of celebrities, execs, investors, and influencers that she’s pushed onto you. Another member of that list is standing a few feet away from you, laughing loudly at something Jimin says as she puts her manicured hand on his arm. 

As you contemplate whether or not you should bite the bullet and risk saying hello to Luna, someone behind you says, “She hates you. I think she still holds it against you that you got a producer deal without debuting.�� 

Whirling around to identify the voice, you stop short. Jungkook Jeon stares down at you, his eyes just as dark and alluring as they were earlier when you made brief eye contact from across the room. This close, he is taller than you expect. His skin-tight white shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, showing the defined muscles of his stomach and chest, and his perfect, tapered waist. 

It’s a face you’re familiar with, pasted across fashion campaigns and media outlets as he talks about his new single. Your heart is pounding as you drink him in. Soft lips, round cheekbones, and gentle eyes that darken considerably when he watches you look him over.

“Yeah,” you say back, swallowing the rest of your champagne. The carbonation catches you by surprise, making you cough as you swallow the sweet liquid the wrong way. 

He laughs and takes the flute away from you, sticking it on a tray as a server passes by. “Bad swallower?” Instead of answering him, you put one hand on your chest as you cough and the other on his arm, steadying yourself as you lean over and cough, clearing your throat. “Damn, Mozart. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasp, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. You remove your hand from his arm and ask, “Mozart?”

“Don’t you do all that composing and shit?”

“I do that producing and shit, yeah.”

“It’s about the same. You’re Min’s prodigy, which means you’re Mozart. And he’s Haydn.” 

“I’m sorry, you know the names of classical composers?”

He smirks. “I know your name.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know yours.” 

It’s a lie. You both know it is, and the grin that spreads across his face is downright devilish as he sticks his hand out. “Jungkook,” he says. You shake his hand, admiring his tattoos. And his fingers. But mostly his tattoos. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

“I would love to make that come true.”

You raise a brow. “Is this how most of your conversations go? Telling people that others hate them, name-dropping classical musicians, and making sexual innuendos?”

“Honestly? No, but I am having a great time. I will, however, drop the innuendos if they’re not your style.”

You smile. “I didn’t say that.” 

His answering smile makes your stomach flip.  “Want to get a drink?”

“Depends. Are you going to tell me about all these people who hate me?”

“This is my promise to you that I will only ever be honest with you. So yes.”

You gesture toward the bar. “Lead the way, then.”

Bodies press against you as the two of you snake through the crowd. Jungkook turns a few times to check on you and flashes you a quick smile to reassure him that you’re okay. It’s cute, you think. You don’t know much about him, but you’re impressed thus far. 

And perhaps a little intimidated by his star power and reputation. 

At the bar, the crowd pushes you closer, knocking your arm into his. He steadies you, keeping his hand on your elbow. “What’s your poison?” 

“Vodka soda!” you shout back to him. He nods and leans against the bar, giving your order to the bartender. Jungkook draws attention like moths to a flame, people looking at him and whispering behind manicured hands. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

You narrow your eyes as he waits on the drinks, one elbow propped on the bar, his other hand still on your arm. He bites his bottom lip, staring at you. “One might try and say you have something up your sleeve.”

“Nope, just my heart on my sleeve. You’re cute and I’ve heard nice things about you from Jimin. We grew up together.”

“Wait, really?”

That is a surprise to you. Jimin has never mentioned growing up with Jungkook or being remotely friendly of the sort. You frown as you think about it, wondering if Jimin left it out for a reason or felt that it was an unimportant fact. 

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hands you a drink, the glass already sweating from the humidity of the club. “What, Jimin doesn’t brag about me?”

“We don’t gossip about people in the industry.” 

Carefully, the two of you navigate back toward your section. Jungkook finds an empty booth and slides in, patting the seat next to him. You sit down and lean back, kicking your legs out in front of you and crossing them at the ankle. Your dress is short but remains modest, enough to keep people guessing. You take a sip of your drink, the burn making you hiss.

“I so rarely see you at events,” Jungkook says after a sip of his dark drink. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself for a while and then you came in and it was like we had a moment.”

“You mean you wanted it to be a moment.”

“Maybe I did.” He smiles. “So where have you been hiding?”

“Legend of Zelda isn’t going to play itself. I come to the events I feel like are worth it.”

Actually, you come to whatever Mila drags you to. Jungkook doesn’t need to know how most of your time is spent in a music studio with the caffeine shakes trying to perfect songs to make sure you don’t get tossed out on the street.  

He narrows his eyes. “Tears of the Kingdom?”

“Obviously. I’ve been building weapons of mass destruction for days.” 

Jungkook tilts his head back and laughs. “What other games do you like, Mozart?” 

Talking to Jungkook is a pleasant surprise. He isn’t at all what social media makes him out to be. You find he’s incredibly kind, certainly flirty, but also wildly endearing. You feel a little guilty at assuming his veneer would be thin and made of plastic like the rest. 

It certainly doesn’t feel like you’re talking to someone who went number one on Billboard the week prior. Jungkook doesn’t talk about other people he knows or ask about work. He flits through topics like a curious bird, quizzing your interests, scrunching his nose, and pouting when you say something he doesn’t like. 

It’s cute. He’s cute, and you’d be lying if you said that the longer you sat next to him,  you haven’t started to think about what it would be like to taste him. Even if he moves on the next day like his reputation has led you to believe. 

But… there’s something there. A spark, though perhaps a trick of the lights.

-

“You want me to what?” you ask, lowering your voice as you lean into Mila’s ear. 

A raucous chorus of Happy Birthday is being poorly sung on the dance floor. You hadn’t even realized this event was for someone’s birthday, and you have half a mind to ask who the hell you should be wishing a happy day of birth to, but Mila is bitching you out in front of the building’s restrooms. 

Even tucked away in the hall outside of the bathroom, you speak in hushed tones, worried someone will overhear her scheming. She looks down her beaky nose at you, eyes like an eagle. “Fuck him,” she repeats slowly, drawing out the syllables like you’re a toddler. “He’s into you and it would be great for publicity.”

“I’m sorry, but since when do you dictate my sex life?” 

Not only are you a little too buzzed to have this conversation, but the very implication that your agent thinks she can make you fuck Jungkook is hilarious enough to have you start giggling hysterically. Mila watches you with narrowed eyes as you cover your mouth, laughing behind your hands. 

“You are not a naive little girl,” Mila hisses at you. “He wants to fuck you, so let him. He’s attractive, he has influence, and he’s with one of the big four companies. It would be good press.”

“You and the fucking press, you’re obsessed!” 

“No, I’m right. My job is to be right and to tell you what to do, and right now I’m telling you that Jungkook is already known for sticking his dick in anything he can. He’s been staring at you all night. You’d be doing yourself a favor.”

You take a step back from her and hold up your hand. “If I fuck him, it’s because he’s hot and I want to. Not to play political chess for you, understood?”

“In my experience, you either become interesting or watch your career fade. Your time of being interesting is ticking. Your call. I’m getting out of here. Do what you want, like you always do.”

What Mila says hurts but you refuse to let it show, holding out a hand to gesture the way out of the hall. She walks by you brusquely, sweeping her blunt, black hair over her shoulder as she goes. You stand in the dark, the door to the bathrooms opening and closing, flashing bright light and then leaving you in with colors pulsing in front of you as your eyes try to readjust every few seconds. 

A loud group of girls startle you as they stumble out of the bathroom, laughing raucously. They’re a tangle of legs and heels and sweet-smelling perfume, nearly running you over as they sway, a collective mass of bodies. They look exactly like the women you cut out of magazines and pasted in your journal as a kid, dragging your finger over the pretty dresses and the designer names listed in the captions.

Luna stops short when she sees you, straightening and brushing her freshly dyed silver hair out of her face. She is cherubic and beautiful, her round cheeks flushing naturally and doll mouth always rosebud pink. You feel trepidation as she regards you, the girls in her group hanging back a bit as she assesses you.

“How are you?” she questions, settling on polite while flashing you a pointed smile and holding out her arms. 

Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.

You feel a flicker of anger at yourself as you let her pull you into a hug, resentful that you must play this game. She smells like vodka and vanilla, and when she pulls away, you see the barest hint of white on her nose. You brush your finger back and forth on your nostril. 

“Oh.” She wipes it off with the back of her hand, giving a short, shallow sniff. “Thanks.”

“You look nice,” you offer stiffly. Your tongue is heavy from drinking and you scramble for compliments to say, even if they aren’t true. “I like your new song.”

“Thanks! I have the best producers and writers available out there. They really know exactly what they’re doing.” 

You feel the strain in your smile tighten. Moves and counter moves. “That’s good.”

“My team is great. I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to be with S3vn.”

Luna’s voice is polite. Happy, even. But you hear the double meaning in her words. Remember the way she cut your hair before a major review day when you were sixteen. She’s become better at being mean in a nice way. And you have become better at being unaffected, knowing it is her least favorite response.

“It’s nice to see you, Luna.”

Her smile drops when you don’t get upset. You turn and leave the hallway, palms sweaty and head spinning. Swallowing thickly, you wipe your hands on your exposed thighs and walk back to where Jungkook is sitting, surprised to see Jimin has joined him. He narrows his eyes as you approach, but his expression is overall unreadable.

You sit back down silently on the other side of Jimin, staring off into space. The room feels like it’s spinning. You’re toeing the line of buzzed and drunk, so you sip some water, letting yourself go silent as you absently stare into the crowd, watching the cascading lights, a little lost in them.

Jimin waves his hand back and forth in front of your face. “Are you listening?”

You blink a few times, turning to see him and Jungkook looking at you. “What?”

“Jungkook invited us to an after-party. J-Hope is having some people over.”

“Oh.” 

Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift to Jungkook. He gives you a tentative smile, nodding his head in encouragement.

“You should come,” Jungkook encourages with a coy grin. “I’d have fun with you there.”

“Do you want to go?” you ask Jimin quietly, looking back at him. He still has a vague expression, one you can’t figure out. “I’ll only go if you do.” 

“Sure,” he offers. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

-

“So you’re Yoongi’s prodigy? No shit!” Hoseok asks, looking at you from the front seat of the van. City lights blur on the other side of the window and it’s hard to hear him over the screeching singing in the car and the blaring music. “You’re about as hard to meet as Yoongi is!” 

J-Hope - Hoseok, as he has asked you to call him - gives you a bright smile. You just stare at him, shocked that he has any idea who you are. You make a mental note to thank Yoongi for even mentioning your name to him. Hoseok is an absolute powerhouse and someone you’ve followed for years. It’s a good connection.

“Told you that you’d want to meet her,” Jungkook says, voice deep. 

Jungkook’s body presses against yours in the packed-tight vehicle. His hand is on top of your knee. His cologne smells like amber and sandalwood, making your eyelashes flutter as you breathe in. You lay your head back against the headrest of the seat, letting it roll to the side a little to test his reaction when you place your head on his shoulder.

He turns his head toward you, his breath fanning against your forehead. You smell his mint gum. If you look up at him right now, your mouths would be close enough to kiss. “Hi,” he says softly. 

“Hi.”

“You have pretty eyes.”

“I grew them myself.”

Jungkook’s laughter is abrupt. You grin at his mirth. He has a cute laugh, totally at odds with the edgy tattoos and the way he carries himself. The paradox intrigues you.

“That wasn’t very smooth, was it?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s honest. I like it. Your reactions are probably the most genuine thing I’ve seen all night. I like genuine.” 

“There’s not a lot of that to go around.”

“I know. That’s why I’m glad we locked eyes from across the room.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, The Lonely Island.”

Hoseok lives in a luxurious apartment on the east side of the city. The entrance is private in a parking garage, away from wandering eyes. Everyone piles out of the car and when you slide to exit, you find a tattooed hand waiting to help you out.

Grinning, you take Jungkook’s hand. Your fingers tingle where they’re interlocked with his, warmth spreading across your palms. Once you’re out of the car, you start to let go. Jungkook squeezes his fingers tighter, urging you to look up at him. There’s a question in his eyes, gaze flicking down to where your hands are clasped. 

A small grin lights up your face and you squeeze his hand back. He leads you toward the elevator, swinging your hands back and forth. You know this game well: Jungkook is priming you. The hand-holding, the compliments, and the staying near you all night are all his signals to you that he wants you to go home with him.

You want that too, but you also don’t want it to come easy. It’s a risk to make him work harder for it, but you want to see if he will.. 

“Cute,” Jimin mutters, raising a brow as he walks next to you. 

Hoseok’s apartment is a dream. It makes sense for someone with as many writing and choreography credits across the industry as him, in addition to having two top charting albums, a clothing partnership with a popular designer, and countless brand endorsements. 

It’s much nicer than the small but flashy apartment ILIA has put you in. Where your apartment feels like a model home that you can’t leave fingerprints in, Hoseok’s feels authentic. There are hand-selected pieces of art on his walls, a towering bookcase of awards and plaques, blankets and pillows thrown over the couches, books and video game controllers on the coffee table.

Someone gets control of the speaker system and starts pumping hip-hop through the two-story apartment. You navigate to the kitchen where you run into Hwasa pouring drinks. She screams when she sees you, abandoning her bartender duties and making everyone in the kitchen flinch and turn in your direction. You let go of Jungkook’s hand, casting your arms open.

“Helllooooo?!” She grips you tight, kissing your forehead and both cheeks. You laugh, immediately feeling yourself relax having seen a familiar face. The greeting is a little more than you expect, but she’s drunk and happy. You take it in stride. “I cannot believe you’re here and with… well isn’t that new?” 

“Hello, Hwasa.”

“Jeon,” she greets, narrowing her eyes. She tucks you into her arm, pointing a finger at Jungkook. “You better not fuck with this girl, understand me? She is way too cool for your bullshit.”

He rolls his eyes. “What bullshit?”

“I’m so serious. I like her.”

Hwasa lets you go and laughs it off, giving Jungkook a quick kiss on the cheek before going back to her drink-making. Jimin is nowhere in sight, having drifted off to a corner of the living room to chat with Hoseok, leaving you with Jungkook. 

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” he ventures.

“It happens.”

“Still awkward.” 

“It is,” you snark. You bring your fist up to your mouth, speaking into it like you’re giving an interview. “Jungkook, how does it feel to be put on blast for your spicy endeavors right when you walk into the party?”

You hold your fist out to him, offering him the mic. “Spicy endeavors?” 

“Promiscuous has negative implications and we are sex-positive here.” 

“Wow, such forward-thinking media. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You never will again, I’m afraid.”

Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles, gesturing to the drinks all over the counter. “You want a drink?” 

“I do.”

With a drink in hand, you both return to the party. There’s dancing going on in a corner of the living room, a card game going on in the dining room, and a smoke session going on around the couches. Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to Jimin and another girl you don’t know.

You freeze up a little, unsure where to sit. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, reaching a hand out as he joins the conversation around the coffee table. You hesitate for a second, a little caught off guard before placing your hand in his and letting him pull you against him, leaning onto his thigh with your hips pressed together. His arm loops around the back of your thighs, hand resting on the outside of your leg. Your hand drops on his shoulder as you lean into him. 

People you know stop and say hi, their eyes lingering for a long time on the way you and Jungkook lean into one another. You ignore them, content to let them wonder how it is a little producer from ILIA got her claws into Jungkook for the night. 

When a weed pen is passed to Jungkook, you watch with curiosity to see what he’ll do. He takes it but looks up at you, raising his brow in question and holding it out like he’s asking for permission. You’re surprised but you nod - you don’t control what he does.  It’s sweet. Surprising, but sweet.

Jungkook takes two short pulls, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction from you. The girl next to him whines, swatting at it and smacking his leg, giggling. You pay it no mind, unworried about the flirting. He’s not yours, and even if he was, it’s your waist he has pressed against him.

Jungkook holds the pen up to you and you make a face. “I don’t know whose mouth has been on that.”

He snorts. “Alright, Mozart. I have my own. Would you prefer that?”

“Yes, I would.” 

Rolling his eyes but smiling, he passes it over to someone else and stands, your hand falling from his shoulder. “Come on, brat. We’ll go to the balcony so we don’t have to share.”

“Thank you, that’s what I deserve.” 

He giggles. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Imagine if I meant it.”

Jungkook navigates the apartment easily. You follow him, not unaware of the gazes and whispers that pass. You lift your chin. Let them talk. The only opinions that matter to you are those of your bosses, Yoongi, Jimin, and occasionally your mother on a good day. 

Right now, nothing else matters. 

It’s cold outside. You shiver while Jungkook shuts the sliding glass door to the balcony just off the bedroom. Light floods in from the hallway into the room, casting a golden glow behind you. Jungkook leans on the railing, pulling a weed pen from his pocket and waving it in front of you like a prize. 

You snatch it from him, sticking your tongue out. Bringing it to your lips, you suck gently on the tip, filling your mouth with acrid smoke as you inhale. It burns a little, making your eyes water as you let the air and remaining smoke out before passing it back to Jungkook. He echos your movements. 

Leaning against the railing, you look out at the city. It is dazzling from this high up, a home made for a god to watch over their creation. Silence hangs between you, occasionally passing the pen back and forth. The wind feels good, though a little cold. And you appreciate how quiet it is, the sounds of the party muted through the windows. 

Down below, the street looks mostly empty. It’s so far down that you’re not really sure. Your high starts to hit, dulling the edges of everything and making you feel a little soft and floating. You grip the railing a little tighter, looking at Jungkook from the corner of your eye. 

Fuck if he isn’t beautiful. 

“What?” he asks, a smile in his voice as he side-eyes you. “You’ve got a look on your face.”

“Nothing.”

“Mm. Not nothing. What?”

“You’re not what I expected. It’s a really nice change of pace.”

“Ah,” he answers, ducking his head. You grin, realizing that he’s blushing and trying to hide it. You poke his arm, laughing as you prod at him. “Stop, you’re making me shy.”

“You? Shy?” 

“Oh yeah. I am a mess around people. I might seem good at it, but it takes champagne and sometimes a Xanax to get me to operate at a level that’s normal with everyone else.”

“And then do you stay up all night re-thinking every single interaction you had and punishing yourself like why the fuck did I say this very weird thing?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, frowning and tilting his head up toward the sky. “It is exhausting. Sometimes I’m so worried I’m going to embarrass myself that I skip an event altogether and take the fucking verbal beating from the company.” 

“Ugh, Mila would fit right in.”

“She’s kind of a snake, huh?”

You hum. “Jimin called her exactly that earlier tonight.” 

“My agent hates her. Says she’s a total control freak and vicious.” You snort. That is an understatement. “Makes her successful, though. She has some of the world's biggest names under her.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t choose her. She was assigned to me. Honestly, I don’t think she thought I had any potential to bring her success and be a household name until I won that award for producing Hwasa’s song.” 

“It was a good song.”

You smile distantly, looking out at the hazy lights of the city. Everything feels a little slow and dreamy, your thoughts fluid. “I liked it. I want to do better - be better. A lot of it’s about connections though and I… am not great at that part.”

“I think you’re doing pretty okay.”

Jungkook shifts closer. He’s turned to you, so near that you’re almost touching. He looks down at you through long lashes, watching for your reaction. You look up at him, a little starry eyed and dizzy at his proximity. This close, you can see the freckle just under his mouth. You want to kiss him, but you hold back, feeling your insecurity worm its way in.

“Yeah?” you ask, a little breathy. “Are you saying there’s a connection here?”

“Uh-huh.” He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He reaches a hand forward and brushes the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward him even more. “Come home with me.”

The breath leaves your lungs. You’re not surprised that he’s asked, and yet your body still reacts, adrenaline taking over. His gaze is hungry as he watches you, waiting for your response, finger still propped under your chin like he might kiss you.

“Take me on a date,” you assert. Perhaps it's the drinks and the weed that makes you so bold, but you want more than anyone else has had from him. You want to be different. “Dinner.”

He tries to fight a smile, tonguing the inside of his cheek. The action is wildly attractive for some reason, nearly making you waver and let him take you home now. “Do you like Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“The day after. I’m busy tomorrow with work.”

He narrows his eyes. “Damn. Gonna make me wait in agony, huh?”

You grin. “I’m worth waiting for.”

“You very much are. Day after tomorrow at eight. Wear something nice.” 

“Fine. Wear those necklaces you wore for your Vogue shoot.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh?” Jungkook purrs. “You like the necklaces?”

“I like to imagine what they look like dangling above my face.”

He shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

“Good. The day after tomorrow.” You take a step back, a wicked grin on your face. He drops his hand, staring you down. “Don’t be late.” 

-

Jungkook isn’t late and you wish that he was. Cursing over and over again, you pull the knee-high boot up your leg, thankful for the supple, flexible leather that fits your calf. You nearly fall over tugging on the next, finally getting your boots on and standing up straight in front of your mirror out of breath and flustered. 

The outfits had not gone according to plan. Something about going on a date with Jungkook has you feeling all out of sorts, going through enough outfits that your bed is now covered in them. You refused to tell Mila that you were going on the date, knowing that if she caught wind of it, she’d send paparazzi. As it is, Jungkook has assured you he’s gone through the hoops for a private dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant near the river. 

Turning in the mirror, you decide that the short, black dress over sheer black pantyhose paired with platform boots and a long, black peacoat will have to do. Grabbing your phone, you text Jungkook back quickly that you’re coming downstairs, apologizing for the delay.

Jungkook: Like you said, you’re worth waiting for. 

Me: Oh, I can take longer… 

Jungkook: Don’t make me come up there. 

Jungkook: Actually, on second thought, make me come up there.

As you pass your kitchen, you double back and run to the alcohol cabinet, pulling a bottle of tequila down quickly to shoot back a quick swig. It burns your throat, making you cough and squeeze your eyes shut as you hack for a moment, corking the bottle and gasping for air. 

At least it will take the edge off. 

Wiping the traces from your chin, you rush out of your apartment, letting the tequila burn its way through you to set the first layer of calm. In the elevator, you take in a slow, deep breath for five seconds. Exhale for five seconds. Inhale for five seconds.

The elevator dings, making you flinch. Clutching your purse to steady your trembling hands, you step out onto the ground floor of the parking garage where you find Jungkook parked illegally and leaning on the side of the vehicle. 

Slowing your steps, you appreciate the boy and then the car. Jungkook is dressed in black slacks with a belt at the waist and a black, tight-fitted turtleneck. The material of the shirt forms to his body, showing his defined arms and toned chest. 

Jungkook’s hair is slicked back, a single dangling earring on his left lobe paired with the rest of his signature hoops. You have no idea how a single piece of jewelry changes everything about his energy, but your heart rate skyrockets as you approach him, a little shy. 

He lets out a low, slow whistle. “Fuck. You are a knockout.” 

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Nah, Mozart. You look…” He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, laughing a little. “You’re gonna fucking wreck me.”

A nervous laugh escapes you and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stop in front of him, hands crossed in front of you. He pushes off the car, which is a sleek Porsche, and sticks his hand out to you. Tentatively, you place your hand in his. 

Leaning forward, Jungkook places a kiss on your cheek. Your lashes flutter, skin warm. He pulls away with a small smile. “You look beautiful. I mean it.” 

“You’re making me nervous.”

“No kidding, I feel like my heart is about to come out of my chest.”

He’s going to be the death of you. It’s endearing, how honest he is, letting what he’s thinking pour out of his mouth. You’re unsure if it’s part of his game or if it’s genuine, and it puts you a little on edge, trying to guess what’s going through his mind. 

Lacing his fingers with yours, Jungkook escorts you around the car and opens the passenger. The interior of the car smells clean and is lined with white LED lights and red leather seats. You raise your brows as you slide inside, your coat protecting you from the cold leather. 

Jungkook closes your door and rounds the back, slipping into the driver’s side. He turns to you, tilting his head to the side. You fiddle with the buttons on your coat. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he says, sounding breathless. “Kiss me so we don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

“You just want me to kiss you.” 

Jungkook puts his elbow on the center console and leans forward. He looks down his nose at you, eyes focused on your mouth. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to fight a shiver of adrenaline threatening to take over. “So what?”

“Ask me nicely,” you murmur, leaning toward him. You look him in the eye, trying to still your hummingbird heart. This close, you see the flecks of gold in his irises, swirls of brown and caramel. They’re beautiful, framed by silky lashes. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Please kiss me.” 

“Hmm?”

“I am begging you to kiss me.”

“Almost…”

“I need you to kiss me.”

So you do. 

Jungkook’s mouth is soft. He laughs in surprise but leans into the kiss, slotting his mouth against yours firmly. It’s innocent and sweet, just a gentle brush of lips. You pull away, noses bumping against one another as he rests his forehead on yours. 

It’s quiet and cold in the interior of the car, only the sound of your shallow breathing and the hum of the engine audible. Something electric courses through your veins, ignited by the feeling of his mouth against yours and you immediately want more. You’ve never felt this sudden, carnal desire before. This need to fall into him. 

For a second, you fight it. Then, you give in. 

Leaning forward, you catch Jungkook’s lips in a real kiss. It’s slow at first. You catch him off guard but he’s quick to keep up, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth greedily. Dizziness makes your world spin. You press up against the center console, sliding your tongue gently against his. Jungkook reaches a hand up to your face, cradling you as he deepens the kiss. 

His mouth tastes like spearmint gum. Your skin is overheating, and you suddenly feel  stuffy and constricted in your jacket. Jungkook breaks the kiss, panting against your lips as he presses chaste kisses to the side of your mouth and lips. 

“Did you drink tequila?” he asks, voice husky. He starts kissing your jaw and your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering. “Tastes like it.”

“I was nervous,” you pant, almost moaning as his tongue flicks out to lick at your skin. “So I took a shot.”

“I make you that nervous?” His teeth pull at your earlobe. You sink further into the seat, starting to turn boneless. You feel like you’re melting at the joints, abruptly unable to string together a sentence under the attention of his greedy, warm mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner.”

“Oh, I am. And then we'll order ice cream, and then we’re going home.” 

“Oh?” 

“My home. I have necklaces to show you.”

“Fuck.” 

Reluctantly, Jungkook pulls away. His lips are wet and a little dark from kissing you, his eyes wild. You watch him from where you’re sunken in the seat, a little wrecked from just kissing. You realize that Jungkook has the potential to ruin you. To crack you open and devour you.

And you let him. 

Reaching across the car, you cradle his face, thumb pulling at his bottom lip, damp with your lip gloss and spit. “Pretty,” you murmur. His tongue darts out, laving across your thumb. You grin. “Dangerous.” 

“Not with you.” 

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“We barely know each other.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have a sense for these things.”

“Mmm.” You drop your hand from his face. “Dinner, then. And ice cream. And then home.” 

-

Jungkook’s first lie is that he’s not dangerous with you. He nearly kills you several times on the way to dinner, leaning over at almost every stoplight to bring your mouth to his again. His mouth is addictive, each kiss intense and intended to make you fall further and further into this waking dream you’re in. 

By the time the valet opens your door to a private entrance at the restaurant and helps you out, you think you might be entirely drunk on Jungkook’s kisses alone. He laces his fingers with yours, pulling you close as you walk up toward the back of the restaurant.

Inside is a dark hall, barely lit by fixtures in the ceiling casting gold light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust as Jungkook gives the host his name. To your right is a curtain with the soft hush of diners and piano music. To your left is another curtain with no sound coming through. 

“Thank you for choosing us, Mr. Jeon. Right this way.”

The host bows his head slightly, guiding you to the left curtain. He pulls it open and gestures for you to enter. You step through after Jungkook, raising your brows when you realize it’s a private dining room. It looks reserved for events and parties perhaps, but the room is furnished with a single table and rich, mahogany chairs. 

Velvet drapery covers the walls and a large, crystal chandelier hangs over the table. The heels of your boots click on the hardwood floors as Jungkook leads you to your seat, letting go of your hand to pull out the chair. You flash him a smile, sitting as he helps you scoot in. 

He sits across from you, adjusting his shirt sleeves. Your eyes momentarily get sidetracked when you realize he has on the layered necklaces you ask for, and you grin before averting your attention to the host who instructs that the chef and the sommelier will be with you momentarily to talk about your dining options for the evening.

When he leaves, it’s just you and Jungkook with the soft sound of piano trailing from somewhere distant. You level your gaze on him, watching him watch you. The setting feels intimate, leaving you a little overwhelmed but in a good way. You’ve gone on dates, but not like this. 

“What?” he questions gently. “You have a look on your face.”

“I’m just impressed, is all.”

“It only gets better from here. I have so many ideas for dates.” 

“Oh? Plural?”

“Mhmm.” He leans back in his seat, tonguing his cheek. “If all goes well, anyway.” 

“So far so good.” 

The sommelier and the chef arrive together, hands tucked behind their backs. It’s hard to pay them much mind. Jungkook is distracting, even as he gives them his full attention, nodding along and answering their questions. He looks to you for input, but you feel a little useless, barely listening to what they’re saying. 

“Trust me enough to order?” he asks, leaning over the table conspiratorially. 

“Well, you’re with me, so you must have good taste. I trust you.” 

His foot nudges your ankle under the table playfully. He orders a round of appetizers and wine. When the sommelier asks you to sample it, you follow Jungkook's lead, inhaling the dark red lightly. It smells strongly of cherries and something sweet, making your mouth water. The taste is lush and wonderful, pleasing to the palate. 

The sommelier bows and leaves the two of you alone, vanishing behind the curtain. Jungkook lifts his wine glass to you, smiling. “Here’s to our first date and many more.” 

“Cheers.” 

After a sip, you set your glass down and look at Jungkook from across the table. “Was it absolutely painful, waiting for today?”

“I hardly survived, to be honest. All day yesterday I lay in bed dreaming of today.”

“Hmm. Is that all you dream about?”

His gaze darkens. “Careful, Mozart. I dream very vividly.”

Jungkook does impress you. With his knowledge about a wide variety of topics, with the charming expressions he uses as he speaks, with… him overall. He’s multifaceted in a way you rarely get to see with others, and you feel giddy as you listen to him.

Though you have a similar experience getting into music, it’s nice to hear Jungkook’s story. You keep it light, avoiding the darker parts of going through trainee programs and how competitive and hard it was to be a kid, growing up while working. 

He asks you about music. Not just the music you work on, but the music you grew up listening to, your favorite genres, and the technical aspects of making music. Jungkook is intelligent and familiar with the mechanics of making records. He asks questions and nods along, interested and curious in learning. 

You can’t remember the last time you had a conversation go this well, even outside of dates. When you urged Jungkook to take you on a date, you weren’t sure you’d end up liking him. Now though, as he lets you take the last stuffed mushroom because you can have whatever you want, you realize that you like him. 

It is such a dangerous game to play, especially with the rumors you hear about him. 

Instead of thinking about it, you enjoy dinner. You both finish the bottle of wine and he orders another. You’re feeling loose and warm, laughing more often and giving him lazy smiles. Even without the wine, you want to drag him to the bathroom and get on your knees. Now with a few glasses in, you’re thinking about it more and more. 

Dinner sobers you up a little, but it doesn’t remove the heat between your legs and the growing desire to kiss him again. You think about the way his mouth moved against yours, tongue gentle and talented. Your mind wanders into places less innocent, especially after dinner comes to an end and ice cream is brought out, as promised.

Jungkook carves the spoon through the dessert, leaning forward with it held out. You smirk, leaning to meet him halfway to let him slide the ice cream into your mouth. Cold vanilla melts on your tongue. It’s good and creamy, but you hardly pay attention to the taste, eyes fastened to Jungkook’s. 

“Good?” His voice is deep, soft. “I want to taste.”

You pick up your spoon, picking up a small scoop. You hold it out to him and he repeats your motion, bending to meet you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he eats it, tongue running over the bottom of his lip after to catch any extra. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, getting up abruptly. He holds his hand out to you and you place yours in his. He hoists you up and surprises you by pulling you into his chest. “We’re going.” 

You lean up on your toes, stealing his lips with yours. They taste like the wine you’ve been drinking. Your mouth tingles as you kiss him and your thoughts are cottony and slow, only focused on the way he hums, leaning forward to swipe his tongue eagerly into your mouth.

The kiss turns a little messy. You’re woozy, letting him bend you backward as he steals the breath from your lungs. Jungkook is intoxicating, your hand dropping his to wrap around his neck. You thread your fingers through the waves at the nape of his neck. They’re silky soft, sliding between your fingers. You tug a little, pulling a groan low in his throat.

“Careful or I will fuck you here,” he pants, spit-slicked mouth moving against yours. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, tasting more wine. “Devil.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

Jungkook pulls away from you, holding you at arm's length. You stare up at him, eyes heavy. You feel arousal pool in your stomach with the way he looks at you, his mouth wine-stained. 

“That’s how you want it?” His tone is threatening. Laced with something carnal. Your stomach flutters as you nod. You’re not thinking about anything but him, not worried about anything. “Fuck.”

Without hesitation, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you across the floor. You follow him eagerly, heart hammering as Jungkook all but kicks the private bathroom door open. He yanks you inside and spins you, pushing you toward an elegant sink.

The bathroom is dark. The walls are painted black and the gold-fixtured lighting is dim. It would be romantic if Jungkook wasn’t flicking the lock behind him and advancing on you. Just as he reaches for you, you surprise him, dropping to your knees and looking up through your lashes. 

He raises his brows, looking down at you, heat behind his eyes. You lift your hand to the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling it down, pausing for permission.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, nodding. “Take what you want.”

Licking your lips, you do exactly that. Your fingers are nimble as you undo the button at the top of his pants. You pull them down a little, just enough to get them out of your way. You eye the hardening outline of his cock against his briefs, breath catching. 

You look up at him. “You have a huge cock, don’t you?”

He sticks out his tongue between his teeth. “Why don’t you find out, hmm?”

Leaning high up on your knees, you lick the outline of his cock, watching as he shivers. You run your tongue to the tip of his cock, stopping to mouth at it. He curses, hips twitching as you soak the fabric with your mouth, placing your hands on his thighs.

Muscles twitch under your palms. You dig your nails in and scratch upward, the fabric hissing underneath your fingers. Reaching the waistband of his briefs, you pull down agonizingly slow. Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he lets you do what you want, breathing heavily through parted lips. 

Jungkook’s cock springs out. You feel your mouth water at his thick length, already hard from the barest stimulation. Pearly beads of precum decorate the dark tip. You hum, contented as you stick your tongue out and give a quick kitten lick to the base of his shaft. 

He hisses, hips twitching forward. Teasing him, you trace your tongue along a vein on the underside of his cock until you reach the tip, circling the swollen head with your tongue generously. Jungkook closes his eyes, his head falling backward.

You grip him firmly, gathering saliva in your mouth before spitting on his cock. He moans out loud and you grin, pumping him slowly while ducking under your hand to lave your tongue across his balls. He curses and a hand shoots to your head, not pushing you, but fingers pressed tight against your skull.

“Fuck, you like being a little slut?” he growls. 

“Mhmm,” you answer back, pulling his cockhead into your mouth. His salty precum melts on your tongue. 

Jungkook fills your mouth. You feel the stretch on the sides of your lips as you take him in properly. You let spit pool on your tongue as you slide down his cock, slurping gently as you do. It’s messy and wet and a little clumsy, the wine making you uncoordinated. 

It doesn’t matter. His fingers press into your hair as you set a rhythm, bobbing your head and sucking gently while your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. Jungkook pants above you, his soft moans echoing off the tile. 

The sounds he makes spur you further. Drool runs down your chin as he succumbs. You watch him through misty eyes, the crown of his cock kissing the back of your throat as you try to take him further than you can manage. You feel your throat constrict, coughing a bit as you pull off of him, twisting your wrist as you work him and gasp for air.

Spit and precum connect your lips to his cock in a thick string. It breaks when you cough, eyes stinging. 

“Yeah?” he asks, gritting his teeth. “Like choking on that fucking cock?”

You run the flat of your tongue over his frenulum, making him wine. “Like hearing you moan,” you admit. The slick sound of your hand stroking him makes you squeeze your legs together. “It makes me so fucking wet.” 

“Show me.”

Jungkook’s hands go to yours. He pulls you up by the wrists. Your knees feel wobbly but he holds you steady, pressing you against the counter. He steals a searing kiss from you that is more tongue than lips, hands skimming up your arms and down your sides until he’s at the hem of your dress where he pauses. 

“This okay?” Your eyelids flutter open. His nose is pressed against yours, eyes steady. “We can stop whenever or if you’re too drunk.”

“I’m not.” It’s true, you’re a little drunk off the wine, but your head is clear. You know exactly what you want and your thoughts are concise. There are no hesitations and you don’t care that you’re in a bathroom, face wet with mixed fluids. “Want it.”

“Mmm.” 

Jungkook slips a hand under your dress, fingers brushing over your soft thighs. It feels good, his dragging touch enticing. Your head tilts back, allowing him to press hot, wet kisses on your throat. His fingers pick at the garter belt secured to your pantyhose, making him groan.

“I wanna see these later.”

“You will.”

He licks your neck. “Good.”

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth sucking gently at your throat while his hand slides to your underwear. He presses the pads of his fingers over the silk, just enough to make your thighs close around his hand, gasping. 

“You are wet.” There’s a smile in his voice. He moves his fingers in a gentle circle, applying pressure to the damp spot on your underwear. “Sucking me off did that?” 

“And the ice cream.”

“Oh? Watching me eat ice cream, huh?”

“Sorry about it.”

“Don’t be.” He hooks a finger and pulls your panties to the side, touching your sticky folds properly. A moan slips out of your mouth. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest so hard you think you might have a cardiac episode. “You can watch me eat your pussy later.” 

Between the implication that there is a later and thereby more after this, and the way Jungkook’s fingers slip up and down your heat, you’re a goner. It feels so good, some of the pressure between your legs relieved as he teases your clit.

Spreading your legs wider, you lean hard into the bathroom counter. It hurts where it presses against your spine but you ignore it, content to let him push you until your head hits the mirror. 

Jungkook’s fingers tease your hole, leaving your cunt clenching. You whine, bringing your hands to his face to pull him off your neck and to your mouth, biting his lip playfully. 

“Fuck me,” you ask between kisses, mouths smacking loudly. “Wanna feel you stretch me out.”

“Can’t even wait until we’re home?”

“You can fuck me there too.”

He laughs darkly. “Demon.”

Jungkook removes his hand from between your legs and bends at the knee, grabbing you behind the thighs. You jump lightly and he lifts you, putting you on the counter. Your dress hikes up, baring your glistening cunt to him, underwear still pulled to the side. 

Balmy air kisses your skin. It’s hot in the bathroom as he cages you in, tattooed hand pumping his cock. You’re bent out of shape, spreading your legs and feeling the strain of the straps on your garner belt as you stretch them. 

Reaching between your legs, you pull your underwear farther to the side, ensuring they won’t be in the way. He shakes his head, eying your heat hungrily as he runs the tip of his dick up and down your messy folds. It feels good but it’s not enough, making you squirm and whine audibly. 

He tuts at you, sliding his hand up to press the head of his cock into your dripping hole. Your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure of him splitting you open as he sinks in. The stretch of him aches in pleasure-pain, your pussy opening up for every inch that he feeds you.

“Shit you’re tight,” he gasps, falling forward to rest his head on your shoulder. His back muscles strain against his shirt as he pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out until you’re stuffed full, walls fluttering around him. “God, I could come just like this.”

“Pussy whipped?” 

“Fuck, I’m gonna be.”

One of your hands goes around his neck, nails pressing into his skin. He sucks in air sharply. Your other hand drifts to his ass, grabbing him and squeezing. “Please make me come. I need it.” 

Instead of answering verbally, he starts to fuck into you. It’s not a slow build or something passionate. It’s needy and heady and desperate. He sets a brutal pace and you can’t help but let out a loud moan, the shape of his name escaping you.

The feeling is addicting. You cling to him, jostling against the sink as he fucks you. The wet sound of your cunt around him is loud and lewd, backtracked by your breathy moans getting louder and higher-pitched. You feel yourself shaking, fingers digging into him as he grabs your hips, holding you down to the counter.

Jungkook’s breath fans your neck, his face buried there. He curses, occasionally biting your tender skin, making you squeal. You can feel the ghost of a smile against you, his tongue soothing your stinging flesh. 

Grabbing one of your thighs, he hikes your leg higher. You slide into the sink, nearly bent in half as he changes the angle. He hits your spot on the upstroke, almost sending you into an orgasm immediately. The tension in your stomach is so tight you think you’re going to unravel. 

Instead, it climbs higher and higher. You can barely breathe as he straightens to fuck you even harder. The faucet digs into your back. You don’t care, grabbing the counter as you cling to it for life, babbling. Nothing that comes out of your mouth makes any sense and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, you come. Hard. 

Everything in your body locks up. You spasm around him, squeezing his cock for everything it's worth. Your orgasm is swift and powerful, taking the breath from you for a long moment before you finally manage to gasp for air, sagging against the sink. 

With a few messy pumps, Jungkook comes with a loud curse, head tossed back, hips slamming yours. You can feel your release between the two of you, sticky and running down your thighs. His thrusts slow until he’s left softening inside of you.

Come leaks when he slowly pulls out. The drip is obscene but you’re too fucked out to care, looking up at him in a daze. It smells like sex in the bathroom and a light layer of sweat covers your skin. 

Carefully, Jungkook tucks himself back in his pants before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser to gently wipe at your thighs. You laugh and let him take care of you, grateful that he does. He swipes one greedy finger up your pussy and pops it into his mouth, making your jaw drop.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to eat you out later.”

You chew your lip as he finishes wiping the mess from your lower half. “So there is a later, still?”

He looks dubious. “I told you that you were coming home with me.”

“I know I just thought maybe…”

“That I was gonna fuck you in a bathroom and that would be what I wanted?” You nod. “I told you, I want more dates. Something about you, Mozart. Also, you letting me fold you in half in a bathroom makes me want to drop down on one knee.”

It pleases you to hear that more than you care to admit. 

With Jungkook’s help, you ease off the counter. At a glance in the mirror, you burst into hysterical laughter. Your mascara is smudged, your mouth is wet, and you look wrecked. He laughs too, caging you in and reaching around you to turn on the faucet, running the tips of his fingers underneath and bringing them up to gently wipe under your eyes.

You smile at him as he attempts to make the running makeup less noticeable. When he finishes, he turns off the faucet but remains pressed to your back, arms looped casually around you. He has a small smile, staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, laughing.

“This is going to sound stupid,” he prefaces. “But I just feel something here. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Post-nut clarity?”

He presses his pelvis into you. “No. It’s just like this really silly… I don’t know. Crush. But it just feels right.”

Surprisingly, you understand what he means. This spark you feel with him is new to you. There’s never been anyone else you feel so natural with, so immediately attracted to. Certainly not enough to throw inhibition to the wind and suck them off in a bathroom. 

Something about Jungkook lights you up, a candle catching fire and burning through the wick hot and fast. People might call it reckless and immature, but you don’t know how else to explain this innate desire to jump in head-first with him. 

“I feel it too.” 

He kisses the back of your head. “Come on. I’m not done with you yet.” 

-

You feel lost in the lights on the way home. Jungkook’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth. He’s a little subdued, focusing on the road. You don’t distract him, content to adjust the air conditioning so that it cools you off, your skin on fire from the wine and Jungkook. 

The night certainly went in a direction you weren’t planning, but you don’t mind. Jungkook excites you. Perhaps it is a little rash and naive, but you don’t care, enamored by the layers of him. You want to peel back more, to dig to the core until he’s yours. 

Whatever the madness is, it appears to be equal. When Jungkook pulls into the luxury apartment building known for high-profile celebrities and government officials, he’s on you again, pulling you across the car to meld your mouths together. 

Dull pain blooms in your mouth, lips bruised from kissing him. You don’t care, eager to slot your tongue against his, brushing against the wet-rough feel of it. 

“Come on,” he whispers, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. “Let’s go upstairs.”

It should not surprise you when Jungkook swipes a key fob and selects the penthouse apartment, but it does. It shocks you even more when the elevator opens into a four-level home. Your mouth drops open a little as you enter, Jungkook’s fingers laced with yours. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the entire four-story home. From where you stand in the entryway, you can see multiple open-concept rooms, each ornately decorated with a modern style and neutral tones. Nothing about what you can see screams Jungkook, suggesting that his label has put him here - has the money to put him here.

The thought itself is staggering, momentarily reminding you who you just let fuck you senseless in the bathroom at an upscale restaurant. Letting Jungkook’s hand go, you wander into the main room of the apartment, stepping down into the sunken living room with large, curved couches surrounding a coffee table.

Above you, a massive glass artwork of floating lights hovers. They’re turned off, but it looks like a sculpture project most likely commissioned by a wildly expensive artist. Jungkook joins you in front of the towering windows overlooking a wide terrace. The sheer curtains do nothing to hide the twinkling lights of the city. 

It gives the illusion that you’re among the stars. Jungkook leans over and presses a button on the remote. The curtains quietly begin to roll open, revealing the view in full. It is breathtaking, much more magnificent than the view from Hoseok’s apartment. 

“They really pulled out all the stops for you,” you murmur, turning to look at him. He toes the carpet, twisting his mouth as he blushes. “This is insane.”

“It’s too much.”

“A little bit. But it’s cool.”

He smiles and reaches a hand out. “Let me show you the rest tomorrow after breakfast.”

You take his hand and let him pull you along toward the winding staircase. “I want waffles.” 

“And in the morning, I’m making waffles!”

You both dissolve into laughter at the Shrek reference. Jungkook pulls you up the steps until you’re on the top floor, which is made up of a spacious bedroom with windows that overlook the city, an ornate bathroom you can only see the door to, what you assume is a walk-in closet, and an additional terrace with an infinity pool, firepit area, and bar. 

The bedroom is more of Jungkook’s style. It’s not nearly as pristine, the sheets and blankets rumpled, all dark grey tones. There are shoes by the closet door and a shelf in the far corner with action figures and collectibles that you don’t recognize. 

In the middle of the room stretches an impossibly large bed with modern sconces on either side. Medication, a glass of water, and a watch are on the nightstand next to the bed. And no signs of other suitors, you notice, but you push the thought out of your mind as Jungkook pulls you backward toward his bed, smiling.

This time you’re slower. He sits on the bed, pulling you by the waist to straddle him. Your knees sink feather-soft into the mattress on either side of him, settling yourself on his thighs as you draw him in for a kiss. You hold him gently by the jaw, fingers spread and pressing warm into his skin. 

Jungkook’s hands skate around your hips to your ass, squeezing gently as your tongues dance together. Your buzz from the wine is gone now, replaced with desire burning through you, hot as a torch. It doesn’t feel needy and crazed now, but a little softer. More intimate. 

Carefully, Jungkook leans backward, taking you with him. You squeal into his mouth as you land on top of him, arms giving out. You crash into his chest, though not too hard. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He places his hands on your waist and precariously rolls over, managing not to knock heads and limbs as he places you under him. His knee slots between your legs, hands leaving your waist to bracket your head. “God damn, you are beautiful.”

It’s strange. You feel beautiful - or at least, you feel desired under him. Perhaps it is not the same thing, but the way Jungkook looks at you with swollen lips and starry eyes, you feel powerful. Godly, even. 

He dips back down, pressing a kiss to your mouth and one to your jaw. He leaves a wake of heat, stealing your breath away. Leaning back, you give him access to map the tender flesh of your throat and collarbones, threading your fingers through his hair. 

Eyes closed, you let the world spin. His mouth is the finest delicacy, pressing kisses that are butterfly-soft all over your heated skin as he pulls the straps of your dress. You help him by slipping your arms out. He gathers the fabric and pulls down, sitting up as he does so.

Silk rolls against your skin. It’s cool in his bedroom, making you shiver as he reveals your lacy bra and matching garter. He tosses the dress, sitting high up on his knees as you lay splayed out for him. 

“You know,” he ventures. “Normally I don’t like lingerie.” His fingers trace the swells of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the tantalizing touch. “But I could get used to it on you.”

“I only wear it on special occasions.” 

Jungkook lowers himself, planting a wet kiss on the top of your right breast. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I needed something to hold up my pantyhose.”

His laugh cools the fresh trail of spit he leaves on your skin, earning a violent shiver from you. He notices, eyes flicking up to look at you. They’re endless pools of dark, watching your every move as he slow-drags a finger up your stomach to the top of your bra. He hooks his finger over the top of the cup and pulls gently, the fabric scraping your over-sensitive nipple. 

Everything he does feels overwhelmingly erotic. You watch, hypnotized and out of breath as he sticks out his tongue, circling your nipple lazily but not giving it attention directly. You let out a wavering moan, voice gone. 

Oh so slowly, Jungkook flicks his tongue over the hardened peak of your nipple. You bow up into him, wanting more. He tsks at you and you go flat on the bed, fisting the sheets tightly to ground yourself as he grins, delighted. 

“You listen well, huh?” You nod, head heavy. You can’t think of any words, thoughts bleeding together like liquid spilled across a watercolor canvas. “Is that how you like it? Being told what to do like a good girl?”

“Yes.” You suck in a sharp breath as Jungkook scrapes his teeth generously over your nipple. 

“You weren’t a very good girl when you got on your knees and swallowed my cock whole in the bathroom.” He flicks his tongue back and forth, sending your eyes to the back of your head as you squirm underneath him. “You were quite the dirty girl, huh?”

“Both.”

Instead of answering you, Jungkook envelops your bud fully, sucking gently. Pleasure rolls through you, your pussy beginning to slow ache with arousal. Your head falls to the side, and you’re only able to pant and dig your nails into his sides where you grab him, either to hold him to you or push him away; you’re not sure.

Jungkook’s mouth is wicked, lavishing your tits. He sucks greedily, noisy as he slides his tongue from one breast to the other. When you look at him, you see sin. Your chest shines in the glowing light of the city with the evidence of his oral fixation, turning you on even more. 

Your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably and your toes curl. It feels so good but you need so much more, dripping in a way that is maddening as he starts to trail his mouth downward. He is so so slow, tasting your skin, hands skimming your sides, scraping blunt nails across your sensitive flesh. 

He’s hardly done anything and yet you’re shaking underneath him, more sensitive and turned on than you’ve ever been. You cannot recall ever being this close to falling apart from just having someone touch you and play with your tits.

But it’s the way Jungkook looks at you. The movements of his hands on your skin. The way every single brush of his tongue and every drag of his teeth scraping over you seems perfectly timed. Attuned. 

It feels like Jungkook already knows every part of your body, and something about that both terrifies and excites you, kicking your adrenaline into high gear, heart rattling, pulse beating in your neck. 

With hooded eyes, you watch Jungkook unclasp the garter belt. He is gentle and methodical, pulling every layer of clothing off with a touch so reverent that it can only be holy. He is solely focused on his task, tasting your skin when his mouth draws near enough to feel you. 

When he has you naked and shaking, he sinks to the floor in front of the bed, hands pressing your thighs open. You feel how much of a mess you are, slick and cold as the air hits you. You whimper, pussy aching to the point of madness. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah? Does it ache, baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

He blows cool air right onto your pussy. The sensation is a pleasure-sting, making you twist in his hands, trying to angle away from him to escape the cold. He laughs again, pinning your hips firmly to the bed while he presses hot-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. 

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs into your skin. “I told you that you were going to watch me eat this pussy.” 

With effort, you lean up on your elbows, watching with your mouth parted as Jungkook tilts forward agonizingly slow to run the flat of his tongue up your cunt. Your fingers squeeze the sheets, thighs flexing under his firm hands. It feels so good but it looks even better. 

He smirks, dipping down again to slow-lick you from top to bottom. You’re hypnotized, feeling your stomach lurch violently at how good it feels and how good he looks sliding his tongue through your wetness. 

“Taste just as sweet as that ice cream,” he murmurs, sliding his hands closer to the apex of your thighs to hold you open. He catches your clit with his lips, sucking softly. Your head falls back as sparks explode under your skin. “Mmm. Like this so much better though.” 

“Feels so good,” you rasp, lifting your head to fixate your eyes on him again. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 

His tongue dips into your hole, tasting you further, drinking you in. “How do you like it?” he asks, tongue slowly zigzagging upward to circle your bundle of nerves. You’re trembling under him, fingers going numb with how tight you hold the sheets. “Slow? Fast? Messy?”

“Messy.”

He hums and brings his entire mouth to you, sucking greedily, tongue laving back and forth. You fall backward, unable to support yourself as he complies with your request. You bring a hand up to cover your face, trying to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

Jungkook presses his face into your cunt, licking and slurping at you. The sounds are pornographic and you don’t care, your other hand going down between your legs to card through his hair, pulling gently. He grunts in appreciation, fucking his tongue into you, wiggling expertly. 

You feel thoroughly fucked. Your limbs are heavy, the world spinning as he devours you. He lets your hips cant against his face, encouraging you with soft little hums, mouth smacking against you. 

“This fucking pussy,” Jungkook swears, sucking harshly at your folds. “Fuck.”

“Wanna taste,” you beg, thoughts sticky. “Lemme.”

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s tongue slides through your folds before he stands up, leaning over you. You turn to look at him - his eyes are blown, the bottom half of his face shining with your juice. You whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out eagerly. He follows your lead, grabbing your jaw and squeezing as he gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before letting it drip into yours. 

You can barely taste yourself but you fold your tongue in anyway, closing your mouth to swallow. He seems dazed, pupils dilated and wild as he crashes his mouth to yours. Your teeth click together and you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself properly for a moment before he breaks away and drops back down, attaching his mouth to your pussy.

This time, Jungkook is vicious. He pulls you to the edge of insanity, your thighs closed around his head, his grip on your legs iron. He whips his head back and forth, tongue pressed hot and heavy against you. You climb climb climb climb -

You break. 

Everything in you seizes. You writhe in his hands, coming hard against his mouth. He doesn’t stop, mouthing you through your orgasm until you’re screaming and pushing at his forehead, the stimulation morphing from white-hot bliss to pleasure-laced pain. 

Jungkook lets you push him away only for him to climb up your body, ripping his shirt up as he goes. Your arms feel heavy and sluggish as you pull at his belt. Your fingers fumble, unable to work the button and the zipper, making him laugh.

“I got it,” he whispers, leaning forward to steal a brazen kiss. “You good?”

You nod, unable to form words. You are good, but you’re still dizzy from the orgasm. 

Still, seeing him strip off his shirt has you ready to go again. You lean forward, hand running up the flexing planes of his abs as he shuffles out of his pants. His body is beautiful - cut lines meeting soft skin, whorls of ink staining his arm and chest. His thighs are powerful, flexing as he kicks off his briefs, freeing his hard, heavy cock. 

You reach for him, grasping him in your hand and guiding him toward your messy heat. Jungkook groans as you run his swollen head up and down your folds, making his cock shine with your arousal. 

“Just like that,” he rasps, nodding his head. “Make it nice and fucking wet.”

After a few shallow thrusts, you take the tip and press down into your entrance. You feel a slight ache as he stretches you open despite having fucked you less than an hour ago. You pant through it, watching between your legs as he presses in until his hips are flush with yours. 

It is a tight fit. Full. But so, so good. Jungkook leans forward, placing his hands on either side of his head. You look up to see his necklaces dangling in your face, making you grin. You tug on them, bringing his mouth down to yours for a slow, gentle kiss. 

When he pulls away, he smiles. “Wore them just for you.” 

“Mmm good. Fuck me, please. Feels so full.” 

Jungkook’s left hand goes down, hiking your leg up around his waist. This time is different. He sets the pace slow, pulling all the way out and then gliding back in. You’re drenched enough to make the slide easy, your walls stretching around him the more he fucks you, setting a steady rhythm. 

Pleasure spreads from your cunt outward, unfurling like a blossom. The gentle drag of his cock is mind-numbing, your hands sliding up your stomach to cup your chest, squeezing your tits. He groans in appreciation, picking up his pace a little, the wet slap of skin against skin backtracked by your loud, heavy breathing. 

Sheets cling to your damp skin. You feel your chest heaving, Jungkook’s skin sliding against yours as he pulls you closer. You raise your hips, rolling into him, meeting his thrusts. Your hands slip on his arms, trying to find purchase on anything to ground you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

He pulls away and grabs both of your legs, making you slip. He’s careful not to pull out, pressing your legs together and hooking them side-by-side over his right shoulder, leaning in. The strain on your thighs feels good and the angle hits deep. 

You bring a hand to your mouth, biting into your knuckle. The pain is like a relief, an outlet to channel the pent-up orgasm building like an indestructible storm inside of you. 

Soft, deep moans drip from Jungkook’s mouth. Your feet flex, your body curling as the pleasure spreads. It’s like you can't sit still, every part of you exposed and raw, sparking with electricity as he drives his hips forward relentlessly. 

Your sweaty calf slips off of his shoulder. He slows and taps you on the leg. “Wanna ride me, baby?”

“Yeah. Wanna sit on it.”

“Good girl.”

You preen under the praise. He pulls out, leaving a wet trail of fluid as he does. You’re both a little fuck-drunk and uncoordinated, switching places as he tosses himself on his back, reaching up to grab pillows and stuff them under his shoulders and head.

Facing the windows, you throw a leg over his hips, surprising him by turning your back to him. He growls and slaps a hand on your ass, the sound loud in the room. You moan, spurred by the sting as you shift down to his hips. 

Grabbing his wet cock, you hover over the tip, carefully sinking down his shaft. This angle makes him so much deeper - you swear you feel him in your stomach. Speared to capacity, you take a moment to breathe, overwhelmed and overheated. Jungkook doesn’t mind, content to knead your ass and hips, fingers pressing into muscle and relieving tension. 

“That feels so nice,” you sigh, head rolling to the side. You close your eyes, pussy twitching and stuff full. 

“Yeah? I’ll give you a massage this week.”

“You’re promising me so many things.”

“Have to keep you on the hook.”

“And on your cock?”

He squeezes the globes of your ass. “Definitely on my cock. Feel so good wrapped around me.” 

Leaning forward, you put your hands on his shins, using him as leverage to slowly lift yourself. The drag feels delicious, and when you drop back down, it feels like the air is punched from your lungs. You fuck yourself on him at your own pace, listening to the sound of him falling apart, occasionally his hands cracking your cheeks. 

Biting your lip, you drive yourself to the edge of madness, shaking as your head falls forward between your arms, his name dropping from your mouth. Jungkook slides his hands under you, adding his assistance as he lifts you up and down his cock, helping you bounce. It’s wet and nasty and you don’t care, enjoying every second of it.

“Can I play with this pretty little asshole?” he asks, voice rough. 

“Uh-huh.”

Wet fingers slide between your cheeks. Jungkook presses a finger to your tight rim, not enough to breach but just enough to give mind-melting stimulation. You grind yourself in his lap, focusing on the way it feels every time you roll your hips. Jungkook’s finger circles your asshole in time, making you nearly sob as you work yourself to an orgasm, so fucking close to coming for the third time that night. 

He encourages you softly, come on, baby, and yeah just like that, get yourself off dripping from his lips. It’s like honey to your ears, sweet and syrupy. You work him faster, fingers going tight in the sheets as you hit your stride, arching up toward another release. 

It builds and builds until you’re right on the edge, so so so close that you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut, breath held, legs shaking. 

You fall over the edge, barely able to keep your rhythm. You feel your pussy flood around him. You’re gulping down air, hips still moving, broken cries interrupted by mindless babble. 

When you start to slow, Jungkook sits up. He nearly knocks you over but he catches you, carefully laying you flat on your stomach. You go boneless, barely there, and floating. Your last orgasm makes everything watery and opaque, Jungkook’s voice is like syrup when he speaks.

“You okay?” You nod vigorously, sticking your ass up a little bit. You’re a little bit useless, but you want him to come, want him to use you. He notices, laughing as he spreads your legs a little, mess running down your folds. “Such a good girl for me, giving me this swollen cunt to use. Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

Tired and spent, you roll your head to the side, closing your eyes, just content to breathe as Jungkook starts to fuck you with abandon. It still feels good, making you tremble underneath him, bordering overstimulation. You toe that line of electricity, fingers twisted in the blanket, breath hissing. 

Jungkook chases his orgasm, bending down to press a hot kiss onto your shoulder as he comes, tongue licking over the sweat and salt of your skin. 

Time moves differently then - at least it feels like it. You don’t know how much passes between Jungkook’s orgasm and him pulling out, or him finally getting up and waking you up. You’re dizzy when you look at him, head cottony and full of almost-sleep. 

Wordlessly, he takes you to the bathroom. You don’t have the mind to look at your surroundings or pay attention to what anything looks like, content to let him pull you into the shower and turn on the hot water. You’re barely there, lost between exhaustion and a post-bliss aura that makes you soft. 

When Jungkook kisses you in the shower, it’s not with the intent to start something else, but it does wake you up. You become a little more lucid, kissing him sweetly, innocent. Afterward, Jungkook wraps you in a fluffy towel and guides you through his bedroom to another room in the house, too tired to change his sheets.

You crash down in the bed together, heavy-limbed and sated. Jungkook pulls you close, already half asleep, eyes shut and mouth parted. You curl into him, realizing you fit perfectly into the curve of his body. Like you were made for him. 

Quickly you fall asleep, your last thought being that perhaps Jungkook is made for you.

-

Morning comes with a brush of a gentle mouth against your shoulder. You hum, turning your head toward the source of the touch. Jungkook’s lips press against yours, morning-slow, tired-soft. You’re sore everywhere - most notably between your legs - but you let him drag you into a lazy makeout session.

Neither of you are really awake. The sun has not come up yet, the world awash in dark grey. Warm blankets wrap around you, heat trapping between your body. Jungkook’s hand slides down your waist and dips between your legs. You part them, sighing as he swipes his fingers through you and groans when they come away wet.

No words are spoken. Only butterfly-soft breaths and gentle gasps of air as he sinks two fingers into your heat from behind. You open yourself up to him, falling into the feel-good stimulation of his touch as it brushes your G-spot.

It doesn’t matter that you’re tired and sore. You want more of Jungkook - cannot get enough of him. Already you’re thinking about the next time you can have him. Even as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly until he’s snug to your core, you’re thinking about how many more times you can take him. How many more ways you want to. 

You’ve barely started and you’re addicted. Craving him. Reaching a hand around behind you to cradle his head to the back of yours, feeling his warm breath fan your ear as he fucks you slowly. Delicate. Far too intimate for the two of you, almost strangers. 

If someone had told you two days ago that your night would start with locking eyes with Jungkook, a world-renowned artist, and end with securing a date that led to this moment, trembling in his arms as he makes you come again, you’d have thought they were crazy. 

Now, you can’t imagine it turning out any other way. Can’t imagine not feeling him shift his hand around to play with your clit, bringing you swiftly to another cresting orgasm, leaving you shaking and broken and near weeping in his arms, coming down from your high as he finishes himself off, cock twitching inside of you. 

Jungkook’s hand leaves your pussy, sliding up your stomach until he reaches the underside of your jaw. He grabs you, turning your face to his, stealing your mouth in a sloppy, searing kiss. 

“Mine,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “Mine.” 

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[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat .3

Dc masterlist

Batfam x reader x Jason Todd eventually

Summary: the batfam's approach to Y/n self harming. She makes a run for it, doens't get far of course

Warnings: self harm, self hate, innuendos, 18+ talk, Jason making passes at Y/n

A/n: I do not own dc wah

"I'll be out in a second." At least she'd cleaned up quick. Her eyes were bloodshot from puking but that was easy to pass off for just tears, she's already brushed her teeth and the bathroom was free of evidence. With a deep breath she opened the door to Jason leaning against the frame.

"I punched him for ya, Dick wouldn't let me get in more than one but I'll try again later," he tried to joke but she knew from the blood on his knuckles it was true.

"You didn't have to, I'm sorry I put a back slide in your healing-"

"You didn't do shit, pretty, it was all him, sure we'd been slowly makin' amends but I don't need him. I need you happy and safe, and he can't do either."

"I'm fine, or I'll be fine, or whatever it is you wanna hear, thank you for sticking up for me-"

"I can't let ya hurt yourself, sweets. Dick and I have decided on a plan," he said grabbing one of her hands to pull her over to her bed. She sat on the edge ready to bolt if she needed.

"You two making plans is never a good sign..."

"We're gonna move in here-"

"Oh hell no, we'll all kill each other!"

"We'll manage, for you. We'll take out old rooms, I promise not to smother Bruce with a pillow in his sleep and we can take turns sitting with you-"

"I'm not a child-" He stopped her with a pointed look, his eyes dropping just for a second to her chest.

"I know that-"

"Don't look at my boobs when you say that you weirdo."

"Stop interrupting. When should I look at your boobs then," he said then cringed at himself.

"Uh, um, I don't know? Not -I mean, this isn't a porno bro, so unless you wanna help me get unstuck from the dryer-"

"Ha, you saw that one too," he cut her off with a panicked laugh. His hand working through his hair.

"Just the memes, I don't watch-you know what never mind. Don't look at my tits-"

"Why is he looking at your...um," Dick accused in that 'I'm her older brother I will kill you with a spoon voice'.

"Can we just back to my self harm," she begged burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

"Yes please," Jason said with relief. Dick was glaring at him, then used a finger to slash across his throat in the universal I'll kill you gesture.

"Anyway, Tim is laying out the ground rules for Bruce. Which is he's not allowed to be in any room alone with you, he doesn't get any shifts as your emotional support buddy-"

"Babysitter."

"-and he's grounded from the cave until we track down the joker and cut him into tiny pieces," Dick continued like she said nothing.

"Damian agreed to drug him if we had to, to avoid the no kill rule," Jason clarified.

"You guys are the best, none-legal, half-step-adopted-but-not-really-sibling-friends a girl could ask for. But you don't need to hunt for him, I know just where he is. I was gonna deliver his head to Jason for his birthday."

"You were gonna give me head-shit I mean a head for my birthday," Jason stuttered. The others blinked at him then Dick smacked him upside the head and Y/n started laughing.

"What is it with you? Do you need to get laid that badly? I'm nothing to look at you dork," she said with disturbing ease, shaking her head like she was scolding a puppy.

"Don't say that," Dick chided sitting on the bed and pulling her sideways into his lap. She flopped over onto him awkwardly with her arms pinned to her sides by him so she couldn't wiggle free.

"I think you're gorgeous, sweets." She snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah, right my family says I'm not ugly and I'm just supposed to take their word for it, nice try. The only person in this house that doesn't lie is Damian."

"I'd prove it to you if buzz kill wasn't here."

"Dude!"

"Oh my God, enough with the sex talk! Tim might hear-"

"Hear what?"

"Ok, seriously does the robin training include popping up at bad times did I miss that lesson?"

"Why are you just now getting the sex talk," Tim asked with a shit eating grin, little fucker knew something. She narrowed her eyes at him but his grin stayed.

"No, Jason keeps making passes like a damn player," Dick explained.

"Bout time," Tim said flopping himself down on her bed on his stomach.

"hardly a time for jokes, Tim-"

"No really, he loves you, you love him just kiss already-"

"You are so dead," Dick shouted rolling her off to the side to make a grab for Jason, who's instincts kicked in and had him out the door in a blink. Their footsteps could be heard pounding down the hall followed by a few crashes.

"Alfred's gonna be pissed," Tim said like he didn't just start it.

"Dude what the hell, why would you lie about something like that," she whispered shouted at him.

"I know you love him-"

"But he doesn't love me you little shit, it's horrible for you to start trouble."

"Speaking of trouble just how much damage did you cause before Jason got up here?"

"A little."

"Let me see."

"No."

"Then I'll just have the others hold you down-"

"Fine fine, when did you get so mean. I swear just last week you weren't saying more than two words to me," she grumbled rolling her shorts up to show him the bandages. They were shallow so no blood had soaked through but he pulled a knife from his pocket to cut them away and check any how.

"I'm sorry I've-we've all been distant with you, but you just seemed so...okay. I mean before Dick pissed you off your voice echoed down the halls as you sang. Every time I passed you you were dancing. You baked cookies with Alfred every other day- I just... I'm sorry I couldn't read between the lines," he said wadding up the gauze and letting her wounds get some air.

"Tim, the singing and dancing and the fake smiles were meant to throw you off, there was no between the lines," she explained softly.

He didn't respond just continues to look at her cuts, the burn scars and what he was really hoping wasn't words carved into her skin, they were so faded they blended with the stretch mark but he was sure he could make out a few letters. Dick came back into the room alone, looking smug but his smile dropped when he saw her.

"Tim! You were supposed to watch her," he whisper shouted crossing the room and dropping to his knees on the bed.

"I did this before any of you got in here, one last hurrah," she laughed. Dick wasn't laughing, he'd found the letters too.

"What did these say?"

"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb, you have letters scared, what did they say?"

She yanked her shorts down and became invested in her cuticles turning her body away and getting ready to run. Dick sat down on the bed about a foot from her trying to give her a bit of space but all he did was give her an opening. She was up and out of reach with a quickness only a past robin could have but she'd underestimated them Dick was in her path and Tim was to her side blocking the bathroom door just as quick. With little to no deliberation she bolted for her balcony. Slamming the doors behind herself she all but leapt from the guard rail and scaled the vine covered lattice with ease. They were close behind and she had to really kick it into gear to run, zigzagging to avoid them.

"Hey, what the hell guys," Jason voice said from only a few feet from her.

"Shit," she said to herself, her shorter legs going as fast as they could, just a little further and she'd be off the property. Of course she was in slippers and her feet were getting soaked from the damp grass, she was just thankful she hadn't-shit she jinxed it, she fucking slipped, right before the damn gate too. Three annoyed vigilantes were dog piled on her before she could even begin to stand back up and fell flat on her stomach in defeat.

"Thanks for the workout," Jason groaned at her his body draped over her legs.

"I forgot how fast you were itty bitty bat," Dick said from his position on his knees next to her, one hand on her back to hold her down.

"Just where did you think you were gonna go," Tim asked, he was just straight up sitting on her like an annoying little brother showing off that he'd grown taller.

"Can I get up now?" They all eased up but before she could get her to her feet Jason tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman carry. His ass looked great in his sweatpants damnit.

"Hey," she shouted smacking his hip, he smacked the back of her thigh in response and she was disturbed to find she'd liked it.

"So what did we learn," Dick asked bending down to be eye level with her.

"That I need to spend more time on the treadmill."

(this entire time I keep picturing Tim off to the side sipping an iced coffee like he's watching a 3d movie)

The walk back to the manner took a little while and Jason was sure to give her a bumpy ride. Unfortunately he'd discovered after he'd tossed her on his shoulder she was in fact not wearing a bra. He could feet her nipples, which had hardened from the cold, against his back as she tried to cling to him for a less rough ride. if Dick was going to kill him before, he was going to make him dig his own grave now. Of course, he felt disgusted for the thoughts he had about his technically adopted sister, even more so with what he'd said to her. If Tim was right, and she loved him back he would die happy. Now though, he had to focus on making her happy.

9-26-24

taglist

@stormz369

[jadewritesficshere]

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

[cowboyjen68]

Do the Republicans in your area give you any grief about being butch?

The first day my girlfriend (at the time) and I moved into our new house in rural Iowa in 1999 we ran a rainbow flag under our American Flag up the shiny new pole my dad and I installed in the front yard. (complete with a light to shine on them at night).

I have been in my home over 24 years and have not experienced any issues at all. I am pretty well known in my community from the Post Master to the Feed Store to the local shops in nearby towns and I only get greeted with "hi" or "good morning".

I work at a farm, I shop at the locker and raw dairy and small town hardware store. I eat at the breakfast cafe in the County seat . I have helped more that one idiot get their truck unstuck from the mud on the B level road next to my pasture.

I actually have no idea where any of my neighbors stand politically and really, it doesn't matter. When one of them needs help with something I am there and when it is time to put up my hay, Kevin from next door is always on hand to help. He takes Red's Apple Ale as payment for his time.

Perhaps it is because we are only 20 minutes from Cedar Rapids and 40 from Iowa City. Maybe because over the years I am just regular site and just one of the locals. I am no threat to their beliefs because I don't care to tell others how to feel and think about my presence in the community. The best gifts I given myself has been to be a good neighbor and customer, confident in who I am, a lesbian and butch woman and to smile and say "hello" when I am out and about.

I am sure it is a combination of being very lucky, living in just the right place and my personality.

There is no way they don't know I am a lesbian. I continue to hang up the rainbow flag in June, a labrys flag in May and one look at me is a dead giveaway with or without noticing my rainbow necklace. My social media is often tagged Iowa so I show up on the feeds of lots of people who don't know me but see me in public and say they follow me.

Iowa, the area of Iowa, I occupy is pretty much a live and let live mind set. No one wants to be told what to think. People appreciate others showing up to help and no one brings up politics during small talks or casual conversations with strangers in line at the DMV.

When the subject has come up or during election season (which seems very often in Iowa) every conversation I have had with others is respectful even in disagreement. I don't get worked up with I see the flaws in the politics of others. It is an argument I can't win if they are going off of false pretense and their minds are firm. So I don't spend the energy unless they really want to listen, which does happen. In turn I listen to them. Listening shows respect but there is no expectation of mind changing.

[cuddlepilefics]

Better out than in

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Seonghwa

Caregiver: Hongjoong

Prompts: Vomiting / “I got your hair, it’s fine.”

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

Seonghwa always loved visiting new places and making memories with his friends, so he was ecstatic to learn that they’d get some time to explore the cities while on tour in America. The weather too seemed to be on their side, blessing their outings with sunshine. A little too sunny from time to time, maybe. With the comfortable air-conditioning in their hotel, it was hard to convince anyone to go out and explore but Hongjoong didn’t want to disappoint his hyung, who had been looking forward to spending his free time outside. Exploring was always more fun together and going alone could get overwhelming, so it was understandable that Seonghwa was so desperate to convince someone to accompany him. With a sigh, Hongjoong reapplied his sun protection before joining the eldest and humming: “Let’s go. Anywhere specific you wanted to see?”

The leader already regretted his decision a couple of blocks down, as he was drenched in sweat despite not having gone very far yet. Seonghwa was in high spirits though, only tugging on his shirt occasionally to get it unstuck from his sweaty skin. Long hair could really make one’s neck sweat, he discovered, running his fingers through his hair. This was the hottest he had been since growing out his hair and he couldn’t help but fantasize about a short hair cut, despite usually liking his longer hair. Hongjoong swiped his wrist across his forehead, brushing off droplets of sweat before fanning himself with his snapback. “That looks like a mini-market ahead”, the leader panted, “Let’s grab something to drink there. Pretty sure, I already lost all my fluids through my pores.”Seonghwa chuckled at that but no matter the whining, he was still glad that the younger had agreed to accompany him.

While Hongjoong bought a bottle of cold soda, Seonghwa decided to wait and only buy a drink once he felt thirsty. He didn’t want to carry a bottle around and he also didn’t want to force himself to finish it quickly, so he wouldn’t need to look for a restroom while they were out. “You sure you don’t want anything?”, Hongjoong asked after drinking a few sips, “The cold feels amazing.” – “I’m sure. Maybe we can get some ice cream somewhere. That would be the perfect refreshment for a hot summer’s day like this”, Seonghwa laughed, wiping the sweat off his neck. It still took a while of touring the crowded streets for the two of them to come across an ice cream truck. Having just finished the last sips of his soda, Hongjoong frowned: “I just had a fizzy drink. There’s no way I could eat right now.” – “More for me, I guess”, the older beamed, getting multiple scoops.

After accidentally dripping some melted ice cream onto his shirt, Seonghwa proposed taking a break and the two of them found a shaded bench in a small park, where they could sit and rest for a bit. They probably wouldn’t be out for very long anymore anyway because it was simply too hot but there were a few sights, the eldest still wanted to visit and who was Hongjoong to deny him? As they resumed their walk though, Seonghwa was slower than before. It took a while for the leader to notice because he himself felt his energy zapped by the unbearable heat but when his friend slowly developed a limp, he couldn’t help but get concerned.

“It’s probably just because I ate something cold but my stomach kinda hurts”, Seonghwa admitted quietly. As if to prove his point, the organ grumbled noisily, making him blush. Shooting the older a crooked smile, Hongjoong reminded: “You know, we can head back if you want to. Maybe you’ll feel better if you lay down for a while and we can see if we get a chance to come out here once it cooled down a little.” – “You just wanna go back to the hotel, don’t you?”, Seonghwa chuckled weakly but agreed, “Since the heat probably isn’t helping, I guess, we can go back now, though I don’t think we’ll have another opportunity.” He grew quiet after that and they slowly strolled in the direction of their hotel. Seonghwa’s stomach was definitely churning now and he winced as every step jostled it.

Despite the sun beating down on them, Seonghwa suddenly felt cold and goosebumps covered his arms. Hongjoong seemed none the wiser and was mostly glad that the older finally decided to head back. This was no weather the leader enjoyed being out in and he couldn’t wait to stretch out on his hotel bed and let the air-conditioning blast cold air down on his overheated body. Deep in his fantasy, Hongjoong startled when Seonghwa gripped his shoulder hard.

It had become increasingly difficult for Seonghwa to place one foot in front of the other. Partly due to the pain in his abdomen and partly because the heat seemed to affect his circulation and he found himself growing a little lightheaded. The pain slowly morphed into nausea and he broke into a cold sweat, hands trembling as he tried to keep himself upright. This wasn’t good. Their hotel was still a couple of blocks away and Seonghwa could only hope they’d make it back there before he collapsed, or even worse, ended up puking in public.

Seonghwa’s prayers went unanswered and he stumbled, catching himself on Hongjoong’s shoulder as his stomach lurched. Shocked, the leader spun around and rushed to grip Seonghwa’s arm, steadying the older while muttering a curse under his breath. Strands of Seonghwa’s long hair fell into his face as he doubled over retching and Hongjoong quickly gathered them in one hand. “I got your hair, it’s fine”, the leader hummed, using his free hand to pat the other’s back. Unsteady on his feet, Seonghwa only tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder as another wave splattered onto the pavement, the tips of his ears burning with humiliation. When his stomach finally stopped throwing a fit and he managed to straighten up, he was pale as a sheet, except for his ears. Tugging the older away from the puddle, Hongjoong frowned: “What’s going on? I expected your stomach to hurt, yeah, but that’s a little worse than you mentioned.” – “Don’t feel so good anymore”, Seonghwa mumbled, rubbing his face. “I can see that”, Hongjoong nodded but couldn’t get anything else from the older.

Linking their arms, Hongjoong guided Seonghwa back to the hotel, their pace slow. The eldest still felt incredibly dizzy though he couldn’t tell if it was the heat or anything else. Hongjoong too was confused. Seonghwa wouldn’t have gone on their nerves begging to explore the city if he had already been feeling low earlier, so what could’ve happened in the short time span they had been out? “The more I think about it, the more I suspect it was the ice cream”, Seonghwa groaned, slipping a clammy hand under his shirt to palm at his bloated middle, “Felt fine before that but now…” He muffled a queasy burp against his fist, which left a sour taste on his tongue. “Better out than in then, I guess”, Hongjoong sighed. Trying to speed up, Seonghwa stumbled into Hongjoong and the leader frowned: “Are you going to be sick again?” He crossed his fingers that the answer would be no because the hotel wasn’t even in sight yet but he wasn’t so lucky, Seonghwa giving an urgent nod.

By some strike of luck, Hongjoong managed to pull the older between some trashcans at the back of a building before gathering the sweaty strands of his long hair at the back of his head. Swallowing back bile, Seonghwa braced both of his hands against the bricks to steady himself against the wave of dizziness that washed over him but could only fight hack the nausea for so long. With Hongjoong reassuring him that he was perfectly concealed where they stood and that his hair was out of the line of fire, the eldest took a shaky breath and gave up fighting. A harsh retch tore at Seonghwa’s throat and made him shudder. He couldn’t even see the puddle at his feet as sweat had run from his brow into his eyes, blurring his vision. Was it still so hot? He had no sense of temperature but the air was still humid and hard to breathe, making him lightheaded.

Seonghwa stumbled, knees almost buckling before Hongjoong caught him around the waist and steadied him. “Breathe”, the leader shushed, pulling the older back and guiding him a few steps away. Slumping against the wall, Seonghwa winced. The warm bricks against his back reminded him of his damp shirt, completely drenched with sweat. It was definitely hot. He could feel it now. Lifting the hem of his shirt, he wiped his face and sniffled: “Gosh, I really wanna take a shower.” – “We’re almost there”, Hongjoong comforted, rummaging through his bag, “You want some gum? It’s your call when you’re ready to continue.” Gulping miserably, Seonghwa accepted the gum and pushed away from the wall. He swayed for a moment but groaned: “Let’s go. I really want that shower and I’d prefer the privacy of a bathroom next time.” Though Hongjoong had expected it, hearing Seonghwa confirm that he probably wasn’t done throwing up for long did stress him out a bit.

The peace lasted long enough for them to reach the hotel though and Seonghwa even managed to take his shoes and shirt off before finding himself draped over the toilet, heaving uselessly. Hongjoong had quickly pinned his hair back with cute, little clips and out of his face before running a towel under cold water and draping it across the back of his neck. “Let me get you some water and a fresh change of clothes”, the leader whispered, patting his hyung’s bare back before getting up. He hurried and also adjusted the air-conditioning. The water bottle he pulled from the mini fridge had condensation on it when he placed it onto the sink. Panting, Seonghwa pulled the wet towel off his neck and wiped his face on it. Only when he lowered it again did Hongjoong see the tears in his eyes. Gently removing the hairclips, the leader ran his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair and whispered: “You’ll be okay. Do you wanna take that shower now? Might help you feel a little better. If you’re not too dizzy, that is?”

Seonghwa decided to take a quick shower, though he opted for sitting down and he took Hongjoong up on his offer to wash his hair because his stomach cramped painfully when he tried to lift his arms above his head. Still, it took a lot out of him to wash up, especially after he spent another five minutes dry heaving over the drain. It was absolutely worth it though. Being clean made him feel more like himself, allowing him to relax after stretching out on the bed. Hongjoong set the trashcan next to the bed and draped a cold towel across Seonghwa’s forehead, humming: “Should I set the temperature a little warmer? You still got goosebumps.” – “Nah, it feels nice”, the eldest breathed, keeping his eyes shut, “Thanks Joong. And thanks for going out with me in the first place.” – “You’re welcome. Get some rest now”, the leader smiled, “I’ll be here.”

[saucyjothoughts]

🌼 i was literally just in your inbox talking about feminized kris but the nacekris got to me. bless you saucy its one of my favorite ships. i realise this is pretty long to drop in your ask box so i apologize if thats bad etiquette - i got carried away

i imagine theyre in the london apartment. kris thinks hes all alone putting his get up on. for all intents and purposes, hes supposed to be. nace just comes home earlier because he realises hes forgotten his metro card.

its a set he found in london, on his way back from his photoshoot with damon. he stopped at the mall just to pick up shampoo, he swears, but on the way to the pharmacy he passes the lingerie store.

he actually gasps seeing it in the window. its extremely pretty. innocent in the dirtiest way possible. pretty and pink, and mostly see through, a little bow with a pearl in the middle of the knot right above where his cock would sit in the panties. the bralette is a bandeau with no sponge padding but still the sort hed shove his pecs into and the way the elastic bands at the top and bottom would crowd them would turn them into small handfuls.

he stares as he passes it and is distracted through his entire pharmacy trip. he picks up the wrong shampoo and realises as hes queuing for the checkout, twice, and almost forgets to pick up the cough drops jure asked for. he tries to pay with the wrong card and lets out a string of colorful slovene as it declines and he has to pick out the correct one. he apologizes to the cashier for the inconveniece as he punches his pin in, and she makes a joke about him being distracted with valentines day coming up. he swears all of his blood leaves his brain and his legs and arms as he blushes scarlet and stutters something like an agreement, which just makes the cashier giggle more.

he does stop for the set. somewhere between the pharmacy and the store something in his brain breaks fundamentally, he guesses, and its like the dial on his self control is a level pushed so hard it cant be unstuck ever again. he walks in and gets help from a sales assistant. he tells her a pretty story about his girl named tina (conveniently leaving out how that comes from kristina), and their planned trip to his hometown for valentines day, and really he just wants to surprise her so bad with the set in the window she saw the other day.

he thinks the lever on his self control mightve unstuck when he gets to checking out, but he spots some almost entirely transparent stockings and it becomes apparent said lever might never become work normally again. but you dont understand, theyre so beautiful, theyd look like theres just a line down the back of his legs. thank fucking god he knows his measurements, he thinks not for the first time. a lifetime of getting pants tailored for his longs legs is good for just the one thing, he guesses.

he tucks the set and the stockings, in their packaging, in the very bottom of his backpack, under everything else and hopes he finds a place in his shared fucking room he can hide it well enough. fuck that broken lever, seriously.

the whole ordeal leaves his heart beating so hard he chainsmokes his last four cigarettes in the bus stop, hoping he gets home at least looking normal.

now, in his room, hes putting on the set, hoping he at least gets to look at himself in the mirror before everyone else comes home if nothing else. he's midway through putting on the bralette, trying to figure out how to do the closing mechanism in the back properly with how wide the bandeau is, when he hears the apartment door open and close.

fuck no shit no fuck fuck fuck fuck. hes trying to be quiet, searching for his pants, pretending to be alseep, hoping whoever entered isnt looking for him or anything in his room.

of course luck isnt on his side. of course he hears, "kris? are you up? i think my metro card fell out of my jeans in there last night."

right, of course, he and nace hung out until late last night in his room, until bojan kicked them both out to facetime jere in peace. he must be quiet for too long, because the door opens before he gets to say just a sec or anything similar and now hes there, lace panties on, pink roses all over his ass and god, the bow too, and hes holding the bralette in his hands and now naces there and hes so fucking mortified and-

"im sorry," nace says too quickly and closes the door, and his blushing face and dilated pupils is burned onto kris's retinas for ever and ever now, he thinks.

he hears the apartment door close and lock and thats that for now. christ on bikes.

sure, hes slept with nace before. hes slept with everyone in the band, and a few people in the crew. several times. but thats different. quickies in venue dressing rooms, and club bathrooms and one memorable time in the tour bus lounge area. thats different.

hes not even in the mood anymore. he changes and tucks the lingerie away and takes a cold shower that takes too long. is there something wrong with him? the store in the mall taught him that his self control is shot when it comes to pretty underwear but now hes really thinking its something else. like, psychologically. he thinks about texting damon to get his ass here, since there is no way in hell hell talk to anyone in the band about it and damon might be his best shot, but then decides to look up therapists near him when words like nymphomania and hypersexuality pass his mind. his questionable health insurance policy leaves him, however, thinking that would be better to consider when he returns to slovenia. he gets in bed despite it being barely late afternoon and tosses about and then sleeps until the next day.

nace doesnt say anything about it, but keeps giving kris these long looks when he thinks he isnt looking, which might be worse.

the situation does resolve itself, in the most satisfying twist of fate, when they end up alone in the house a week or so later.

jan is the last to leave and hes barely out of the door, throwing one last shifty look to kris and nace (because of course hed notice something is up), when nace pins him to the nearest wall in the living room. nace starts kissing and biting at his neck before kris can even gasp, and then starts speaking.

"god, you were so pretty. all lace and blush." and kris is so suprised, nace never initiates this aggressively, which has a thrill going through him at just the thought, and he lets out the most embarassing sound of his fucking life right then.

"cmon, baby," nace continues, and its so uncharacteristic and so rough and so erotic, kris is so hard he becomes light headed. "why dont you go put your pretty clothes on, huh?" kris barely manages to gulp and nod, and then theyre rushing to his room, naces hands all over his back and ass and waist on the way. its clear nace was as affected as kris is and he doesnt know what to do with himself, his brain getting fuzzy from arousal and embarassment.

in his room, he gets out the set nace got a glimpse of and sets about putting it on. he chooses not to examine how satisfying the whole ordeal is, from how the lace is laying against his ass to nace groaning and gripping himself through his pants. the groaning gets loder when he bends over to put on the stockings.

he turns back to face nace when its time for the bralette and puts on his most innocent face. nace, thankfully, gets it, and helps him do the back.

"what a pretty girl you make," he comments off handedly, and something breaks further is kris's brain. oh. nace catches on, of course, and grins in that dangerous way he does. "look at you, dressed up all nice for me. and so shy, never wouldve showed me. do you want to out anything else on? or can i have fun with you now?"

kris has not felt this out of his fucking mind since he got high for the first time, almost a decade prior. he barely gets to squeak out, "shoes. lipstick."

naces eyebrows hit his hairline when he processes what hes hearing and he hums, "where are the shoes, pretty girl? put your makeup on, ill get them," he says, all gently.

"under- in the closet, in the black box, under the jackets." nace kisses his forehead and turns to rifling through the closet.

kris's one and only lipstick, he bought on accident. he bought it in poland at a drug store, thinking it was a balm, which he still half thinks it is, except its extremely pigmented, a nudey pink, but impossible to miss. he puts it on in the full length mirror, which lets him see nace finding the shoes, and whistling when he opens the box.

theyre simple pink pumps he bought second hand weeks ago, which thinking back, is probably when he shouldve realized his self control was shot. he planned to donate them again or throw them away before moving back, depending on how shot they were by that time.

"cmon, sit down, ill help you." and he does. naces hands on his legs feel reverent, and kris feels the band on his panties lift with how turned on he is. nace looks him up and down, and when he finally gets to look at his face, he breathes hard.

kris never gets to walk around in the heels. nace pushes him down on the bed in the next second and kisses him hard, smearing make up all over his face. nace drags down the bralette and tortures his nipples with his teeth and hands until theyre puffy and red and erect. like a girls, kris's brain helpfully supplies.

one hes done with kris's nipples, nace lets his mouth run. he tells kris how pretty and sexy he is, how nice it is of him to surprise nace like this as he pushes the panties to the side, spitting on kris's hole a few times before he pushes a first finger in.

kris cant keep his noises in, moaning and whimpering and gasping. at one point, nace stops fingering him to push the bralette back up over his tits, and the lace rubbing iver his raw nipples almost has kris coming right then.

nace keeps his mouth running as he fucks kris, kris's pumps on his shoulders. its probably the most vocal kris has seen him during sex. moaning and groaning and praising and degrading kris all at one. calling him pretty, and a dirty girl all in one, and calling him perfect fucking slut for me, which shoots kris's brain up into flames.

when kris is close, nace jerks him off through the panties until he comes in them, ruining the lace, and then pulls out to jerk himself off and come over them, too. kris feels so dirty and so hot, and hes so in his head about it he doesnt feel when nace drags the panties down to his knees, and gasps loudly when nace begins licking at his wet cock to clean him up. nace continues long after hes clean, only stopping when kris is too over sensitive to take it anymore.

kris's mind is far away as nace takes off all the pieces of his set, and takes him to the bathroom to wash him off. nace kisses his neck and face and whispers praises as he washes kris's hair and body. he even changes the bed sheets, which kris is extremely thankful for, and puts the lingerie in the bag kris took it out of.

they cuddle for a long time, until kris can vocalize more that hnggggh, "do you figure i could get the panties dry cleaned? so we can mess them up again."

nace laughs with his entire chest, and runs his hair through kris's damp hair, "ill buy you a thousand pairs if you let me mess them up."

NaceKris nation, come get your breakfast!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Caught In A Web ~ 13

CAUGHT IN A WEB MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,320ish

Summary: Tony and Pepper meet up.

Notes: I know it's been so long, but here's an update!

You could sense Tony’s nervousness as you sat across from him at the dinner table. You couldn’t understand why though. You thought that this afternoon’s activities went well. Maybe Tony didn’t feel the same. Finally, after letting the awkwardness brew, you couldn’t stand it any more and broke the silence.

“What’s going on, Tony?” You questioned. “Did something happen today and I totally miss it?”

Tony sighed, not meeting your gaze. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Your stomach dropped. As you swallowed, you placed your shaking hands in your lap, hidden from Tony’s view. “What about?”

“Well, do you know who Pepper is?”

“Yes, Tony, I know who she is. She was your assistant, turned CEO, turned, uh, girlfriend.”

He chuckled nervously. “That’s a way to put it.”

“She left the company when you two… uh, broke up, right?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, what about her?”

“Well, Pepper, she reached out to me.”

“Oh?” You felt like you were going to throw up and your hands were growing sticky.

“She wants to get together and talk.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, sucking in your lips as you tried to stop the threatening spiral of emotions.

“I haven’t responded to her yet. I wanted to run it by you first.”

Slightly, your stomach lifted. “You did?”

“Well, yeah,” Tony cleared his throat. “We are kinda—well, we are—“

“Dating?”

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “That’s the word.”

You let a small smile form as you looked at Tony. “So, do you want to meet up with Pepper?”

“I’m interested in hearing what she has to say.”

Your stomach fell again. “Is… is there something that you’re hoping that she says?”

Tony immediately understood what you were getting at. “Y/N, if you don’t want me to meet up with her, I won’t. I won’t do anything that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I… I want you to do whatever you feel like you need to do. Talk to her. Get some closure.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t—“

“I’m sure, Tony. I promise.”

Tony didn’t fully believe you, but he nodded anyway. He reached his hand across the table and beckoned for your hand. You wiped your hand on your pants before setting it in his. He gripped it, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Thank you for understanding,” he softly said.

“You’re welcome,” you replied.

~~~

The two of you stayed at the Compound for a two more days. You worked in the lab together and swung around on your new playground.

During the time there, Tony had reached out to Pepper and they had scheduled to meet when the two of you got back to the city. You were feeling fine about Tony meeting up with Pepper at first, but as you two returned to the city, you were struggling with it. You trusted Tony and believed that he wouldn’t do anything that would put your relationship in jeopardy. But you didn’t know much about Pepper, other than she was the one to break it off with Tony and leave her position as CEO of Stark Industries.

You were in the lab with Bruce when Tony came in to say goodbye.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Tony asked you. He had noticed that you were growing increasingly uneasy, especially as the pencil you were working with got stuck to your hand.

“I’m fine, Tony,” you responded, only for him to not believe as you were too distracted with getting the pencil unstuck.

Tony sighed before gently taking your wrists and pulling your hands toward him. “I don’t believe you, sweetheart.” He pulled the pencil from where it had stuck to you. After setting it down, he placed his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, silently staring at the buttons on his shirt. He had dressed up in a nice suit and button up shirt for Pepper. 

“It would really help me if you would speak, sweetheart.”

“I trust you,” you said, still not making eye contact.

“I think I’m going to stay here. You clearly aren’t comfortable with this. I—“

“No, no,” you grabbed Tony’s jacket lapels and looked him in the eyes. “Go. Have fun.”

“I promise I won’t be too long.” 

Tony leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, you let go of him but immediately wanted to pull him back in and tell him to stay. Tony shot you a smile before heading out. After watching him until he disappeared, you got back to work. Bruce was still in the lab and had watched the whole interaction.

“Don’t worry about Tony,” Bruce told you, catching your attention. “He wouldn’t do anything that could hurt you.”

You nodded, going back to focusing on your work and try to forget about what Tony was up to.

~~~

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Pepper said as she sat across from Tony. The two were at a nicer restaurant and had been seated to allow them some privacy.

“Honestly, Pep, I’m not exactly sure what this is,” Tony said.

“Just two friends, talking and having dinner together.”

Tony nodded, picking up the menu to look at it. Pepper followed suite, constantly stealing glances over the menu. After drinks had been ordered and brought and the food had been ordered, the two sat there, awkwardly sipping their drinks.

“So, Tony,” Pepper started, “how have you been?”

“Good,” Tony responded. “You?”

“I’ve been good as well. How’s the company?”

“It ran much smoother when you were there, but it’s getting by with me back at the head.”

“That’s good.”

The two made idle-chitchat as they waiting for the food to come. It continued on even as they ate, until Tony couldn’t handle to know why they had met up.

“Why did you want to meet up, Pepper?” Tony asked as the plates were cleared. 

“To be honest, Tony,” she paused with a sigh, “I’ve missed you.”

Tony was speechless for a second. Yes, at one point Tony had missed Pepper dearly and sometimes still did when it came to running the company. But now Tony had you in his life and couldn’t imagine ever going back to Pepper.

“Pepper—”

“I know, I know, I’m the one that broke it off and I’m sorry. I’m sure I put you through hell. I promise that—“

“Pepper. I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh.” It was clear that to Tony that Pepper was taken back. “I—I hadn’t heard.”

“It’s new. We’re taking it slow and planning on keeping it private for a while.”

“Slow and private, huh? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Things have changed for me, Pepper. I have changed.”

“Clearly.” She took a sip of her drink. 

Tony waved down the waiter. “I think we’re ready for the check.”

“Of course,” the waiter replied, hurrying off.

“We don’t need to end this quickly, Tony,” Pepper said.

“I think we do.” 

Tony stood up, pulled out a wad of cash from his inner coat pocket and threw down a few hundreds on the table. He then turned and began heading out, with Pepper quickly following.

“Tony! Tony!” Pepper called. “Please! I’m sorry.”

Tony’s car drove itself up to wear Tony stopped at the curb. He turned around to face his former friend and lover. “I’m so glad we did this, Pepper. It’s truly helped me close the door on our relationship.”

Pepper reached out and grasped his arm, causing Tony to pause. She quickly closed the gap and kissed him. Tony was quick to push her away.

“Don’t ever call me again,” Tony said, his tone laced with slight anger that had never been used toward Pepper.

She stood there, almost frozen as Tony slipped into his car and sped away. What neither of them noticed was a nearby man, catching the whole thing on camera.

next chapter >

[infiniteeight8]

Omega Tony x Alpha Stephen, except, Tony is the dominant one in bed.

Ooh, I like it. For anyone who enjoys this particular A/B/O dynamic and is flexible on fandoms, I recommend Claimed by @cupcakefoggy (Thirteen Lives fandom).

Have an entire sex scene under the cut. It’s hard to resist sub!Stephen. lol.

-

Stephen has barely cleared the bedroom threshold when Tony grabs him by the front of his robes and all but drags him over to the bed. Stephen laughs, unresisting. “I’m quite willing to cooperate, you know,” he teases.

Tony scoffs. “You like it when I manhandle you.” He begins quickly and expertly stripping Stephen out of his robes.

Stephen flushes, because it’s true. Stephen is no slouch, physically, but Tony keeps in shape to operate a forge, not to mention the armor, which requires a certain degree of strength to move no matter how well the nanotech assists Tony. The thought that Tony, an omega, is more than capable of holding down Stephen, an alpha, goes right to Stephen’s cock every time.

“To what do I owe today’s eagerness?” Stephen asks, not that it’s unusual. Tony has a higher non-heat libido than anyone else he’s ever been with. It’s a little intoxicating, being wanted that much.

“I got stuck,” Tony says. He leaves Stephen to take off his boots while stripping out of his own clothing. One of Tony’s go-to methods for clearing his mind when he hits a wall is jerking off. Unfortunately, while the orgasm does help him think, sexually it just riles him up. 

Stephen gets his pants off and slides backwards onto the bed, pulling a couple of pillows over to support his head and shoulders. He’s just in time; Tony crawls over him and fists a hand in the hair at the back of Stephen’s head, holding him still for a deep, hungry kiss. Stephen moans into it and yields. When Tony pulls back, his eyes are dark. “And then I got unstuck and you still weren’t home.”

“Terribly sorry,” Stephen says, and it’s supposed to be a tease, but part of him is sorry. 

“You can make it up to me,” Tony murmurs, sliding a hand down Stephen’s body and wrapping it around his rapidly hardening cock, “by giving me a nice, thick knot to ride.” He kisses Stephen again without waiting for a response. Not that a response is really necessary: Stephen���s body reacts to Tony as it always does. Pleasure sparks warmth in every inch of him. Stephen could swear that he can feel his pulse in his palms where they curl around Tony’s hips, a much needed anchor in the whirlpool of sensation.

When Tony pulls back from the kisses, Stephen leans up after him automatically and whines softly when Tony presses him down with a hand on his chest. “As much as I enjoy your mouth,” Tony says, sliding backwards just a bit, “it’s not what I want most just now.”

Stephen moans helplessly as Tony rocks, rubbing his hole against the straining length of Stephen cock. He’s dripping with slick already. Tony lifts up and positions himself, then slowly eases down, taking Stephen’s cock into the hot clutch of his body. “Tony,” Stephen gasps. It’s so much, so good. He rests his hands on Tony’s thighs where they’re spread astride him. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Tony says, breathless, his hole clenching around Stephen as he adjusts. “God, you’re just perfect, exactly what I needed.”

Pride rushes through Stephen and he watches, rapt, as Tony slowly eases himself up and then lets himself sink down again, faster and faster. His knot is throbbing already, and every time Tony’s wet rim kisses the edge of it, it tears a keen of sheer need out of Stephen. “Tony, please,” Stephen begs, “please let me knot you, please, I’ll be so good, I swear it.”

“I know you will,” Tony says, chest heaving for breath as he works himself up and down Stephen’s cock, his thighs bunching and releasing under Stephen’s hands. “Just a little more.”

Stephen groans but holds on, his world narrowing to the ache of his knot and the pure bliss shining out of Tony’s expression. He loses all sense of time; it could be a minute or an hour before Tony catches his gaze, smiles, and says, “Here we go, baby.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Stephen says, his voice breaking as Tony presses down, his body stretching inexorably, until finally Stephen’s knot slides into him. Tony shouts with completion, grinding down into the fullness of the tie as his orgasm tears through him, and Stephen’s eyes roll back, his breath caught in his throat as he comes, too. His knot swells just that last bit more and he comes in great spurts, hot and thick and so, so good.

Stephen blinks as he slowly comes back to himself, eventually focusing enough to take in the truly delicious sight of Tony still sitting astride him, Stephen’s knot buried deep and firmly tied. A satisfaction so deep it’s almost smug radiates from Tony. “You are incredible,” Stephen murmurs.

Tony chuckles. “I think that’s my line.”

“Hmmm. Well, we’re certainly incredible together,” Stephen, bouncing his hips just enough to jostle Tony. They both catch their breath.

“Be careful what you invite there,” Tony says, grinning.

Stephen grins back. 

Neither of them have ever particularly cared for careful.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

RECYCLING /REPURPOSING

I've been sitting for days on the recycling concept of these 2 mirroring scenes this fucking SOB Storer planted there in plain sight for us.

I hated the Carmy scene soooooo much that I was blocked. So I postponed analyzing it all together. Till today.

I couldn't believe Storer fucked up soooooooo much.

CARMY'S VERSION:

Carmy sounds completely OC, who wrote this?!?!?!

He's talking nonsense. As if the entire S2 never existed, as if his realization during the panic attack never happened, and as if all the things we all know he feels for Syd were never there, as if Braciole never happened either, is a complete OVERWRITTING OF THE CHARACTER! He sounded as if a whole new team of rookie writers came in and wrote this P.O.S. scene on their first day on the job and then Storer signed off on it and shot it, with the money I pay HULUUUUUUUUUUUUU every month!

I figured: "It has to be on purpose! This can't be THIS BAD, it has to be good like deep deep down, and I'm fucking missing it."

Well... turns out I was missing the PURPOSE. Or the re-purposing, I should say.

Carmy, with the help of the other 2 clowns that were absolutely unnecessary but had a point bc let's face it, he shoulda sent a SO SORRY text as soon as he got out of the walk-in and he didn't do it not only bc he's an avoidant asshole and didn't get Syd's clearance that put his priorities in order, which he took as the perfect excuse to AVOID taking responsibility, was trying to re-purpose Claire, but here's the catch→ HE FAILED. He gave up on her.

Eventually, we saw all of that giving up on her altogether attitude in a more apparent way, yet still quite symbolical, too symbolical if you ask me, in the freezer in 03x09, he took his time, he doubted, and to me, that was a huge statement so I dedicated that moment alone several posts already:

Syd's version:

Syd, on the other hand, all by herself, like the independent G woman she is, is in the dumpster:

Also recycling the fucking cardboard boxes that those 2 clowns SHOULD HAVE TAKEN CARE OF as if she had any fucking free time to on top of EVERYTHING SHE ALREADY DOES AT THE RESTAURANT and had to also recycle because the fucking Faks fucked up and failed to do their fucking job! Completely different energy than the "boys talk" the 3 other idiots had in the dumpster while calling the MPDG "peace"/piece of ass.

So she is in the middle of trying and failing (that’s why she didn’t sign the agreement that day either even though Nat urged her to) to recycle her whole purpose of being there, working at The Bear, because it's obviously not turning out to be what she expected or wanted, she's masking the disappointment she really feels with anger and frustration because the partner she trusted last season in, to make sure this didn't blow up in her face like last time, should be RECYCLED ASAP:

So Syd is in the process of losing and having to recycle her purpose to stick around, which is obviously what the Jocker's offer triggered in her but was simmering under the surface since even way before he tried to poach her.

She's in the middle of a purpose crisis too, but totally different than Carmy's.

Parallels:

His crisis has to do with his feelings for a girl he can't make himself love and has decided to leave behind, knowing where that may take him down the line → UNSTUCK FROM HER MUD WITH ALL THE IMPLICATIONS THAT HAS IN REGARDS TO OTHER FEELINGS HE DOESNT WANNA FEEL, which I went over HERE.

Syd's repurposing crisis has to do with: CARMY and whether or not she's gonna keep on giving him more chances, whether or not she should stick by his side, because this, as it is, is just not working for her. But that doesn't mean she thinks Shapiro will work. It means she wishes her disappointment didn't exist, not that she wants to continue taking chances on chefs and risking getting burned AGAIN. That's her crisis. That's why she's losing purpose now, this is her current DUMPSTER CRISIS. The only piece of ass she's thinking about is Carmy’s and she has to re-purpose their entire relationship, which the Joker/trickster Shapiro brought up to the forefront of her mind in that ep. The same ep where we learned about Legerdemain

It's all about:

Or more like... lack thereof.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[flamboyant-king]

I'm trying to write out passing conversations/mundane moments that would fill in the days of Cammy and Harvey, because it's the little things that make up life. So here's what one day would be like, maybe it's nothing, but to them, it's everything.

(Harvey wakes up from a nightmare early morning and Cammy senses it from outside. Cammy flies into Harveys room to comfort him, transforming into their human form for maximum hug-ability)

Harv: It's happening...Camellia...

Cammy: (holds his hand)

Harv: Help me...come back...

Cammy: Do you remember what we did yesterday?

Harv: We were on a walk...you talked to a bird...

Cammy: Do you remember the kind of bird?

Harv: A blue one...which is different...I usually only see sparrows or...robins around here...haven't seen a crow in a while...

Cammy: What did the blue bird say?

Harv: Tweet?

Cammy: Oh, right. (Giggles)

Harv: Hehe...

Cammy: (caresses Harv's hand) The bird said an old man was giving her nice oats in the morning because she looked beautiful. But she looked beautiful all the time, so the man gave her oats every morning.

Harv: That's nice...do birds have teeth?

Cammy: I don't think they do.

Harv: We'll have to look that up later...

Cammy: In the bird's mouth?

Harv: (chuckle) No, like on the Internet.

Cammy: Oh, right. (giggles)

Harv: Thank you, Camellia. I think I'm getting there.

Cammy: Does that mean I can hug you now?

Harv: Not yet. Let's talk more.

Cammy: Are there any birds you used to see in the Philippines?

Harv: Ah...My family used to raise a couple chickens...they used to wake us up in the morning...I don't remember what happened to them. They either got stolen or we ate them.

Cammy: Huh!?

Harv: From what I remember...there used to be deadly cock fights where...they'd put the chickens against each other...stick blades to their feet and let them--

Cammy: Harveeeeyyy...

Harvey: Sorry...

(Harvey hugs Cammy in apology, but he needed that hug too. After holding the moment, Harvey assures Cammy he's alright and Cammy leaves through the bedroom door. Harvey does his morning routine and makes his way downstairs)

Cammy: The sky is clear and it looks very hot out, Harvey, perfect for lemonade and macarons! (Opens the sliding door)

Harv: We can take a few lemons...from the next neighborhood...

Cammy: Harveeeey, we can't just steal lemons, you told me not to do that!

Harv: They won't miss a couple lemo--

Cammy: EEP!

Harv: What?

Cammy: Someone fell on my head.

Harv: (takes a peek) Ah, it's a lizard...

Cammy: Oh dear, I hope they don't get stuck in there.

Harv: I got you. (Tries to pull out the lizard. The lizard crawls deeper into cammy's floof)

Cammy: That tickles, teehee~

Harv: Your hair is a forest of tangles...

Cammy: Its not tangles! It's curly! Ow!

Harv: My hand got stuck...(The lizard crawls out of Cammy's hair and onto Harv's arm) but the lizard is unstuck.

Cammy: That's good!

Harv: Camellia, would you like me to... comb your hair?

Cammy: Huh? Really? That's so nice of you~ Will you tell me any stories you have about lizards.

Harv: Here's one thing... (frees his hand from Cammy's hair) In the Philippines, we call them butiki. They would be all over...the inside of our house. (The lizard crawls off Harv's arm and onto the ground) I remember I would catch them...and put them outside.

Cammy: That's so nice of you~

Harvey: One time, I saw one fall into...our air conditioner...I heard many thumps and a whine...I think it died in there...

Cammy: Um-

Harvey: In the living room...we had a ceiling fan...and I remember sitting there and a few lizards crawled...onto the fan...so I turned on the fan...and watched them go flying.

Cammy: Harveeeeeyyyy...

Harvey: Sorry...I'll go grab a brush...sit right here.

Cammy: Grab some macarons too. (Lizard climbs onto cammy's arm)

Cammy: For me and the lizard. (A second lizard falls on cammy's head.)

Cammy: EEP!

(Harvey and cambly sitting on the back "porch", Harvey combing Cammy's hair with his fingers because the brush was hurting cammy's head.)

Harv: Your hair must be really long... if we straightened it.

Cammy: I don't know how you'd straighten it. It's naturally curly.

Harv: There's this heating device that...people use to flatten out hair so it's not...curly.

Cammy: I like my curly hair.

Harv: Your tangled hair?

Cammy: No, it's noooot.

Harv: Heh. Your hair is really soft... I don't really see you shower.

Cammy: Huh?

Harv: I mean, I'm not watching, but...do you use soap?

Cammy: Are you saying I'm smelly?

Harv: No, no. I'm just wondering cause...I thought soap is a human thing.

Cammy: I use oils and I bathe in my fairy form since it would take up less water and oil!

Harv: Makes sense. Oil really helps get rid of tangles...so I don't see why you have so many tangles.

Cammy: Harveeeeyyy!

Harv: Sorry, sorry.

Cammy: I like you messing with my hair, though. It's nice and calming on a beautiful day like this~

Harv: That's good. You can...mess with my hair later...if you want.

(a peaceful hour passes by)

Harv: The tangles are mostly gone...your hair is still curly.

Cammy: (bounces) Thank you Harvey, now it's my turn!

Harv: Okay...

Cammy: (stands up and kneels behind Harvey) Teehee, your hair is so soft.

Harv: Try not to get crumbs in there.

Cammy: I'm cleeean~ Your hair is as fluffy as mine~

Harv: That's surprising...I did shower this morning.

Cammy: Smells nice too~

Harv: Thanks...I was thinking I need to cut my hair soon...but not so short like when I was...

Cammy: Maybe a trim, so it's not so messy, but maybe just combing it back would make it more neat! (Pushes his hair back and looks at his face) See! Handsome~

Harv: Heh...I think I grew out my bangs to try and cover my scar...it's not like...a big deal now but I think unconsciously...that's what I did, but also just got lazy to take care of myself.

Cammy: If you ever find it hard to care for yourself, I'll take care of you. (Looks into Harvey's eyes and smiles)

Harv: ... (Harvey gazes back)

Harv: And I'll do the same for you.

(A lizard falls on Harvey's head)

Cammy: EEP!

(time passes, they tend to the garden, and come back home after a quick walk in the park)

Cammy: A beautiful day followed by a beautiful night!

Harv: It's late night barbeque weather.

Cammy: This sounds like it has a story attached~ Oh! (A firefly hovers by Cammy) A lightning bug!

Harv: I call them fireflies. Those little guys are a sign...of a true summer's eve.

Cammy: Hm~

(Enjoying the silence and the occasional firefly glimmer)

Harv: I believe it was high school...we would have parties at Tito and Tita's house...the backyard was big...enough for Eli to run around and stuff. The campfire and grill smoke kept the bugs away...from the food. But the front yard...that's where all the fireflies were. They were the only thing that lit up the yard...other than the stars. It felt like I was in the sky with the stars. (A firefly lands on Harvey's sleeve) It was magical.

Cammy: There is magic everywhere, Harvey. (Smiles)

Harv: Yeah...We tried catching the fireflies in plastic cups...just to see them up close. (The firefly leaves Harvey's sleeve.) But like always, the magic never lasts. (The firefly lands in cammy's hand.)

Cammy: Hello. (Cammy whispers to the firefly before it flies off.)

Harv: What did it say?

Cammy: It said "just one moment."

(More fireflies enter their backyard. Landing on the leaves of various plants, some land on cammy's hair and Harvey's shirt.)

Harv: I see now...

Cammy: I hope you don't try catching these ones, they were nice enough to show off.

Harv: Nah...some magic can't be contained.

Cammy: They can be if you have a really good jar. I should know, I've been in a few of them, teehee~

~~~

I wanted to draw this but ya know how it is with me, so it shall stay as words for now. I would love to see the firefly scene drawn out, but maybe one day~

[s-che]

The Dream Library: Apocalypse World 2

The Dream Library had our second Apocalypse World one-shot earlier this week, ending out the end of a month of talking about D. Vincent and Meguey Baker’s game of high octane apocalyptica. Next month, we'll be continuing our semester of PBTA one-shots and book-club discussions with two excellent historical games: Night Witches and Sagas of the Icelanders.

If you'd like to get in on the discussion and maybe even sign up for a one-shot, shoot me a message -- we'd love to have you.

As with the last play report, I want to open by making two things absolutely clear:

Apocalypse World is a sicknasty game that deserves to get played way more often than it does, especially by people who are working and playing in a design lineage which has been forever altered by Meg and Vincent’s work.

Apocalypse World is a game done absolutely dirty by short-term play, a fact which came out way harder in this session than it did the first time round. We had a ton of fun, of course — but the fact that our play was capped at the 3-hour mark meant we barely scratched the surface of what this game can do. 

This time, I ran the game following Vincent Baker’s advice on running Apocalypse World in a con slot, which helped a lot — and still didn’t scratch the itch I have to play this game and only this game for the next hundred or so years. Most notably, we ended up dividing play into two micro-sessions — meaning we got to turn our bio-break into a narrative breather as well and flex some of the game’s “long-term” rules. I’ve broken my thoughts up here by session, which felt appropriate.

Session 1: A Desert Landscape

I had no idea where the session was going to start when we settled down to play — beyond the fact that I was going to open in media res with someone (the answer ended up being my first volunteer, @tormentedbyvisions) in a very bad spot. Details came quickly when we looked for them — a collapsing office tower and glimpses of a desert landscape out the broken windows, dotted with more towers in the distance. Goldman (The Savvyhead, any pronouns), an elderly survivor who, as it turned out, loved nothing more than telling people lies about the world as it was, is cornered on the second floor as a gang headed by a warlord named Dremmer picked their way through the rubble below. Cut forward a few seconds and we have Goldman leaping from a hole in the wall to land on the dune below as Dremmer’s gang fire wildly at a phantom drawn from the psychic maelstrom.

Meanwhile James (The Driver, he/him) and October (The Skinner, they/them) raced along the desert highway looking for their friend. A bad role lead to an ambush, a flipped car, and a surprisingly civil conversation with a would-be raider named Jackabacka — who James enlisted to get the car unstuck and then left unconscious in a ditch. Meeting back up with Goldman — a little battered from his fall from the building, but mostly fine — the game headed back to their home: the outskirts of an oil-refining city which sprang into existence at the moment we needed it, and never before. We wrapped on our first microsession by developing character Hx and nailing down who all these people were to each other.

What did we learn? For one, Apocalypse World is a great game to make shit up in. I talked at length in my last session write-up about the instruction to “barf forth apocalyptica” and how good getting really in the juice of a genre feels, but there’s more than just that happening here. Apocalypse World has a deeper philosophy of storytelling and play (one related, I think, to what I called “fluid mapmaking” in a recent article) which really relishes in moments of hesitation and consideration. There’s an approach to play which some games and players take where “good improv” is ultimately about maximal flexibility — where the ultimate end is to hide the fact that you’re “making things up” at all, and make the game world seem as fully realized as possible. Improv is just a way to get there — since we cannot possibly have prepped for every occasion, improv fills in the gaps. The hyper-performative role of the GM is never permitted to ask for a second to think or talk through some ideas out loud (in the way a non-GM player might) — their role is a kind of computer-referee (a “stable,” as opposed to fluid, mapmaker) who presents only the truth.

Apocalypse World bucks this trend in several ways: in the way moves prompt big narrative swings, in the suggestion you spend session one just following the characters around and seeing what happens, in the MC philosophy (to “always say what your prep demands,” yes, but also to “barf forth apocalyptica,” to “ask provocative questions and build on the answers,” and to “sometimes, disclaim decision-making), and also (and perhaps most importantly) in the “umms” and “hmms” which permeate the play examples. Apocalypse World is a game which is invested in modeling collaborative — really collaborative — play and which, as a result, never felt like a burden or a trap. It felt like my players and I were all together mapping and remapping a world with the tools and toys the Bakers had given us (and what lovely tools and toys they are) but never restricted by the thing we were trying to make. It felt like we were playing. 

On another note about the first session — and this isn’t textual to Apocalypse Worlds, but to Vincent’s con-running method, but — the practice of giving players something to do (in this case, filling out the details of their character sheets) while the narrative spotlight is on others is one of those design ideas that, once you’re exposed to it, you’ll never forget. This is something I’ve seen others to — most recently (and extensively) @jdragsky's Seven Part Pact is a game that does this over and over and over again — but it really hit me in this session what a lifesaver it is. Especially in online games, where losing focus and energy is so easy, giving people something to do which keeps them invested in the game (in the way, in person, just being in a space together might) is the kind of thing I’m going to start putting in all my games. 

Session 2: Lord Terry’s Gasland Refinery

Back from a brief break, I introduced the players to the threat map I’d designed while they were away. It was populated, mostly, by people we’d already talked a little bit about — the refinery where they lived, Dremmer’s Gang in the north, the landscape of the desert highway all around them — plus a couple of strange details thrown in for good measure (at the last minute, I decided to add the Red Priory, the setting of the last oneshot I ran, on the map in the far east — a fact which I could talk about for hours. People need to play Apocalypse World with me west marches style PLEASE). 

Jumping back into the swing of play wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped — the result, I think, of breaking up the session like we did meant we needed to do the usual beginning of session dipping our toes in the water again, but this time with a much sharper awareness of the ticking clock. Still, we got somewhere — thanks in no small part to the fun of just bopping around with these characters. It’s rare that you get to say “okay, now it’s a week later. What has that week looked like?” especially in the context of a oneshot. The cost of starting a session to the players — okay, what has your life looked like? how much barter are you losing to afford that? — quickly transformed what had been a pretty generic setting into a place that had some teeth. Barfing forth apocalyptica — and some yes-anding with the players — gave us Lord Terry, a feudal tyrant whose authority rests (shakily) on the loyalty of his retained soldiers and the terror of the serfs (including our players). 

Truthfully, we didn’t get particularly far in this session: some tinkering in Goldman’s workshop, an argument with Terry, a scouting mission which ended in a tense standoff with Jackabacka, and then a race back home as October washed Jackabacka’s blood off their knife and James bled out in the backseat. I don’t think the “plottiness” of the session got anywhere — but that has also maybe never felt like less of the point. The joy of our second session was absolutely frontloaded — in the moments of thinking about the community to which we (tangentially) belonged and the powers that be, there. 

Apocalypse World tells you it is best played in a long campaign — and I think this was the moment it was most clearly right. I would love to tell you what happens next to James, or whether Lord Terry is going to be dethroned, or if Dremmer’s really the threat he seems to be. None of those are questions I thought I’d be asking, going into this session — they’re questions the game gave me over the course of play. We had some hiccups, of course (combat is brutal when you don’t have a medic, and I wish, in retrospect, that I’d pushed players to read people more often), but on the whole Apocalypse World is a marvelous engine for generating a really collaborative story.

Which makes me ask, like I did last time — what the fuck happened? People talk a lot about PBTA as a philosophy and not just a mechanic — but I think at some point in history that philosophy seems to have fallen out and gotten slimmed down to "PBTA is when 2d6+"

This isn't to say there aren't good PBTA games being written now — we'll be playing some of them in this unit — but, GOD. There is shit in this game that, hearing it from downstream, you would never know about. People should know about it! You, right now, should know about it! Go and play Apocalypse World right now! and also forever!!

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy August! I've decided to start a monthly fic rec and what a better way than with all the lovely fics I've read in July!

Victorian Boy by audreyhheart / @audreyhheart [101k]

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by alwaysxlarrie / @alwaysxlarrie [98k]

Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it. What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. A Cinderella AU.

fondre ton absence by scrunchyharry / @scrunchyharry [41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him. It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life. When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died. Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in. He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere [31k]

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said. Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade. “I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said. OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

come on jump out at me by yoursongonmyheart / @yoursongonmyheart [28k]

“you know, i offered for you to fake out me, but, i don’t know anything about you other than you being my biggest celebrity crush probably since posh spice.” louis almost chokes on his chicken, “jesus christ,” he sputters. harry takes a swig of his beer with a smirk. “i was very disappointed when you didn’t say i was your celebrity crush after you came out.” louis almost cries. “you know i did plan on it. then i ran into you narrating taking a piss and talking about my ass and i thought ‘wow this kid does talk some shit’ and decided against it.” harry barks out a laugh, his ears tinged red. he takes a bite of his pizza. “i suppose i do have no filter while high.” louis rolls his eyes, “bit of an understatement, mate.” harry giggles, “whatever pal,” louis screams internally. Or, the one where actor louis tomlinson and one direction superstar harry styles try to fake a sex tape to help harry get out of the closet and they both get more than they bargained for.

Unbonded by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [24k]

“Look,” Louis says firmly. “Last time I checked, I’m still the pack leader, so you damn well better listen to me. It was Harry who worked out what I’d been poisoned with, then nursed me back to health. And it was Harry who thwarted the plan for my second assassination attempt by literally throwing himself in front of an arrow intended for me, nearly dying in the process, which is why we’re even having this argument in the first place. So if you think I’m going to set foot outside of this hut until he’s fully healed, you’ve all seriously misread the situation, and even more importantly, you’ve all seriously misread me.” OR the one where Harry is an omega who has been cast out from his pack, Louis is the alpha leader of the pack where Harry finds a new home, Liam is an alpha with heart of gold, and Niall is a cook who can't seem to stop setting himself on fire.

The Capillaries In My Eyes Are Bursting by 5secsoflarry [14k]

Two armoured palace guards stand there, speaking with the old, widowed beta. Harry watches curiously from the space in the back, ducking down a little in an attempt to hide. There have been whispers through the town of omegas being gathered and forced to the castle all week long - something about the King being ill - but Harry had thought they were only rumours….. OR Medieval times where King Louis is in a near death accident and enters a coma. The royal doctor says they have two weeks to find Louis’ true soulmate (omega) or he dies.

oh so familiar by InsightfulInsomniac / @insightfulinsomniac [13k]

When Harry transferred to the University of Mestonwood, he hoped that he'd finally fit in. As a witch, he's much less likely to feel isolated on an entirely supernatural campus, right? Wrong. Thanks to the cold-shoulder efforts of Louis Tomlinson, president of the vampire Coven, Harry still feels the sting of rejection from the most gorgeous boy on campus. It's doubly frustrating that everyone else, even Harry's only close friend, Niall, seems to think Louis is a great guy. Harry vows to actively ignore Louis in return, but his plans are foiled when his familiar, Oli, starts turning off their telepathic connection during Harry's classes. It doesn't take long for Harry to find out where Oli is disappearing to - or, rather, who he is disappearing to. A story of misguided enemies to lovers brought together by a stubborn orange tabby.

Little Dove (Series) by littleroverlouis / @littleroverlouis [11k]

I Can Be Your Vice (Pt.1) It could be his innate flight or fight instincts kicking in. His predator is closing in and he is the prey. Fear would be a rational response. After all, there is a centuries old vampire standing directly behind him. “You’re ahead of schedule, Louis.” Or Harry and Louis are FWBB (friends with bloodsucking benefits)

With Just One Look (Pt.2 prequel to Pt.1) There is no way Harry is over twenty-one. Louis would bet his right fang on it. He has an air of purity and exuberance towards strangers that is generally worn away with age and life experience. Louis has not received such a sunny greeting, bar from some golden retrievers in his neighborhood, in decades. Harry is a precious little dove. Louis feels guilty. Almost. Or Louis meets Harry at a club and wants to suck him dry.

This Is Not the End (Pt.3) “Little dove, could you please come here for a moment? You gotta help me, I’m losing my mind.” It is hard being a ‘little dove’ when you’re fifty-eight years old. Harry will always be Louis’ little dove, but it makes him chuckle as he swallows down his daily Centrum Silver multivitamin. The nickname came into his life as a wide eyed, innocent eighteen year old, along with the love of his life. He wonders, could he still refer to Louis as the love of his life when he joins him as the undead? Or Louis finally turns Harry into a vampire.

so pull me closer, why don’t you pull me close? by alwaysxlarrie / @alwaysxlarrie [9.9k]

If you ask Harry, baking and soccer go together like chocolate and cheese -- which is to say, they really, really don't. But maybe that's just because he’s less than thrilled about the lousy sous-chef partner he got paired with, Simon. If the captain of the soccer team wants to substitute players and be Harry's partner instead... well, Harry's lemons just turned into lemon meringue pie. Who is he to argue with fate?

Standing On the Edge of Falling by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation [5.8k]

“There’s a bit of a situation in one of the tenting areas, and you two are the perfect people to handle it.” “Get on with it, then.” “Some fucker’s brought a whole TV in and is streaming the England/Slovakia game. A whole crowd’s gathered, over a hundred people, at least, and it’s blocking walkways between the tents. I need you two to go shut it down.” ~~~ It’s Harry’s first security gig, and somehow, he landed Glastonbury. Unfortunately, he’s been tasked with telling a very gorgeous man that he can’t stream the football match. Things go … much better than expected.

Scared That My Worst is the Best That I’ve Got by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [5k]

So while Louis’ proposition is preposterous, it’s also the only compromise his brain seems willing to make at the moment. Harry slowly raises his head to look at Louis. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen, elbow resting casually on the edge of the counter next to the sink. His expression is soft and patient, and there’s delicate morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows behind him, setting his outlined silhouette aglow. He looks like an angel. An angel in an old oversized adidas jumper with tattoos on his knuckles, but an angel all the same. Harry’s voice comes out mumbled and much smaller than he’d like, but it is what it is. As Louis always says. “Just shampoo?” (Or five times Louis saves Harry from himself, and one time when Louis is the one that needs the saving).

we could be enough by HelloLovers13 / @hellolovers13 [5k]

“You know I am flirting with you, right?” Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak. Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?” or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is. Then he meets Harry.

Rapture by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 [3.2k]

It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night. Or, a vampire Harry fic because what says the holidays like Victorian vampires?

Lights Are So Bright by QuickedWeen /@becomeawendybird [2.1k]

Newly first-string quarterback Louis Tomlinson mentions enough times in interviews that he's a fan of mega-famous popstar Harry Styles that people start to notice. At least one person does...

This was really fun to make and I'll do my best to keep monthly recs on some kind of a schedule, probably will be the first week of the next month.

Happy reading everyone!