#the poor girl is SIXTEEN!!!!

[laytontheories]

This is one of my favourite images from the credits of Eternal Diva:

When we first meet Amelia, she acts cold and distant. She isn't interested in helping others and even chastises Luke on the boat. Some might assume she's rude or stuck up.

But when she is kidnapped by Descole, we see her cold facade crack. Her grandfather is dying and she wants to give the Eternal Life to him. Amelia literally entered a game where she herself could die so she wouldn't lose her grandfather. In that moment we suddenly see who she really is: a scared child who would do anything for her loved ones.

However, during the credits we see this image. It shows that Amelia's grandfather has indeed passed away. There is a chess piece next to his grave, suggesting that he was the one to teach her the game.

But Amelia isn't sad. She's smiling, probably thinking of the good memories they had together. Maybe watching Janice say goodbye to Melina made her realise that she will never lose him, as long as she remembers him.

It's a bittersweet, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, but it helps add closure to Amelia's character.

But the other reason why I love the image is Layton and Luke in the background.

"Uhhhhhh. Why are we here Professor? We barely know this girl."

"Because Luke; a true gentleman must always attend to the needs of a lady. Even when he doesn't remember her name."

[deva-arts]

Happy Birthday, Vincent! Where did all the years go?

For the first time in my life, I looked at the people surrounding me and felt nothing but mirth. Ease. Restful, ambrosian peace. It's shockingly foreign. Warms the chest. Stings the eyes. I hope this feeling lasts forever. I capture every detail, dissecting each millisecond that passes, sense by sense. The air on my skin, and the scraps of sunlight hitting me. The way the room looks, and the looks in their faces, their eyes. The different laughs and conversations, some even praising me, offering good wishes. The sweetness from foods I never would have received, and the smooth scent of a home. One that's been lived in and cared about. I want to remember it. Engrave it somewhere deep and secret, so I can always return and find the same sights, smells and sounds. If I can't have that, then I hope it lasts a little longer, at least.

+ Close-ups!

Yeah. Just a little longer.

[fruitlicense]

I’m an episode and a half into Smallville and a) statistically Lana Lang can’t be the only girl in town that people want to date, what the hell and b) everyone is acting like this is so high-stakes but it’s literally high school couples. they all need to calm down. Clark is actually one of the chiller people but he’s so sad about it? like it’s okay honey, you’ll meet more hot people after you get your journalism degree

[julietwiskey1]

Azula’s bangs are still lopsided from how she cut them during her mental breakdown. Or at least I believe that this is a deliberate reference to it.

I think these hairs are ones that were in her top knot at the time. But the difference in length matches what she did when she chopped them off. And they are too different in length and consistent between the pictures for it to be accidental.

[melodydiner]

TAGS.

[loveinsomesacredplace]

Is it true? Are people coming around to the fact that Show Belly is a different character from Book Belly? Has critical thinking finally entered the chat? *gasps in transformative fandom/show canon enthusiast*

[yameoto]

caitvi fuckgirls x virgin!reader

femmepussy (cait) + butchcock (vi) = deflowering you

tw; sorority!caitlyn & fratbro!vi bc i succumbed to lust, virgin!reader, voyeurism, masturbation, pussyeating, pussyfucking, praise, mild agegap (senior!caitvi x freshman!reader). wc; 2.2k

they’re no strangers to bringing girls home. they’ve refined it to an art. or at least, caitlyn has. vi is still prone to flash a wink with a drink clasped in hand, and a sleazy (though it looks more sultry, on her), “my girlfriend and i saw you from across the bar, and..” when she’s feeling real lazy.

it still works, of course. of course it does. who wouldn’t want to get in-between the most legendary couple on campus? fraternity president and sorority president, all at once—college politics aside—it’s anybody’s wet dream.

tonight, it’s your turn. if the two pairs of hands wandering up your body downstairs, we’re anything to go by—and the matching smirks curving their lips as you were led gently away from the party and into one of the rooms above (door, plastered with a VI, to leave no room for argument. the frathouse always did throw the grandest ragers).

caitlyn leans against the doorway, tongue prodding the inside of her cheek as she eyes down the both of you, shamelessly. the room is plastered with posters you think your dad might've liked when he was sixteen, and countless football trophies and college memorabilia. not that analysing vi's room decor is exactly what's on your mind, right now—not when you're splayed back in the middle of a double-size bed, sheets crumpled under you, with aforementioned room owner sprawled in the space between your legs, her girlfriend steadily approaching, from the side.

"shit. you're just a lil' baby, huh?" vi's eyes are lidded as she plays with the hem of your shorts, pink hair all ruffled. her big hands swallow the span of your thighs, and she grins, lazy, at the sight.

"vi. don't be crass," caitlyn chastises, like her gaze isn't practically stripping you down with laser-focus. she honest to god licks her lips; because—who wouldn’t? pretty girl on a pretty girl, laid out like a pair of perfect presents, upon the bed. "you'll scare the poor girl."

"oh, c'mon, cait." vi grins, "i know the thought of defiling a freshie gets you wetter than a supersoaker."

this is all moving so fucking fast, you almost feel dizzy. can't breathe, because—well—holy fucking shit. as if your ramping discomfort is sensed, a calloused hand rests on your shoulder, and the tension melts away.

"you can't get better than us," vi soothes, in her smug, infinite wisdom. "just relax, sweetheart. we'll take good care of you." her hands are already snaking under, before a little tutting noise halts her movements. vi's head snaps up, like a puppy to a clicker, the beginnings of a despairing frown marring her pretty features. caitlyn’s smirk is gloating.

"take an off-side, darling. i found this one, first."

vi's jaw drops, shooting upwards in incredulity. "what? but—"

caitlyn shoots her girlfriend a sharp warning glare that sends a jolt of lighting straight to your cunt, and vi wilts like a curling petal, sulking all the way to the couch on the opposite-end to the bed. she collapses, legs swinging wide in the most egregiously delectable manspread of all time. the position shows off the most insane boner you've ever had the pleasure of seeing. the tent spears upwards like a fucking skyscraper, towering up at the crotch of vi's jeans as it's if attempting to burst free from its restraints.

then, vi's fly comes loose, and the veined girth of her cock slaps out in all its glory, bouncing against her toned abdomen and smearing a trail of slick behind. thick, hot-pink hairs crawl upwards from its base to just under her belly button. the aftermath of pre-cum glosses over locks, glistening under the dim lights.

oh, god. this is better than porn.

"see that? that's all for you." caitlyn purrs, and the red flushes to the tips of your ears, blood roaring. you don't even realise you've let out a whine, thighs shifting subconsciously, when vi grunts out a low, "fuck," and palms her dick.

caitlyn's tongue wraps around the swollen nub of your clit, and all of a sudden, you know exactly why people say caitlyn's tongue is like silver. she works, languidly, at first. heat licks up your thighs, and out of the blurry corners of your vision, you can see vi's hand wrap around her cock. caitlyn laves up the nooks and crannies of your folds in little flicks, gaze gossamer as the ferocity of her eyes pin you down.

plush lips barely graze your cunt, and humiliatingly, a garbled moan wrenches from your throat, body snapping taut with the force of an elastic band, caitlyn freezes, and you're made intimately aware of just how wet you are, and you've done nothing but squirm a little as they simply take their positions.

"don't be embarrassed, lovely," cailyn laughs, when your thighs quiver like they're about to squeeze shut—keeping you spread open, with the press of a palm, nails grazing up your abdomen. "it's flattering."

what caitlyn finds, in the first fifteen seconds of eating you out, is that you are extremely fucking sensitive. by the nth jerk of the knee, and those delicious, strangled whimpers that stream out of your pretty panting mouth; she has to ask.

"is this your first time?”

"why?" your hands are fisted into the sheets, knuckles bled white. "is it bad? am i bein’ bad?”

oh, caitlyn's always been a sucker for the whimpering type.

“no, darling,” she coos, nosing up the wet headiness of your pussy, pupils edging out the sharp, cerulean blue of her irises because, oh, she can’t let you realise just how wet you’ve just made her. a virgin. she can feel her already-damp panties, become renewed with a gush of slick as she slides her hands up your thighs, groin subtly grinding through her clothes and against the edge of the mattress because—fuck.

"fuck, i'm so hard," vi whines, a little desperate as she makes the widest puppy-eyes from the sofa, cock drooping in her hand as it pumps out an insane amount of pre like it's nobody's business. her knee has been jostling up and down like it's about to jackhammer a hole in the carpet. she's teetering on the precipice of simply exploding all over the two of you, eyes glazed over as her teeth grit in the effort to restrain herself. because if she cums; caitlyn won't let her fuck you, and call it the alcohol, her dick, or pure, dumb horniness; but there is literally nothing she wants more on this earth, right now—than to bury her cock inside of you and fuck you to oblivion.

caitlyn, however, is playing your pretty virgin pussy like a fiddle. you thrash, back, on the sheets, slew of broken moans torn from your lips. she’s drunk on lust. god, the way you tremble under her, bundle of nerves reacting to each and every one of her barest licks with the harshest gasps or clamp of your thighs. you’d have her wrapped in a headlock, by now, if it weren’t for the force in which she’s a splayed you open—right for vi’s prying eyes, as the older girl furiously fists her cock, frustration burning in her gut at being forced to only look, but barred to touch.

"cupcake," vi pleads, as both you and caitlyn's gazes turn on her. yours, baleful and uncomprehending, hips canting uselessly to chase after caitlyn's retreating mouth. she hushes your whimper (but coos all the same).

"i'm dyin', here," vi moans, and with the flushed tint of her cheeks and sweat glistening in the creased furrows of her brow; hand quivering around her dick—she almost looks like she is. caitlyn laughs, and your pussy throbs when hot breath gusts against your clit.

caitlyn sighs, exaggerated. the both of you can see the smug glint to her eyes, at the way she's worked both her babies, up. (and what a slip of the mind, that is? not an hour in the bedroom, and she's already calling you her baby. their baby.) she lifts up from between your legs, with one last kiss planted directly onto the deliciously glossy wetness of your swollen clit (yes, you shake), before coaxing vi forwards.

vi lunges forwards, like a starved lion thrown it's first scrap of meat, and suddenly the silken fingers dragging up your thighs and the soft lips kissing teasingly along your folds—is replaced by a desperate, fervid nuzzling and slobbering, as vi mouths desperately up your legs.

"i gotta—" she mumbles into your cunt, hands spreading you so wide they almost hurt. "i need—baby—please. i gotta be in you. i gotta— y'pussy smells so good. looks so pretty an' wet an'—" her growls are practically gibberish. caitlyn snorts. she, too, is partial to seeing vi a drooling mess.

you don't have much mental space, to do more than nod, heart thudding out of your chest. distantly, you hear a groaned "fuck, yes!" from underneath you, though any further processing that (surprisingly adorable) comment—is wrenched away by the vi is clambering on top to mount you, flat of her dick sliding along your folds. you both gasp, your chest lurching upwards—before caitlyn's manicured hand pushes you right back down.

"relax," she coos, as vi's weight sinks on top of your thighs, "it'll be easier, that way." vi is practically trembling in an attempt not to just ram herself into you. her head brushes against your core, and it feels like water. vi moans, almost buckling in anticipation. "can i please—"

you think maybe caitlyn nods her head, or gives some other indication of affirmation; because you can't see anything but spinning stars in your vision the second vi pushes, into you.

you're forced to turn your head, biting into the sheets to stifle what you're sure would be screams—until caitlyn gently takes your head, and shifts it to bury between her thighs. the heat from caitlyn’s core is distracting and tempting and has you drooling, though completely useless to do anything but pant and moan and mewl, helplessly into it, as vi‘s cock plows into you with a fullness you’ve never felt before.

“careful with her, baby.”

“i’m trying,” vi huffs through gritted teeth, her own eyes burning because her head is whirling with entirely unhelpful thoughts, like, holy shit, is she the first one to use your tight little hole like this? and oh, fuck, am i good? am i hurting her? this is her first time. shit. and then, just oh, fuck.

you unravel, midway around the girth of vi's cock. you spam, upwards, mangled croon resonating up and into caitlyn’s cunt, hips bucking up and unintentionally slamming vi hilt-deep, and like a seismic chain-reaction; both of them cry out at once. vi, at the sensation of being completely sucked into the tight, wonderful clench of your pussy, submerged completely in the all-encompassing heat as your orgasm shatters your body and mind into what feels like a million little peaces. caitlyn, can't not cum, with the taste of you still glazing her tongue and the way you cry out, into the sloppy slick of her folds and reverberating to her core. it's not just that, though. it's the way you babble, squirming uselessly as your eyes roll into your head and your lashes flutter like the prettiest thing, mouth lolling open around caitlyn's creaming cunt. it takes, a moment, for the three of you to recover. vi is slumped into your chest, cock still twitching as her head kisses your burning insides. caitlyn's legs have fallen limp. it's only when they start to move, vi shakily, reluctantly, sliding out from your cunt—and caitlyn's thighs, loosening from your shoulders—that you protest.

"wait," you rasp, eyes all glossy as you peer up at them through teary lashes, and fuck, for a moment they think; jesus christ. you might just be the most precious thing in the world. "i— i wanna try." you declare, pushing up weakly on your elbows.

"you want to try?"

"wanna make you feel good," you slur, into her thighs, and unbidden, caitlyn feels a whole new gush of heat rush through and slick your pink-dusted cheeks in an entirely new type of sheen.

"..i always did like the ones with a little initiative."

and when you burrow yourself into caitlyn’s cunt, trying to mimic the motions she’d done before to get you feeling as if you were floating on cloud nine; her fingers card through your hair, and vi rocks her hips, still into you, catching her breath as she nuzzles into your collar.

“..feel so good, baby. doin’ so well.” she pants, thumb running up the curves of your body, eyes lifting to fix caitlyn with starry eyes and caitlyn can’t help but swallow, her fingers quivering as you swirl your tongue like a good little pupil and she arches her head back, satisfied “ah,” shuddering though her. and they realise, then, that they’re kind of fucking besotted.

“can we keep her?” vi murmurs, and you’re so deep in caitlyn’s pussy that you almost miss it. caitlyn’s lips curl upwards, head in a daze, as her grip tightens in your hair—loathe to let you go.

“god, please.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Logan has fun punishing you ;)

warnings: hard kink (don't like, don't read!), kinda dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, humiliation, rough sex, degradation, mean!logan, dacryphilia, crying, slight dumbification, spanking, creampie

~ last kinktober!! happy halloween! ~

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You're a sobbing mess, face pressed against the couch cushions, your arm flailing around, clutching onto anything you can hold onto. Logan's back is pressed against yours, warm and hard, as he thrusts into you. He's feral like an animal and you can feel his cock stretch you painfully wide. 

"Lo–lo," you whimper, voice small, "Can't do this anymore," you sob, tasting the saltiness of your tears as your poor pussy is abused. Logan's hands fist your hair, pushing down as he grunts. 

"Can't take it, hm? Yes, you can. You're a slut remember. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you fucking begged for when you were on your knees. Huh, you remember? Licking up my cock, staring up at me with those doe-eyes of yours," he pauses, growling, "What was it you said? You can handle it? Well, handle it then, honey."

You catch your breath, barely able to breathe as he fucks you hard. You're sobbing, unable to focus. Logan grins wolfishly, pulling you up by your hair as he leans in. His lips hit your ear and he whispers hoarsely, "We're gonna play a game now, can you do that for me?"

When you don't answer him he thrusts particularly hard.

"Yes, Logan, yes—" you whine, eyes blurry from your tears. You're staring at the wall now, trying your hardest to be good for him. His laugh in your ear makes you shiver. 

"I want you to count every thrust into your soaked pussy." You can hear his grin, "And if you miss one, I'll go even harder, do you understand me?"

You choke on a cry, not understanding why he's punishing you. You hadn't been that bratty. Logan just seems like he likes this; mocking you and making you squirm for him. He thrusts hard, hitting your cervix and you gasp. 

Apparently, the game had started because he slaps your ass. "One!" you cry, moaning loudly. You're slightly afraid your neighbors might hear you but Logan doesn't seem to care. He continues fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear and you struggle to count all his thrusts. He's so fast. His stamina is intense. 

"Four–ah–five, six, s-seven—"

"Louder. I want everyone to know how much of a slut you are." 

You cry, your body feels weak and you're happy he's holding you up because you couldn't do it yourself. Your mind goes hazy as you try and count. "thirteen, fourteen, ah—fifteen, s-sixteen—Logan—I- I can't," you sob, completely losing track and his thrusts become harder to the point that it's burning. You accept the pain, moaning louder. 

Logan's hand wraps around your jaw, groaning in your ear. "Filthy girl. Can't even listen. What am I gonna do with you? I have to teach you a lesson, huh? One your stupid little brain will understand." 

Your skin burns with embarrassment as tears prickle your eyes. His other hand roughly cups your breast and tortures your nipples. This is humiliating, being so powerless against him. You just cry softly, coming around him, body convulsing. You couldn't hold it anymore.

It just happened.  

Logan smirks. He doesn't care that you didn't ask for permission. After all, it gives him more ammunition. 

"Couldn't control yourself, honey?" 

You shake your head, tears streaming down onto his hand. He wipes his hand around your face, smearing your tears around and messing up your mascara. He chuckles.

"Please—t-too much."

Hearing your words, Logan grunts, spilling himself into your womb. He lets go, watching you fall forward again, and digs his nails into your hips. His thrusts slow, catching his breath and looking down at you. You're a complete mess; tears and snot coating your face as you lay there, completely used. Logan smirks to himself, pulling out and then plugging his cum inside you with his fingers. You whimper, too weak to squirm. 

"Keep it all in. Lose a drop and I'll make this worse for you," Logan says. The threat is empty considering he can see you're done. He's pushed you to your limit and you took it so well. Soothingly, he runs his other hand over your back. Once he's satisfied that you're keeping his cum inside, he walks over and caresses your cheek, truly wiping your tears away this time. 

"Shh," he says, kneeling next to you. You blink, eyes still hazy. He's still naked and he chuckles when you see your eyes wander downwards.

"Want more?" he teases.

You shake your head, whining. Logan laughs and kisses your head. "I know, honey. You're okay. You did so well for me," he says and strokes your hair. You sigh, relaxing in his arms as he praises you. You hum, needing more praise. Logan knows you do and he will happily oblige.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing right next to your lips, smiling into your skin. 

You're always his good girl.

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

��Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

[come-on-eat-your-own-pants]

Headcanon to make the timeline work:

The kid Caryn is holding isn't Shermie Pines, it's his son

Okay so think about it. Alex himself has said that though this baby was somewhat intended to be Shermie, it would make no sense time-wise as both he and his son would have to be fifteen or sixteen when they would become a father to get Dipper and Mabel to be the correct age.

Consider. For this theory Shermie is a few years older than Stan and Ford, which would make him about twenty to twenty-two years old when Stan gets kicked to the curb. College age. So let's say he got a little wild in college (or wherever else he is -- perhaps working his first job?) and gets some poor girl knocked up. Of course this is the seventies -- birth control and abortion are a thing, but they aren't as safe, successful and easily accessible as they are now -- so they end up keeping the baby. And Caryn, like any grandmother (source: my mother, who puts up a fight if she gets my brother's kids less than one day/night a week), occasionally looks after the kid so her son can focus on his education (or job). The kid grows up and is about thirty when Dipper and Mabel are born, which is not a very strange age to become a father in the 90s.

I mean, I suppose Shermie could be even older, meaning Caryn would be looking after the kid purely out of grandmotherly love or convenience and not necessarily to give her young parent of a son a break, but it makes more sense to me to have him be college age when he becomes a dad, for mostly one reason: Filbrick. Filbrick Pines explicitly calls Ford their "ticket out of here," which to me reads as Ford being the only son he's really actually proud of, or at least the only son he sees as being actually useful. Perhaps Shermie wasn't as much of a screw-up as Stan, but he also isn't someone Filbrick flaunts. Knocking up a girl would fit that, especially if he had to drop out of college because of it, or something like that.

An argument against this theory could be the absence of Shermie in Stan and Ford's childhood. But honestly: my oldest brother (five years older than me) wasn't that present in my childhood as well. I mean, sure, we did a lot of things together and in a way we were quite close, but we hardly ever played together other than things we did as a family, and he moved out before I even got my first period. This would actually work even better with Shermie being more than a few years older than the Stan twins, because the bigger the age gap, the less interaction there would be.

And of course Stan and Ford are twins, so it would make sense for most of their memories to be of the two of them together. They wouldn't need their older brother so much if they had each other.

Then there is the principal of their high school mentioning to Filbrick and Caryn that they have two sons, which I've seen as an argument for saying that Shermie wasn't born yet at the time (which wouldn't work in any way really because the West Coast Tech admissions team visits the next day, at the end of which this shot of Caryn with the baby is taken, and neither looks like there's been a birth in between the talk with the principal and Stanley getting kicked out). Far more likely to me is that the principal simply didn't know or care about the Stan twins' exact home situation. I mean, it's high school, how relevant is the exact amount of children in a household to a principal? He only has to deal with two, so he only mentions two.

Like, yeah, I know this theory isn't perfect, but the timeline also doesn't really make sense with having the baby be Shermie. I suddenly got this idea, and it works for me, so yeah

[thewertsearch]

JASPERSPRITE: Whats a timeline? :3 […] AC: :33 < ok imagine a long tempting strand of yarn […] AC: :33 < now imagine instead of being made of wiggly enticing stuff, its made of what lets you exist AC: :33 < and you are right at the twitching tip of it, dont you s33? […]

I like Nepeta's perspective here, that a timeline is made of 'what lets you exist'. She's saying, I think, that timelines are made out of reality - out of the firmament that distinguishes the multiverse from the Furthest Ring.

Her imagery suggests that she understands at least the basics of her world's deeper mechanics, despite not actually using this knowledge during her time on-panel. I would have liked to learn more about her perspective, but we're almost out of time. From where we're sitting, Nepeta's already dead.

AC: :33 < […] look at the sky! JASPERSPRITE: Meow yes i see the sky and can tell that indeed something is going on. JASPERSPRITE: But aside from that i dont really understand what you said being a cat and all.

Even though he’s a Sprite, the poor guy just doesn’t have the brainpower to use this information he's getting - and that's if Sprites are even told about Scratching.

The world’s being ripped to pieces, and he’s just going to watch the pretty colors until there is no more Jaspersprite. Someone please get this cat a ticket to the Yellow Yard.

AC: :33 < im a bit nervous for you, especially since you remind me so much of someone i already lost AC: :33 < but maybe youll be ok? i dont know

It’s difficult to say. The troll sprites were implied to have died when their session ended, but this session isn’t really ending; it’s being rebooted. Sprites might be doomed in a normal game, but we’re pretty far outside of normal parameters, so there may still be hope.

...right, Sburb? I'm right, aren't I?

...Sburb?

AC: :33 < did you ever have someone nice back on earth who you loved? […] AC: :33 < […] i bet lots of girl cats would have loved to be with you, if only there had b33n some around to hear your lovely meows :33 JASPERSPRITE: Youre really nice to say so nepeta what about you though? […] AC: :33 < […] yes i have liked somebody for quite some time, but alas he doesnt know it

Nepeta’s tale is one of missed opportunities. She never got to wax poetic about her love of shipping, never got to confess her feelings to to Karkat, and - let's be entirely honest with ourselves - never really got to be a character at all.

Now, if you’re an optimist, you could take this as evidence that Nepeta’s story isn’t over – that we’ll be expanding on her character in the Dream Bubbles, perhaps.

I'm... let's say I'm a realist.

I think Nepeta is simply a victim of Homestuck's enormous character roster. Ever since Hivebent started, it's become increasingly obvious that there are some 'important' trolls, and some less important ones. This isn't a bad thing - it's just how fiction works, and it would be borderline impossible to juggle rich, satisfying, 8000-page arcs for sixteen primary characters, no matter how quickly you're putting up panels.

Nepeta simply isn't a protagonist. She's a total sweetheart, but in the end, she didn't make the cut.

JASPERSPRITE: Maybe you can win his affection by rubbing your cheek against him thats what i would do. AC: :33 < ohhh no no no, im too shy even for that! […] AC: :33 < its hard to explain, maybe cats think diffurntly, but trolls tend to be pretty cautious about expressing their f33lings when it comes to the flushed quadrant JASPERSPRITE: Whats a quadrant? […] AC: :33 < a quadrant is a thing in a group of things that consists of four similar things JASPERSPRITE: Like paws? AC: :33 < EXACTLY like paws!!! :DD

But damn, if she isn’t a sweetheart.

[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murdered, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years younger than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. gaz made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon dye it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back,, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 04

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 2.1k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

“I can’t believe you still hang out with that loser,” Hyesun rolls her eyes, annoyed.

You sigh and continue mixing the spicy paste with the vegetables, sitting on your knees. Hyesun never liked Baekhyun. He’s not a bad person. But he has his own quirks, like everyone else.

“I’m telling you, that guy is a walking red flag,” She continues, drying the cabbage. You throw your head back almost dramatically and whine.

“He’s twenty-two. He’ll calm down with time.” You reply, and she arches a brow.

“You think so? Namjoon was pretty calm at his age.” She retorts, earning an eye roll from you before you tilt your head to look at her.

“Namjoon wanted his friends to call him ‘Rap Monster’ at that age.”

“Who told you that?” Namjoon gasps in horror. Hyesun chuckles and omes to sit next to him while he stuffs jars with kimchi.

“Yoongi.”

“That traitor…” Namjoon groans, shaking his head. “It was a stupid nickname. I thought I’d become a famous rapper at sixteen.”

“It’s okay, bee-bee, I love you for you,” Hyesun coos, leaning to peck his lips. Namjoon’s annoyance melts away, replaced by a love-sick puppy smile.

“Gross.” You pretend to throw up, making Hyesun roll her eyes.

“Not as gross as you sleeping with a 22 years old kid.” She retorts, and you throw a piece of cabbage at her.

“He’s going to be 23 in a month. And remind me, how old were you when you and Joonie started dating?”

“Do you plan to marry him?” Hyesun shoots back, causing her husband to burst into laughter. “Because if you are, I promise, I’ll stop teasing you.”

“I don’t.” You mumble, and she smiles triumphantly.

“That’s what I thought.” She smirks, closing the jars of kimchi with Namjoon and putting them in a crate. “Hwan will only show up just when we’re done.” She notices that our other friend is still not here.

“As usual. You know she hates the smell of kimchi.” You reply, your hands still covered in spicy paste.

“She asked me for Yoongi’s number.” Your best friend muses, and you raise a brow.

“Did she?” You chuckle, amused.

Yoongi is definitely a catch. Not only is he handsome, but he’s also respectful. Everyone knows that the day he finally opens himself up to love, that man will worship the ground she’ll walk on. But that day hasn’t come yet. Yoongi is anti-romantic, too focused on his career to build a relationship with someone.

“We all know that man will never answer his phone.” Hyesun shrugs, and you shake you head, smiling.

“Poor Hwan.”

Namjoon chuckles as he gets up with a crate in hands. Hyesun and you both arch your brows at him.  He widens his eyes before clearing his throat.

“Sorry, but Hwan has terrible taste in men. She only likes guys she can’t have.” He explains as you agree, peeling off your gloves after finishing with the jars. You stand to help clean everything.

“She has a taste for forbidden love.”

“What was the name of that last guy she dated? The married one?” He asks.

“Siwoo?” Hyesun frowns, unsure and you nod.

“Yeah, him. Total jerk.” You scrunch your nose, as they laugh.

Hwan arrives an hour later when you’re all sitting on the patio. She offers some flimsy excuse, but you can’t blame her—with nails like hers, it’d be tough to help with the kimchi. She loves her stiletto-style nails, which are too sharp for your taste. Besides, with your job, you can’t wear gel nails anyway.

The redhead suggests going out for a “girls’ night,” as she likes to call them. You know it’s an excuse to go out, drink, and dance. You all agree to go out the following Saturday, aligning your schedules.

And that’s how, on the next Saturday, you find yourself out with your friends. Hwan wears a green dress, and Hyesun can’t resist comparing her to Poison Ivy with her red hair and matching dress. You, on the other hand, opt for a casual outfit: a tank top and baggy jeans. You’re here to get drunk and have fun with your friends, not to impress.

The three of you start at a bar in Itaewon. Namjoon drives you there so you can enjoy your night. Marriage has changed Hyesun. Well, Namjoon has changed her. Before dating him, she was in Itaewon every weekend, having so many one-night stands that you stopped keeping track.

But since she got with Namjoon, she hasn’t looked at anyone else. And Namjoon knows it. He’s so confident about his wife that when someone flirts with her, he just smiles, saying he can’t blame them since she’s the ‘prettiest.’

You start with beers and the girls with cocktails. And since Hyesun knows one of the bartenders, he offers you tequila shots multiple times. You didn’t plan to drink much, but as soon as you hand Hwan a cocktail, you know you’ll end up wasted. The redhead returns with another round of tequila shots, and you groan.

“That place is great, but most of their clients are old perverts.” Hwan grimaces, her eyes darting to a man who walks past her, offering her a smirk. She turns to you and Hyesun and feigns to gag. “Don’t they have families to go home to?”

“He could be a CEO, you never know.” You joke, and Hyesun scrunches her nose.

“As much as I love the WOSE, we both know no rich men come here.” Hyesun replies, downing a tequila shot. You do the same.

“We can still go to Paikiki after this round,” You suggest before the three of you empty your drink and bite in a lime. “There’s a lot more of people our age.”

After waving goodbye to Hyesun’s bartender friend, you step out of the bar and head down the street toward the nightclub. Like every Friday night, Itaewon is packed. People are dancing in the middle of the street, some half-naked, others making out or arguing.

You can feel the alcohol hitting you now as you walk, and you hope no one notices how unsteady your steps are. Hwan giggles and grabs your arm. The three of you make your way into the nightclub, already swaying to the music as you show your IDs to security. Hyesun leaves you and Hwan to grab drinks.

You chuckle as bump into someone, bowing politely at the group of guys who are too drunk to even care. They pull Hwan and you into their circle to dance with them. Hyesun is not surprised when she comes back and see you two swaying at some Katy Perry’s songs with some strangers.

“I’m Danwoo,” One of the guys says, leaning closer to you and you lift your head to him.

He’s dressed head-to-toe in white, with sunglasses on. You never understand why people wear sunglasses in nightclubs. Do they think it makes them cool? You’re sure they can’t see anything in the dark.

“Y/N.” You reply loudly, close enough to his ear to avoid repeating yourself. He smiles, and offers you his hand to shake. He smells like cologne and tequila –a scent you probably share with him too.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” He grins. Hwan nudges you with her elbow, silently encouraging you to talk to him. You roll your eyes, ignoring her. You didn’t come to take a guy home. Hwan whines and purposely turns to Hyesun, leaving you alone with Danwoo.

But he seems to get the hint, stepping back to give you personal space and even nudging his friend away. These guys don’t seem like they’re here to flirt; they’re just having fun.

“You’re all from here?” Kyung-Ho, Danwoo’s friend, asks as you sit on the chair outside the nightclub, Hwan perched on his lap. She’s way too drunk to even care, and he doesn’t mind her, his hands on the armchairs.

“No, Hyesun and I are from Busan.” You say, accepting the bottle of water Danwoo hands you and sitting on the chair next to you.

“I’m from here,” Hwan replies. You hand her the water, and she thanks you, taking a few sips.

“I like your hair.” Danwoo compliments Hwan, who blows him a kiss.

“Finally, someone with taste.” She retorts, making you all chuckle.

“We’re going to  grab something to eat afterward. Do you want to come?” Chun-il, another guy of their group, asks.

“No, thanks. I’ll go home. My husband is waiting for me.” Hyesun says, making it clear that she’s off the market. She’s been there too much, she knows men in Itaewon and what they want. You pat your lap for her to sit on, and she smiles, settling onto you.

“What about you?” Danwoo asks, his eyes landing on you as you frown slightly. “Do you have a husband waiting for you, somewhere?”

You know he’s testing the water, asking that to see if you’re single.

“Nah, but my cat yes.” You retort, making him smile.

“Will it gets upset if we grab something to eat? I’ll even buy something for..?” He trails off, and you chuckle.

“Trash.”

“Trash? Do you hate your cat?” He laughs, and you stick your tongue’s out at him.

“I found him in a trash can when he was a kitten.”

“He’s a whole demon.” Hwan sighs, taking another sip of her water. “He attacks everyone except her.”

“Who needs a dog when you have a Trash?” Danwoo jokes playfully, and you can’t help but smile.

Hyesun left with Namjoon an hour later, and Hwan and you decided to stay with the boys. After eating together, the boys ordered a taxi for Hwan, who was too tired to keep partying. As for you, you decided to stay. Mostly because you had something in mind.

“Fuck,” Danwoo groans against your mouth as you both stumble into his apartment. He presses you against the door, your fingers already under his shirt, tracing his abs.

“Tell me you have condoms,” you whisper as his lips trail kisses down your neck. He helps you with your shirt as you both struggle to walk blindly through the dark apartment.

"Sorry." He chuckles when you bump against his counter, both of you giggling. "Yes, I have condoms."

He steps back to turn on the kitchen lights as you catch your breath, watching him, shirtless, as he comes back to you.

“Do you want something to drink?” Danwoo asks, cupping your face to kiss you again. You shake your head. You pull off your shirt, wrapping your arms around him as he curses at the sight of you in just your bra. “Let’s go to my room.”

Sunglasses on, you wait for Jungkook in front of Jimin's building. You roll your eyes playfully as Jimin follows Jungkook out the door, walking over to you.

"Well hello Nabi." Jimin smirks, Jimin smirks, resting his arm on your window..

"How are you, Jiminie?" you ask, and he shrugs as Jungkook hauls his travel bag into your trunk.

"Good good. I'm just here to drop off my son." He sighs, making it way too dramatic. "Take care of him. He's like... the apple of my eye."

"Shut up, Jimin." Jungkook groans, stepping closer to push him. You chuckle and shake to your head. They never change.

"Do you have everything?" Your friend asks and Jungkook nods. "Enough clothes? Money? Condoms?"

"I'm visiting my parents!" Jungkook barks, making Jimin and you laugh. The tip of his ears is red as he pushes his friend away from your car.

"Safety first." Jimin giggles, but Jungkook grabs him by the back of the neck, pulling him back toward the building door. "Bye Nabi!" He calls.

"Bye-bye Jimin," You wave, smiling as you watch the boys bicker at the door. Jungkook blocks Jimin’s attempts to come back out, holding the doorknob firmly. You can still see Jimin through the glass, standing there and blowing you kisses.

Jungkook doesn’t return to the car until Jimin turns toward the elevator. The tattooed man wipes his hands on his jeans before opening your car door.

"Sorry about that." He mumbles as you simply hum.

"No problem." You reply, turning to him. "Ready for four to five hours stuck in a car with me?"

"I think I can handle it." Jungkook nods, as you start the car. "And if I don't, I'll just jump out of the window."

"You're too big for my window." You arch a brow, sharing an amused look. "We'll grab some snacks and..." you check the time on your phone. "We'll be in Busan before it gets dark."

"I made a playlist," Jungkook grins, pulling out his phone. You show him how to connect it, and soon ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ —but the One Direction version – starts playing.

It’s your song, you used to play it all the time during your teenage years.

"Nice choice.”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3 (every chapters/drabbles are posted as soon as i'm done writing them.)

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER (LINK) FOR UPDATES!!

[reignof-fyre]

"Rhaenyra was Maegor with Teats!"

"Daemon would be Maegor come again!"

Maegor's crimes:

Usurped the throne from the lawful, rightful heir

Murdered said rightful heir, committing Kinslaying

Rape, more than once

Killed every man, woman and child of House Harroway due to a rumor that his wife, Alys Harroway, had an affair

Ordered his nephew Viserys tortured, from which injuries he died

Put all the workers of the Red Keep's construction to death to keep the secret tunnels well, secret

Butchered 2,000 poor fellows who were, in actual fact, smallfolk at the wrong place at the wrong time

Raped an innkeeper's daughter

Murdered Lord Hayford, and many others

Ordered Rhaella, daughter of Aegon the Uncrowned and Rhaena the Black Bride, to be butchered

Rhaenyra's crimes

Being a woman in a man's world

Having the audacity to want to be heir and the power that comes with it

Allegedly sired bastards though there's no actual proof

Daemon's crimes

Despised the wife he was forced to marry at sixteen years old, who despised him just as much

Spent time with the smallfolk and drank and whored with them, treated them like people

Carried out lawful punishments as Lord Commander of the City Watch

Took a dragon egg without permission, which he returned when Viserys demanded it returned

Blood and Cheese

Aegon the Usurper's crimes

Usurped the lawful heir of the previous monarch

Demanded said heir and her whole family be killed when Rhaenyra wouldn't roll over and accept his "kind" terms

Slept with young girls, children really

Fondled any and every serving girl within reach, likely against their will

Bid in an auction for a young girl's maidenhead and won, siring children on her

Often found in Flea Bottom rat pits with young girls pleasuring him

Often watched "feral, starving children" fight one another for amusement

Threw a feast celebrating Prince Lucerys' cold blooded murder

Ordered every single ratcatcher in the city hanged, even those proven innocent

Allowed Cole to murder the Black supporters in the black cells, angering a great many lords of the realm

Murdered his own sister, committing Kinslaying

Murdered Maester Gerardys for no reason other than he "mistrusted" him

Aemond's crimes:

Used underhanded tactics to claim a dragon he knew his father would disapproved him trying to claim

Threatened the heirs heir and heir to driftmark with death

Committed treason by calling Jace and Luke bastards

Murdered Lucerys in cold blood, especially after he declared that "losing an eye was a fair trade for a dragon"

Is the reason the dance turned from a war of ravens to full on, bloody civil war

Butchered all of House Strong, men, women and children included

He took Alys Rivers as his spoils of war

Indiscriminately burned the Riverlands, murdering thousands of innocents

Daeron's crimes

Burned and entire town to the ground with his dragon, killing hundreds of innocent refugees

Ordered Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White murdered because they insulted him

Helaena's crimes

Supported her husband's usurpation of the throne, and being crowned queen herself

Not much else, but even if she declared herself neutral in the face of all of this, neutrality in the face of oppression means you side with the oppressor so...

[iihyuck]

SOS — 7DREAM | TEASER

warnings pretty tame, mentions of sex, cursing, slight mention of jeno’s twin, eric from tbz, sneak from chenle.

notes i’m actually so excited to work on this, i’m finally free from my writers block, praise.

pairings nct dream x idol!fem!reader

With you and the boys finishing a show not too long ago, you almost felt guilty watching your thumb hover over the send button. There was no doubt that they were exhausted—hell, you for sure were. Between the exhilarating screams from the fans, the constant beating rhythm from your in-ear monitor, and the blinding flashing lights, you weren’t sure which was the culprit for the raging headache you were nursing. 

On the way back to the hotel, you were hoping that a cold shower and some painkillers would knock it right out but here you were, lying on your bed, with that same headache. You doubted that the illuminating light from your phone screen was doing it any favors, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the screen.

It was a usual ritual for you to hide away in your room and scroll online, wondering what fans thought of your performance that night. Usually, you’d be extremely happy watching the tweets roll in with their praise, but something about tonight wasn’t quite sitting right with you; your mind had been somewhere else.

Call it envy or whatever you’d like, but you couldn’t help but feel childish as you saw posts of fans gushing over your members. You were mind-blown going through the quotes.

Maybe because you were the only girl, people didn’t look at you that way. They always called you the baby of the group, the innocent little angel. You did love the title back when you were sixteen, but now you were twenty-two, turning twenty-three in a few months.

It’d be nice to be taken seriously for once. 

You huffed and sent the message.

It didn’t take longer than three minutes for you to hear knocking at your door, and it didn't take longer than thirty seconds for you to hear the door unlocking either.

You sat up, setting your phone on your dresser as you watched your seven members barge into your hotel room, oddly enough, all wearing matching blue bunny pajamas.

“How’d you even get in?” you questioned, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Got an extra key this morning. Where are your pajamas? What, are you too good to match with your poor members?” Jaemin teased, taking a seat beside you on your bed.

“I didn’t see anything about us matching!”

Renjun huffed, making himself comfortable on the couch positioned to the left of the bed. “That’s because you don’t bother to open our messages.”

Haechan stifled a laugh as he watched you roll your eyes while sitting beside Renjun, immediately invading his space by laying his head on the older boy’s shoulder.

“Yet we open yours. Speaking of which, what’s the SOS message about?” Chenle yawned, scooching into the last bit of space on the couch. He must’ve been sleeping; his bedhead told it all.

Mark nodded, sitting on the armrest. You noticed his eyes briefly checking you over—mentally assessing if you were physically hurt. “You look fine to me.”

Your head turned as you heard a scoff from Jeno, who was sitting on the edge of the bed facing both you and Jaemin, running a hand over his face.

“Peachy even.”

“Oh, shut up.” You reached behind you and tossed the pillow you were sitting against at him, but he caught it with ease, a teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re okay?” Jisung asked, to which you nodded, noting how he stood there rocking back and forth slightly.

Weirdo.

“Well, what’s so urgent that we all had to be here?” Jaemin leaned in, curiosity glimmering in his eyes as he absentmindedly played with your hair.

You cleared your throat, fluttering your eyes shut, and took a deep breath.

The boys exchanged confused glances, waiting.

They continued to wait longer.

It wasn’t until the silence stretched on for nearly two minutes that Haechan belted out, “Yah, spit it out already.”

You jolted in surprise, clearing your throat once again. “Sorry, I was... dozing off there.”

Renjun groaned loudly, throwing his head back, and Jeno rolled his eyes, standing up to stretch.

You winced. “Okay, okay—I am... I’m a virgin,” you blurted out, slamming your eyes shut as you waited for their uproar.

It didn’t come.

You cracked one eye open to meet their very unimpressed looks.

“Well, no shit?” Chenle deadpanned.

You stuttered in disbelief, “H-Hello??”

Jaemin and Jeno shared a look before snickering to themselves; Mark held a conflicted expression.

“Okay... so you texted the group chat ‘SOS’ because you wanted to announce to us that you’re a virgin? Baby, no offense, but I don’t think that’s anything... well, serious.”

You sighed; there goes that nickname—baby.

Haechan hummed, watching your reaction before Renjun cut in, “We already knew that. And even if we didn’t, why are you telling us?”

If you didn’t feel so defeated, you would’ve found his expression cute. You could practically see him trying to grasp this.

“Because I’m almost twenty-three and the only virgin left—how the hell did Jisung lose his virginity before me?” 

Jisung sighed deeply, dropping his head to the ground as soon as a loud gasp came from Jaemin.

Haechan shook his head, crossing his legs. “Jisung is still a virgin. He would’ve told me.” But the silence from Jisung said otherwise.

Jaemin tossed a pillow at Jisung. “Yah! You didn’t tell me?”

“Or me?” Haechan dramatically whined.

The younger boy stumbled over his words, his ears flushed.

Jeno laughed. “It was pretty obvious. Where do you think this random shift in him came from? It couldn’t be anything else other than, pus—”

“Jeno,” Mark scolded.

You furiously shook your head in disgust. “I hate that word; it’s so weird!”

Chenle found that ironic. “How? You have one—”

“Oh god,” you mumbled. Oh, how you wished you could crawl into a hole and never come out.

“When did you lose your virginity? To whom? How come you didn’t tell me? You don’t trust me? I raised you,” Jaemin ranted, throwing another pillow at Jisung. At this rate, you’d sleep without a pillow tonight.

“T-this isn’t even about me! Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden—” he scrambled, putting the spotlight back on you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because what if someone super sexy and hot, like Eric, comes up to me and says—” You cleared your throat, attempting to mimic his deep voice. “Uh, you’re also super sexy and hot; let’s have sex.”

Jeno perked up at the mention of his friend but scrunched up his face after processing what you said. “Okay, he doesn’t even sound like that, and that’s not how it goes!”

You cringed at yourself, covering your face. “See? I don’t know anything about sex; I’m like a fish on grass or something.”

Renjun raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how that goes either.”

Before you could complain more, Haechan got up, standing in front of you and removing your hands from your face.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m a virgin too.”

You blankly stared at him. “No you aren’t.”

He straightened up with a sly smile. “No, I’m not,” he grinned, putting his hands on his hips.

You huffed and pushed him, which caused him to dramatically fall back onto Renjun’s lap, eliciting a pained yelp from the man beneath him.

You didn’t even push him that hard.

Mark ran a hand through his hair as he met your gaze. “Is that all you wanted to tell us?”

You frowned. “... Yeah. I’m sorry; I just... I’m sorry; this was stupid.”

He immediately shook his head. “It’s not; don’t say that.”

Jaemin spoke up beside you. “You aren’t seriously upset about this, right?”

You shook your head.

Chenle furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t find a problem here. You can easily go get deflowered by anyone you’d like. You aren’t ugly.”

“Chenle, shut up, and don’t say deflowered ever again,” Mark mumbled. The disgusted expression on his face made you stifle a laugh.

“I say you should just wait for your time to come, you know? Wait until you meet the right person. You wouldn’t want to regret it.” Renjun's soft gaze met yours.

Tilting your head, you asked, “Isn’t that bull? I mean, Jeno, do you regret who you lost your virginity to? Wasn’t it that one hairstylist?”

He hummed, thinking back on it, and shrugged. “She was alright.”

Jaemin sent his best friend a bewildered look, before Jeno corrected himself, “But no, yeah, wait for the one.”

Mark let out a defeated sigh, standing up and stretching. “Look, just... sleep it off. We have a busy morning.”

Haechan clicked his tongue disapprovingly, leaning back even further on Renjun. “You’re telling the poor girl to sleep off her horniness.”

“I’m not horny,” you defended, crossing your arms over your chest.

Renjun shook his head, covering his ears. “What even is this conversation—”

Jisung muttered a confused, “So... you aren’t horny but want to lose your virginity?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t even make sense?”

“Yes, it does, Jeno.” You frowned at him.

“This is like a major life milestone that I want to experience. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Well, of course not; we aren’t saying it is, baby.” Jaemin reassured you.

“Ugh— and stop calling me that!”

You took a breath. “It’s like I’ll never be desired with the way you guys baby me—hell, everyone looks at me like a little sister.”

“I don’t look at you like that,” Haechan said after a moment of silence.

“Gee, thanks.” You sighed, picking at the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“I mean it though, and you’re definitely desired; look at you.”

You narrowed your eyes, meeting his gaze. He seemed genuine.

“So you’d sleep with me?”

The question caught everyone off guard except him; instead of shock, he looked determined.

“I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it,” was his response.

You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off by Chenle. “No way you’re losing your virginity to Donghyuck of all people.”

Haechan pouted. “Why not? It’s not like I’d be sleeping with you anyway.”

Jaemin’s deep chuckle caught your attention. “No one in their right mind would let their first time be with you. If anyone, it should be me.”

All heads, including yours, snapped in his direction.

“What? I’d be gentle,” he shrugged.

Jeno snorted at that. “Yeah, right. For the first round, maybe? You’d break her.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t?” Jaemin playfully argued back.

“None of you are going to take her virginity,” Mark scolded, only to receive a chorus of “Why not?” from all of you.

He scoffed, getting up. “Unbelievable—all of you.”

You quickly stood up, tugging at his arm before he could walk away. “I mean, it’d make sense, right? I’ve known all of you forever. We grew up together. I trust you all.”

He hesitated to meet your beady-eyed gaze but eventually did.

“It doesn’t sound like a good idea, baby—”

“Okay, then I won’t have sex.”

He gave you a curious glance. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, grabbing his hand instead and turning to the rest of the boys before speaking up.

“You guys can just show me the ropes, just no... penetrative sex!”

Renjun's eyebrows furrowed. “You seem pretty excited about this... Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I am.”

There was a beat of silence.

Jeno shrugged. “I’m in.”

All but Mark repeated “me too.”

You felt his grasp slightly squeeze your hand before he exhaled. “Alright.”