#i feel like there are better ways to indicate someone has an accent

[thisbibliomaniac]

I'm finding North and South annoying to read because so much of it is written phonetically, but not in a way that makes any sense. It's annoying in Gone With the Wind, but I'm also familiar with the accent, so I can follow easily. In North and South I have to decipher half the conversations -_-

#i feel like there are better ways to indicate someone has an accent #such as ....saying she has an accent #and then writing slang phonetically #not writing ''hooo'' instead of ''her'' (i think?????)

[wttcsms]

these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

[lovinpelova]

to be continued | j. fleming

summary; jessie meets y/n at a party after ucla win the ncaa basketball championship. then again, then again and again.

🎵 a new kind of love - frou frou

whenever you told people you went to ucla their first response was always to ask what sport you played, expecting you to be there for division-one football or tennis, but when you told them you were simply just a british exchange-student looking for better educational standards their face always dropped. it's like they thought they were meeting a celebrity and found out it was only a look-alike when they got closer, you found it funny how people couldn't believe you came to the states purely for education.

being british you've obviously played football before and could even join the team if you wanted but you quit before your gcses for a reason; you didn't want any distractions. you'd promised your parents one day that you'd be able to give them a luxury lifestyle with all the money you earned from being a well-paid lawyer, aiming for the higher bracket of pay after learning your cousin was earning £78,000 annually. the number is massive and would be an immense help to your family after all the years of struggle you've gone through together, so you wanted to make sure you had the highest level of education and were definitely not wanting to go to oxford with all the snobby rich kids.

so you chose one of the top law schools in the states, of course!

"hey y/n, come over here!"

you were snapped out of your daydreams by a friend of a friend, one of your classmates taking law as a minor has a major in history, so they introduced you to hailie after you'd met at one of her games since you were dragged there. it's not like you hate football - you love it, and the atmosphere of college soccer is unmatched - but you would have rather been revising for an upcoming final that night instead.

you made your way over to hailie and noticed she was stood with her arm around a rather short brunette, the long-sleeved shirt (with the sleeves rolled up) that had 'ucla soccer' printed across it indicating you weren't going to get away from this football team any time soon - even though you were at a party to celebrate the men's basketball team winning the ncaa championship.

"y/n, this is jessie. one of our midfielders."

"hey, nice to meet you."

the canadian accent she greeted you with was striking, you weren't expecting her to be american but you definitely weren't expecting her to be canadian either.

"you're canadian?"

"i told you your accent was strong jess."

the midfielder nodded with a sheepish grin, hailie suddenly patting her on the shoulder after peering over yours and smiling at someone.

"i'll leave you to it then,"

the defender pulled you into a quick hug as you returned it, feeling her lean down into your ear to whisper something.

"jessie's been eyeing you up all night."

she winked and smiled at your blush, patting you on the back before leaving you and jessie to your own devices. you smiled at the canadian as she grinned in response, your eyes trailing down to see her fingers moving in a way that could only be described as anxiety-ridden.

"do you have social anxiety, jess?"

"er, yeah. is it that obvious?"

the canadian chuckled nervously - either at the fact that you've already given her a nickname or if it was because of her anxiety you wouldn't know.

"do you drink?"

"if it's the right drink, then yeah."

you leaned forwards with a charming smile and softly grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers together to make sure she didn't accidentally let go and lose you. within a couple moments you were back in the kitchen and by a table of alcohol, reaching beside it for two bottles of beer out of the fridge to stay safe. you turned and handed it to the canadian after opening it on the edge of the table, too impatient to look for a bottle opener and resorting to a party trick hailie had taught you the other day.

regretfully letting go of her hand, you leaned against the counter awfully close to her to make up for the loss of contact, both of you taking a swig of your drinks as jessie leaned in closer to you.

"do you play any sports then?"

"i used to play football but quit when i was about sixteen. wanted to focus on my studies instead."

the canadian nodded her head as you fell into a comfortable silence, watching people come and go from the kitchen as they pleased and giving each other knowing looks when couples walked past with drunken giggles or laughing together when someone was so drunk they couldn't even walk.

before you knew it you were both three beers in and completely focused on jessie, the alcohol in your systems making you far more confident than you were when you first met a couple hours ago. jessies hand was comfortable on your waist and yours were on her chest, tugging on the chain she wore as you drunkenly flirted inches away from each other. the canadian leaned down towards you after feeling you pull it more forcefully, your hips pushing against hers.

"you gonna kiss me, fleming?"

"what would you do if i did, y/l/n?"

you smirked up at jessie whilst looking into her eyes deeply, the moment so intense you nearly didn't hear hailie running into you and dragging you away from each other.

"president's here, we gotta go!"

the party was quickly being shut down as you all ran out the house, being caught by campus president was not something you wanted especially if the party was causing noise complaints. you found a couple people you knew and followed them to a safer space, looking behind you to check if jessie and hailie were there - only to find they weren't.

--------

working whilst studying wasn't always too bad, it was far easier if you had a part-time job. luckily for you, a local coffee shop five minutes outside of the ucla campus was hiring over the christmas season and you applied, working there happily for the past seven months. the pay wasn't bad - bi-weekly - and for an international exchange student it was keeping you able to buy the food you needed as well as luxuries when you were on the odd shopping trip with friends or out drinking.

the customers were the greatest part of the job, only regulars coming in daily for their usual orders as you recite them without a problem, the odd newcomer trying it out and either never coming back again or adding themselves to the list of regulars. today you noticed there was a newbie, the door opening at a time irregular to your memorised schedule of customers as you had your back turned to it, in the process of making a regulars order so you couldn't see who had walked in yet. you quickly served their order with a smile and walked back over to the counter whilst brushing off the coffee grounds all over your apron, looking up to see jessie grinning at you awkwardly.

"well, if it isn't the incredibly awkward canadian? haven't seen you since the party fleming."

"i know, hailie dragged me away from you and before i could try find where you'd ran off to the president found us again and started chasing us and then-"

"jess, calm down. it's fine. a party got shut down and we got split up, it happens everywhere. so, what can i get for you today then?"

you gestured towards the menu hung up behind you as the midfielder grinned at your acceptance of her unnecessary apology, looking over the choices of drink.

"erm, i'll just get a shaken espresso please."

"coming right up."

you made the drink as quickly as you possibly could, not wanting to have jessie waiting around for too long as she might have a class to get to or training to attend. you picked up a sharpie when you saw she wasn't looking in the corner of your eye, writing your number on the side of her cup with a smiley face before pouring her coffee into it and sliding it across the counter to her.

"thank you- how much?"

"on the house, jess."

you smiled brightly at her, holding your hand up when she opened her mouth to protest in a silent order for her to stay quiet and let you be nice for once.

"i'm paying next time though y/n/n."

"can't wait to see you next."

the canadian smiled gently, saying goodbye and walking out of the coffee shop whilst taking a sip, spotting a black mark underneath her nose and turning the cup to see your number written on it. without knowing, you'd just made jessies day.

--------

"so this is- like, a big game then?"

you asked hailie as she ran over to speak quickly after her warmup, the crowd you were sat in filled to the brim of ucla supporters, the other side of the pitch filled with usc supporters scowling across at you all.

"no, y/n/n. this is a big, big game. it's against a rival and it's the championship semi-final! have you not been listening to a word i've been saying the past week?"

"er, no. not really- sorry! i just zone out when you drone on about football. you know how much i don't care about sports sometimes."

hailie grunted in response as you smiled down apologetically, reaching for her hand and feeling her squeeze it in a silent acceptance of your apology.

"so how come you're here then? if you don't even know- oh my god jessie!"

"keep your fucking voice down hailie!"

you whisper-yelled whilst covering her mouth with your hand, raising your eyebrows in silent warning so she didn't blurt out jessies name again and make her come over to see why she was being yelled about. you and jessie had been texting non-stop since you gave her your number and she'd asked you to come to her game, hence why you were asking hailie about it. the defender had clicked onto the fact that you were clearly crushing on someone since your phone was making you smile with the odd notification and you suddenly had a very large interest in football- but she didn't expect it to be jessie.

"i knew you liked her! you were basically fucking in the kitchen the other night."

you flicked her on the forehead playfully as she scolded you, your chance to respond being ripped away as hailies coach called her into the changing rooms for a last minute teamtalk.

the game ran by fairly quickly, ucla absolutely hammering usc after a slow start. the first half consisted of one goal from your college rival and after half-time the scoreline just got bigger and bigger; jessie scoring one and assisting two as the end result was a massive 5-1. that meant ucla were going to the final in the ncaa championship against unc, the reigning champions, so you were definitely going to watch that game too.

"hey stargirl!"

you complimented smoothly as your arms opened wide for hailie, tears nearly running down her face as she picked you up into a bear hug.

"final two, baby!"

you cheered with the defender as she put you down and hugged you properly, spotting someone in the corner of her eye and grinning wildly.

"i'll leave you and your lovergirl to it."

you smacked her arm lightly as she walked away to celebrate with her teammates, turning around to see jessie beaming at you. not even giving her a chance to greet you, your arms went around her neck in a hug as hers went around your waist to pick you up, quickly putting you down to look at your broad smile with her usual blush across her cheeks.

"what a fucking game! i've never seen anyone play that well before jess."

"the pressure of knowing you were watching helped me a bit i guess."

the canadian scratched the back of her neck nervously, yourself scoffing at her shy nature as if she wasn't a finalist in the ncaa championship.

"nonsense, you're just amazing on the pitch no matter what. my midfield maestro."

jessie blushed even further at the new nickname you'd given her, smiling to match yours as she hugged you again tightly. when you pulled away you kissed her cheek, laughing at the way she froze up immediately.

"come on, you've got teammates to celebrate with."

--------

ucla had dominated their sports championships across the board. the mens basketball team had won the ncaa championship, as well as the mens soccer team and the womens field hockey team, the womens soccer team and womens basketball team added to that list within a week. the game was incredible, jessie had played another masterclass as usual and had a total of four goal contributions- ucla only scored four goals.

the win obviously called for another celebration, so the mens basketball team had offered to have another party the same place it occurred for their successes, meaning you and jessie were in the same kitchen as before but with a lot more people surrounding you. the amount of wins meant every supporter of each sport and player and friend and classmate (and the odd family member) had attended, so the house was packed.

you stared down at the ring jessie wore with 'ncaa champions' engraved into it, the ucla logo pressed into the middle. without thinking you grabbed jessies hand when she raised her other to take a swig of her beer, gently running your thumb over the engraved words with a proud smile.

"have i told you how proud i am of you yet jess?"

"only a million times y/n/n."

"well i'm making it a million and one. i'm so proud of you."

the canadian smiled down at you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders with your hand still holding hers, kissing the side of your head with confidence you knew she only had because of the alcohol running through her system.

"it's weird how last time we were in here we didn't even know each others last names."

jessie laughed softly with you at your statement, pulling you closer when more people began to flood into the kitchen to find any alcohol they could, everyone just wanting to get as drunk as possible since it was a friday and they had no classes to attend whilst taking care of their inevitable hangovers.

"i'm really happy hailie introduced us. i like you a lot."

the midfielder commented, looking deeply into your eyes when you turned to face her to show you she wasn't talking nonsense, it was just the alcohol letting things slip out.

"i like you a lot too, midfield maestro."

your eyes trailed down to her lips as she licked them carefully, watching the way she slowly began to lean in and torture you with her lips brushing over yours. you quickly leaned forward and closed the gap between you, kissing her passionately exactly the way you'd been wanting to for the past three weeks since you first met, your hands holding her in place so she couldn't move away faster than you wanted her to. eventually you were running out of breath and needed to pull away, smiling at each other after finally having made a move.

"glad the party wasn't shut down early this time?"

"very glad."

jessie responded immediately, pulling you into another kiss before you could even think about moving away from her.

#jessie fleming #canada wnt #canada womens #chelsea wfc #chelsea women #jessie fleming fanfic #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #canada women #chelsea wfc x reader #chelsea womens #ucla #university of california #california university #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community #woso #jessie fleming x y/n #jessie fleming x you #woso x you #woso x y/n

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii, could I ask you to write a semi long story of graves x reader but reader falls in love with ghost, ghost also loves her . When graves betrays 141 reader has to decided to go with graves or ghost? :3

Choices, Choices, Choices Pt.1

TW: Brief mentions of violence

I hope this is what you were looking for!! If not please let me know and I will change it:)) Sorry for splitting it into two parts, I just figured you'd been waiting long enough lols.

It was a horrible, awful, thrilling realization to find you were in love with another man.

You had met Phillip Graves on a joint operation with the Shadows, long before you joined Task Force 141. It had been a fling, a one-nights stand after riding the high of battle. You never thought you’d see him again. But you did. And then you saw him again. And again. And again. 

Somewhere in that you stopped being coworkers with benefits. You exchanged numbers, and started meeting outside of work. And you fell in love. 

And in the beginning it was exciting. It was new and thrilling and wonderful. And as the years went by, it didn’t stop being wonderful, per se. It just…mellowed out. Your relationship went from ‘Oh we’re so in love’ to something that was just comfortable. 

And you were fine with that. It was nice, having someone that was always there, or at least, that you could rely on, even if maybe he didn’t always choose you first. But to be fair, you didn’t always choose him either. Work, friends, Life got in the way, and this comfortable, complacent love was not enough for the both of you. 

Either way, it was nice to know someone was waiting for you, who cared for you, even if it wasn’t always enough. You were happy. Or at least you thought you were. COntent to live life in this comfortable little relationship you had built for yourself.

And then you met Ghost, and felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time, something new, something exciting. 

It didn’t start out that way, of course. You found him almost arrogant at first, with his mask and his stand-offish personality. You got along much better with the rest of the team. Soap was funny and you liked his accent, and Gaz was, well, after the helicopter incident you found him much more intimidating than you had thought he was at first. But he was still fun. More so than Ghost was anyways. 

And then you were sent on a mission with him. You had begged Soap to go instead, but he was taking time off because he was a big jerk. The air between the two of you was tense, right up until you got shot. The bullet tore its way through your thigh, thankfully missing anything important but still hurting like a bitch. And you were alone, on the opposite side of the city from your teammate. 

He spent the entire time talking you through the city, telling dumb jokes and making stupid comments in an effort to keep you distracted and moving. He became a friend of sorts after that. You got closer, and as the days progressed, he became more human. He told bad jokes, didn’t like smoking all that much, liked dogs, and hated snakes. 

You hung out with him more and more, not realizing what was happening until it was too late. At first it was just going on missions together, without Soap or Gaz or anyone else. Then it was doing stakeout’s together. Then training together. Then laughing at his awful jokes, then his hand on your hips as he corrected your stance. And that's when you realized you were in love with him.

You panicked. You took leave, a whale week to go NC and get your head on straight.. Graves didn’t care, just gave you a quick kiss and told you to be safe before going back to work. 

So here you are, one the last day of your break, hiding out at an old friend's house as you try to come to terms with your feelings. So far, you have come to realize two things. One, You were in love with Simon Riley. Two, He was in love with you if the way your phone blew up was any indication. 

3-In-One: Where are ya lassie? Ghost won’t stop hounding Price Skeleton-boy: Where are you?  Skeleton-boy: Are you okay?   Skeleton-boy: Price told me you took leave.   Skeleton-boy: Are you okay? Skeleton-boy: Is it because of me? 3-In-One: Text him back already will ya?   Oh Captain My Captain: Will you please just text Simon. He’s driving me crazy. 

And that was just what you could see on your lock screen. You sigh, leaning your head back against the bed. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you felt something with Ghost that you had never felt before, even with Graves. On the other, you were in a committed relationship with a man you loved. Or at least that you used to. 

Guilt was eating you up inside. Ghost was new(ish) and fun, but Graves had been by your side for years. You couldn’t throw away years of a relationship just because something new came along. How did the saying go? Relationships take work or something? You weren’t sure, but you couldn’t just tell Phillip ‘Sorry, I found something new lol. We’re breaking up’. 

No, you would work on it before giving up. You scroll on your phone, ignoring the texts, looking for couples therapists. You shove down whatever it is you feel for Ghost, deciding to ignore it until you and Graves can work through your issues. You ignore your emotions, ignore the love, the guilt, the worry, the fear. Instead you focus solely on your phone, googling what to do when you fall out of love, how to reignite the flame, how to rekindle your relationship. 

You are at it for hours, scouring Reddit, Quora, Wikipedia, everything you can think of until it’s time to head back. The drive back is tense, with you blaring music so loud you can’t hear yourself think, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. 

You enter the barracks, determined to find Graves and talk with him, but are stopped by a haggard-looking Price. 

“Y/N, its good to see you. I was worried you were going to be late.” He clasps your shoulder, steering you to the briefing room, “We have a lot to catch you up on.” 

#cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #graves x reader #no beta we die like men #ghost fanfiction #cod #fanifc #i dunno I tried my best

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e6 rewatch notes - part 2

OK, jumping back in from the point where Stevie says "Carm, this is a good thing."

Richie passing Tiff the Sprite (inside the bedroom that is totally just the walls of Donna's brain - the Carmela Soprano-esque mom tchotchke's mixed with predatory animal statues and black accents - maybe a bit too on the nose....) and saying "Carmy made this for you - he's a god damn pop machine, this guy. He's a weird little dude!"

Both Richie and Tiff mistake Carmy's kindness for weakness, just like everyone else from his past. It explains why Tiff would gravitate towards someone like Richie - she hates his brashness (see when she wanders into the kitchen scene after throwing up and he's just revving everyone up) but accepts it so long as it's countered with tenderness because that fits with her idea of masculinity and normalcy.

"We're trying to....um....you know, hook him up with Claire Bear -loosen him up a little bit."

Tiff - "With Claire? Why would you do that? She's so nice."

Nice people (shorthand for normal people) deserve archetypical masculine guys who can be romantic - not people who are neurodivergent and kind. Trauma doesn't factor into any of their considerations in setting people up, because they don't reckon with their own.

The subject changes to Richie and Tiff's relationship and future plans/housing - after just discussing how to "turn Carmy into a MAN man" we watch Richie quietly flounder because we know damn well The Beef won't afford the kind of life Tiff envisions for their new family. Tiff shares her dream about the all-green clothes for them/red for the baby (the baby breaking their mold/image) and they wonder aloud if they're going to be good parents and if Eva is going to like them.

It's true that they'll be better - they're present, they don't want to start from a bad place. But when we look at how they were razzing Carmy, it's indicative of the fact that they're not about to shed the baggage of their histories - they are playing roles that were established for them through their pasts, so they're doomed to failure after the glow of new family wares off and life gets in the way. It'll just look a little different, a little better.

Richie utters "I don't want to be at The Beef every day" to Cicero as Mikey is ranting about the Bill Murray story in the background. Richie was exhausted by the patterns in his life 5 whole years ago, and it wasn't just about providing for his family. It's so obvious that he fully regressed during the pandemic/things not working out in his new life the way he hoped. He also knew at that time that "I'm good with people, but I've never really had an outlet for that" and he never gets to prove what he intuits until "Forks" - by the grace of Carmy, no less.

*lights a candle for Natalie Berzatto* All of Natalie's abuse is so straight-forward and targeted. I'm glad they explored her character this season, but she's still too neatly-tied for the type of abuse she endured. Some of that is a celebration of her core female essence/strength, but I feel like some of the veneer still has to crack in future seasons - if they have her reeling from postpartum depression in S3 on top of her initial worries about Donna/motherhood, it's truly going to break my heart.

Taking a moment just to appreciate John Mulaney belittling the Faks, as it's the only scene where I found their presence enjoyable.

Carm grabbing the saltines and asking Mikey about them working together - Mikey saying The Beef is a nightmare is self-explanatory, but the fact that Carmy follows it up with "I don't want you talking to Claire if you don't give a fuck" and Mikey assuring him that he does, convinces Carmy that Mikey loves him through his meddling with Claire. Out of the two things Carmy has yearned for (at this stage in his life) since high school, Mikey only wants him to have one of those things - the one Mikey and co. decide will be good for him.

Mikey saying "I give, like, the biggest fuck" and Carmen looking pacified/accepting of that statement, means that his father brother is telling him that Claire is the most important thing for him to pursue in his life, and he's just asserting his love for his brother by trying to set him up with her. So much damn pressure....

Discussing The Bear drawing outside the pantry

"It's beautiful....",

"Yeah....we could do this"

"Yeah.....let it rip."

I'm pretty sure this is the last one-on-one conversation Mikey and Carmy ever had, matching the suicide note - this scene is a living goodbye, and John Berenthal plays it like he knows it. Expert-level shit, expert-level acting all around.

All hail Sarah Paulson's hot mess of a character (you can take the dysfunctional girl out of the midwest, but you can't take the midwest out of the dysfunctional girl), even if she was just around to narratively offer Carmy a flashing exit sign (knowing that he's talented and cognitively different from the rest of the lot) and dole out the story about how bears grieve.

I think one thing that Richie, the Fak's and other "related by friendship" hangers-on have in common is that they recognize that Mikey and Carmy's familial suffering has made them dynamic in ways that their own suffering has not. Both have their own unique gravitas that separates them from all the other men in their crummy suburban life - these other men are trying to absorb power by proxy.

"Can you just go and get Dad's gun out of my drawer and I think I'm just going to blow my fucking brains out and then you guys can make dinner because I don't think anyone would fucking miss me" - many thanks to @loudlightobservation for pointing out in the part one comments that Donna probably has untreated Borderline and Narcissistic PD. I initially thought this scene was over-the-top, but I burned an hour reading about how severe the reactions to perceived abandonment can be in these cases.

As per my comments about Natalie and her veneer, at least she can do things like ask Stevie "can you hug me?" and select men like Pete who will always be ready to do so. Unlike the boys, she learned how to identify needs and self-soothe early, probably because she was the most neglected of the three.

Didn't know where to put this: Cicero's relationship/flirtation with Donna when she's in the kitchen "do you know how fucking hot you are when you're slurring your words?", Lee's hatred of Cicero, and Lee trying to make inroads with Donna (again) through a work collaboration - the building in Wilmette likely being the property that Cicero mentioned having to offload. Carol (revealed to be Cicero's wife by name in s1e4) yelling at Lee as he enters for his first scene of the show. Again, I didn't know where to put these interconnected notes, but WHAT. THE. FUCK. HAPPENED. HERE.

Also, is Lee a former partner in The Beef (after he presumably replaced the Berzatto patriarch for a stay) and that's part of the resentment towards Mikey - along with sharing Donna for a time? Or is it something else? I've had a hard time piecing together these narratives beyond the obvious psychosexual connection to Donna.

Ugh, the all-hands crucifixion of St. Pete - I morphed from "who is this cuck?" in season 1 to wanting to storm onto the set and carry him out myself like a baby - not unlike how I felt the first time I saw Carmy slapping the donut out of Marcus' hands. Cringe but ultimately minor transgressions in a charged environment wind up being the greater sin than full-on emotional abuse with the Berzattos.

I'm finding there's less to dissect in the second half of the episode - everything is more overt. Cicero is generous. (re: shielding Richie). Natalie and Carmy are emotionally spent from their Donna-duty.

The whole final Donna/Carmy kitchen scene brings up a lot of existential questions I ask myself as a cook about food being a mechanism of control. I love to gather and cook for people - but I also know I'm an anxious person who needs to control the narrative, and sometimes I want people to be somewhat beholden to me through the care I extend to them through food and entertaining. In doing this, I sometimes feel pushy, and know there is always a level of avoidance in hosting/caring for people.

But with Donna, and through that conduit, Carmy - food IS control. Food IS enmeshment. Food IS the forcing function for unruly togetherness (through the restaurant and grand celebrations in the Italian tradition).

I hope that Carmy, through his collaboration with Syd, carves out a healthier narrative of what caring for people through cooking and service means. I don't think he hates cooking, as others have postulated - I think he hates the enmeshment, I think he hates himself for feeling he needs to control people through food. I think he hates feeling forced to do it, because he can't function that highly outside of it. The sooner he can extricate himself from his past, the sooner I think he'll love creating food and sharing it again.

The Lee and Mikey jousting bit is essential to the dinner unravelling, but while it's immaculately acted, it's not really interesting to me since it's such an overt conflict. Poking the bear, fighting to be the patriarchal figure of the house, blah blah blah. It makes for great visuals, but it doesn't reveal any new depth beyond "men=fucked."

And the "cousin, you're scaring the normals" comment - I see no evidence that anyone who would willingly wander into this abattoir fits that description. The best part of the scene is when Lee says "throw another fork at me and you're going to get fucking rocked" and then there's just the pregnant pause, immaculately shot, with the old clock ticking in the background.

Lee's "You're nothing. You're nothing. You're nothing" harkens back to "You're bad at this. You are bullshit. You should be dead" - all of the Berzatto men are capable of being ground to a pulp by other men they perceive to be authorities in some form or another, and I think we're only just beginning to see in this season how women factor into the equation (those in charge and those who are seemingly powerless) after a lifetime ruled by Donna.

Donna, who enters the scene, and everything defers to the power she holds over everyone with her tempestuous illness.

Ha, I missed the line in Stevie's grace where he says "We're healthy, I think? No ones si....no ones physically very sick."

"Natalie Rose Berzatto...." God. If I had turned off subtitles, JLC's delivery in this scene would make anyone hear "Do you know how much I fucking hate you" - because that's what she meant. And God bless Michelle.

It seems like, the moment Carmy looks at the car and the cannoli, it's finally cemented in his mind that Mikey and Donna are intrinsically the same person (but the selective trauma memories he maintains after Mikey's death wipe out the bad, hence his surprise about him using etc). Ending with Natalie's A+ horror film face and the lyrics "Could you ever know how much I care?" was absolutely the right editorial tone to end the episode.

I'm going to be honest....I thought I'd find a lot more in this hour than I actually did.

I'm really looking forward to Bolognese onwards, mostly because I really miss Syd now - the show without her energy (mostly because Natalie still has inadequate development, through no fault of her own) is just male trauma from a male perspective....

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #syd x carmy #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #claire the bear #mikey berzatto #donna berzatto #the bear s2 #carmy berzatto

[copperbadge]

WELL everyone has a lot of feelings about visual imagination. :D 

I went through the reblogs and comments on the two main posts I made about it and I decided not to respond to the reblogs mainly because the tags sometimes addressed me but most of the reblogs were offering personal accounts, which were very interesting to read but I don’t think really needed input from me. The same held true for a lot of the comments, but I found a few I wanted to answer.

I did want to say that I want us to be careful when we talk about visual imagination and visual thinking, or lack thereof -- the word “hallucination” came up occasionally (mainly in terms of “someone else said this” or in terms of self-description, which is a personal prerogative) and hallucination generally implies that you can’t control or discern the reality of what you’re perceiving, plus it carries negative/pejorative implications a lot of the time. I’d like to keep this discussion neutral and also make sure we refrain from stigmatizing hallucination, either, so just be cautious in how you discuss all of this. People shouldn’t feel belittled for the way in which they perceive the world, whatever that perception might be. You guys have actually been really great about this but it’s always good to vocalize those boundaries. 

gallusrostromegalus

If you tell me to picture an apple, i can imagine several apples, with different sizes, weights, textures and colors, and how the internal structure of the fruit develops from the bud like a time-lapse movie. It's wild to me that people CANNOT do this- though hilariously, it affects my writing in that I straight-up don't put descriptions in because my brain auto-generates scenes and appearences for me and I think i kind of assume everyone else's brain does too

Which is especially bananas because I don’t put in descriptions because I don’t see the point, like why would anyone want a bunch of irrelevant words, get to the important words! Two ends of a weird-ass range, I suppose. 

akela-nakamura

I very much see a picture when I'm writing/reading. In fact I sometimes get frustrated when I'm writing because I can't -quite- get the right words to describe what's in my head. It's not like, All of the time but I visualize things often and it usually doesn't get in my way. It's just...there lol

A bunch of people said that often when they write they’re describing the pictures in their head, which does sound incredibly frustrating and tedious at times, as a practice -- trying to get the right word to evoke a mental image does seem much harder than just picking a fun word that indicates the vibe, which is what I do. They’re difficult in different ways but yeah it does sound very annoying. 

taketheshot21

Brains are fascinating. Question, is it the same for voices? Do you 'hear' characters own voices in your head when you read/write or not?

It seems as though some people who don’t get visual do get audio, but I don’t get either. If I want to know how something sounds, I have to say it out loud myself -- often before I publish something I’ll read it out loud to myself to check for flow. Occasionally if I’m writing a scene in the Shivadhverse where I’m not sure of the speech patterns, I’ll go listen to people speaking in Welsh accents on YouTube to fix the accent in my mind for a bit so that I can write it properly, but it needs refreshing every time I do it. 

Like, in Twelve Points there’s a scene where Noah says something surprising to most of the family, and there’s a beat of silence before Michaelis starts to laugh -- and I know exactly how to evoke a sense of his reaction, but I don’t hear any of it in my mind, or see him sitting at the dinner table laughing. I have some sense of how most of the adults sound, but I’m around teenagers so rarely that I don’t really hear Noah’s voice at all -- but writing him as a twentysomething in a later story, I have a much better sense of what his fully-adult voice would sound like. 

byteduchess

I don't get mental IMAGES but I will experience phantom sensations sometimes especially with certain gory/painful descriptions which is. Fun.

This is why I assumed horror was such a popular genre for fiction podcasts, because it’s a “safe” way of experiencing horror stories without having to deal with the visuals or the jumpscares. It’s very perplexing to me now to know that some people absolutely still get the visuals, with horror podcasts. Although I suppose it still offers a higher level of control. 

svollga

People in dreams have faces...

Yeah, that must have sounded kind of creepy, I forget most people who dream in visuals do see faces. I knew that I was a bit unusual for not seeing them in dreams but it’s not like I see blank heads, I just never see anyone from the neck up, or if I do their face is in shadow. 

snazzy-hats-and-adhd

Hrm. Well now I kinda want to go and do a close reading of some of your stuff specifically looking for visual imagery to see if I can quantify an opinion on it, but since I've been following you since before I realized you had actual books published, it's probably a moot point. I hope your potato pancakes were delicious. 💜

They were! I do wonder how my books must read to people with visual imaginations, but comments seem to indicate I’m not bad at it (and thank you to those who said that, it was very reassuring), so my writing to evoke feeling and their reading to inspire seeing/hearing must mesh pretty well. It’s definitely something I’m going to keep in mind going forward, the fact that people will actually see what I describe, but I think also that might be why my fanfic is reasonably popular -- I leave a lot of scope for peoples’ minds to fill in the blanks, which we already want in fandom a lot of the time. 

thebibliosphere

Yeah, I am in the same boat and I get pissed off being told to "describe more things" and I'm like "why? That's just clunky." When I read and write I'm enjoying the formation and rhythm of the words, not the images in my head, because I do not have any. I can't even do it when I focus really hard and do nothing else. It's like a dream I can't reach. According to my psych person that's aphantasia but *shrug*. I've never known any different.

It really is bonkers. I’ve never known any different either, at least that I know of, and I don’t know that I get annoyed with it but I did used to be a bit confused as to why people wanted more description, it just always felt like padding to me. I once got into it with someone about how Sam Vimes is never described fully in the Discworld books, and I was like “Why would you? Pterry gets away with it, I should be able to” (which is rather arrogant of me admittedly) and they were like BECAUSE IT’S REALLY ANNOYING NOT TO HAVE A DESCRIPTION. And now I get why! Poor Sam Vimes was just a blur in their head! 

I don’t want to go into therapy but I’m reaching a point where I’m like “If I wait any longer, no therapist is going to take me” :D

br-nz

This is fascinating to me because i have a very rich visual inner world. I write fic too and i literally see the stories play out in my head, like a movie. It’s how i put myself to sleep at night, i lie there and plot out more scenes.

I mean, I do that too, I just don’t see the scenes visually. I think about situations and interactions, and sometimes I take notes if I come up with a really good turn of phrase, but it’s literally Telling Myself, there’s no showing :D 

delphinidin4

I would love to read your source on ~40% of people don't visualize when they read! I'm really interested in psychology and the imagination.

I actually got the stat reversed so apologies for that, but the research comes from the Wiki on Visual Thinking, so less reading in specific than just cognition in general: 

Research by child development theorist Linda Kreger Silverman suggests that less than 30% of the population strongly uses visual/spatial thinking, another 45% uses both visual/spatial thinking and thinking in the form of words, and 25% thinks exclusively in words.

laurabwrites

This is where the phrase 'in the mind's eye' comes from btw. Lots and lots of people picture things visually in the mind. As with everything there's a range of how detailed the visualizations are/can be. This website might be helpful to you: https://aphantasia.com/vviq/

Oh that test was really interesting and also extremely frustrating to take, lol. :D  

#an aphantasia fantasia

[rainbow-nerdss]

Crushed Flowers

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 9: Cleaning Crew Stucky, 1.2k AO3 link

Two weeks ago, Steve woke up in a changed world.

Today, he stands in the middle of a destroyed street, rubble and wreckage all around. The rest of the team — if that word even makes sense for the group he’d fought alongside — are long gone, back to their homes, or secret bunkers, or wherever else Fury had pulled them from.

Steve… he couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t go home — his home didn’t exist anymore.

He looked around him, and he didn’t see victory. He saw crushed cars, destroyed buildings, so much damage to infrastructure and people’s homes, their livelihoods, torn apart as some sort of collateral damage.

He changed out of his uniform into civilian clothes, and joined the first responders, the sanitation crews, and the civilians all working together on the real hero work — picking up the pieces after tragedy.

When Steve was a kid, a building in his neighborhood had burned down. Whole families had been left homeless, and many had serious burn injuries they couldn’t afford to have treated in Hospital. 

Steve had followed his mom out, watched her help those she could, saw the way the community rallied to help their own. 

That’s what a hero did, he thought.

He starts shifting rubble, careful not to move anything too heavy, that might tip off anyone to who he was. Soon enough, there’s enough of a path cleared to allow heavy crews to get to the buildings, and he turns his attention to the line of shopfronts. One catches his eye, a little flower shop with crushed stems and petals scattered across the sidewalk, in between crushed glass from the shattered windows, sparkling in the early morning sunlight. 

Steve makes his way over and finds the owner — or, someone he assumes to be the owner — sitting inside. 

“Need a hand?” Steve asks, then cringes, when he sees the man’s prosthetic arm. “Sorry, I—”

The man snorts, then looks up at him. “It’s fine.”

Steve steps over a broken display and looks around. It looks like one of the fights passed directly through the store, wrecking everything in its path. 

“Shit, this is—”

“I know,” the man sighs. He stands up, and Steve sees a name on his apron. Bucky. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve’s chest clenches. Not only is his name like something from home, he’s got the strongest Brooklyn accent Steve’s heard since he went to basic training. 

Steve picks up a pile of shattered wood and nods towards the street, where there were crews collecting anything broken beyond repair. “This feels like the first step.”

Bucky nods, then wipes his eyes with his hand. “Guess so.”

Together, they gather up all of the debris from inside, and stack it out in the street, to be collected by the city. The register still works, though it’s been dented pretty badly, and he’ll need to get a whole new counter to put it on, but the place already looks better, empty as it is.

“Coffee?” Bucky asks. “I don’t think the back room got hit too hard, there might even be a mug back there.”

Steve’s beginning to feel the tiredness catch up with him, so he follows Bucky back. The back room was hit, but it seemed like they got it at an angle, so there’s a mostly untouched corner, with one mug intact. Another has a large chip, but it’ll still hold liquid. And the coffee machine, blessedly, is untouched.

“This place was meant to be my fresh start,” Bucky says, quietly, when they’re both sitting on the floor with steaming mugs of black coffee. “When I got back.”

“Army?” Steve asks, and he isn’t surprised when Bucky nods. “Me, too.”

“I was only open for three months. I was… I was starting to adjust, and now—” Bucky indicates the destruction around him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, quiet enough that he doesn’t even know whether Bucky will hear. 

“Not your fault,” Bucky dismisses it. 

Steve opens his mouth to argue, to come clean, tell Bucky who he is — he might not have destroyed this particular store, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to which buildings got hit as he ran from giant fucking space robots.

“It isn’t your fault, Steve,” Bucky repeated. “You didn’t summon those fucking things, and who knows if i’d even be alive to complain if you guys hadn’t been there to stop them.”

Steve sighs. “You—”

“Yeah, I recognise you. Saw you in enough history textbooks as a kid to recognise you when you walked in my door.”

“I’m in textbooks?” Steve asks, incredulous.

Bucky looks at him, then starts laughing. It doesn’t take long before Steve starts laughing right along with him. It’s not funny, but after the hell they’ve both been through, they need it. They laugh until their stomach hurts, and then Steve pulls himself to his feet.

“So, what’s next?” he asks. 

Bucky looks around what’s left of his business and shrugs. “Not much more we can do today, is there? Why don’t we see who else needs a hand?”

They share a look, and Steve feels something unclench in his chest, a tightness he hadn’t even known was there. “Sounds like a plan,” he agrees. They walk out the front door into the chaos of the street.

Steve stoops down, finding a single, miraculously unharmed stem of bluebells.

“Hey, Bucky?” he calls. Bucky turns around, and Steve hands him the stem.

A mile spreads across Bucky’s face. 

“You know, bluebells only grow for a couple of weeks, naturally. They die off early in the spring, but they always come back the next year.” Bucky tucks the flowers into the pocket of his apron and gives a last look at the business he’d worked so hard to build. 

Steve looked around him, at the wreckage, yes, but also the hundreds of people working to set things to rights. 

“The city’ll come back, too,” he says. “We just need to offer it a little help getting started.”

Bucky hums in agreement, then sets off towards a group of people gathered down the street. “I’ve got power, if anyone needs it!” Steve hears him shout. “Door’s open, just walk in!”

Steve heaves a heavy breath, and jumps into action as people start rushing towards him, pointing them to the sockets behind the register. 

He and Bucky work side by side until they can’t anymore, eyes meeting across whatever work they take on, and by the time Steve has to go — hunger and tiredness finally getting the better of him — he finds himself following Bucky to his old neighborhood in Brooklyn instead of going back to the fancy apartment SHIELD appointed him in Manhattan.

It feels like home. 

Bucky feels like home. Steve sleeps on his couch, and when he wakes, late in the night, he finds Bucky curled up beside him.

A quiet nudge, a bleary eyed frown, and then Bucky moves, tucking himself into Steve’s side. Steve smiles, drifting back to sleep.

Maybe, just maybe, this new world doesn’t have to be completely awful. Maybe it’s not all secret organizations and Starks and threats to the safety of the planet — maybe Steve gets to go home after all — by a certain definition of home, at least.

#my fic #au gust fills #au gust 2023 #stucky fic #steve rogers/bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky

[onmyownside1]

Imma give a more in depth explanation of Angel’s world

Looks

Her world is very monotonous, but not the exact same of Spider Noir’s. You can still see color, it’s just very desaturated and dull. Everything is very minimalist with sleek designs and very little diversity. It all looks…the same. The best way I could describe this is The Giver. The world is like this so as to avoid conflict, but in doing so almost everything unique about people was erased. Cultures, Languages, Sounds, everything is all relatively the same. All boring and bland. And to break that code - to be different, or colorful, or weird, or unique - is like an unspoken don’t do. So everyone walks around wearing black and grey and white and and tan. Accent colors like gold or blue are considered bold. Pink? Yellow? Green? Unheard of. There’s very little greenery, so there’s not much wildlife around.

Technology

I’ve said it thrice and I’ll say it again, apple house. Her world is very up to date technology wise. Most things are automatic. I dare say they look like Miguel’s world. You’ll see kids at school learning how to use technology as a core class because it’s part of their everyday life that much. The cars can hover, public bathrooms are really clean, robots do a lot of things. Some people even have little (Siris? Lylas?) to help them with stuff. The assistants are connected to their phone. Of course this also means more brutal weapons. Not that they’re used for wars and stuff, more like underground work (getting rid of unions, rebellions, that kind of thing). Most of the stuff isn’t super showy though so as to not cause too much commotion. They can make guns that are completely silent, with bullets that will hit any target dead on. Although the Miami Police Department have seen many a thing, so they don’t really bother Angel so long as familiar cop tells them not to. They have more important, less helpful people to deal with cough cough Florida Man cough cough*

Politics/Society

This is basically a “everyone do everything this way and don’t stray from it” type deal. Very homophobic, very mental ableism. If something you’re doing threatens the current way of society, you gotta go. And everyone is very oblivious because why wouldn’t they be? Things are working the way they are why change anything? If something is wrong with you you’d better cover it up with medication or something, because someone not feeling okay indicates that something isn’t working in he current society, which could cause the whole thing to collapse. Overall pretty crap place to be.

Ummmmm I’ll make another post later talking about how this has affected her growing up

#AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH TUMBLR I FUCKING HATE YOU #YOU SUCK ASS TUMBLR #IM OVER HERE JUST TRYING TO MAKE THE HEADING BIGGER AND IT MAKES THE WHOLE FUCKING PARAGRAPH BIGGER IFNI MOVE IT UP OR DOWN #EVEN IF I JUST CHANGE THE ONE WORD IT CHANGES THE WHOLE FUCKING PARAGRAPH #AHKUSHAHUAKUHKAKAHKUHAHSUKSBJBHSHBSKBHSBSKBHSBJKSBKJDBJKDHHJS #GO FUCK YOURSELF #angel jameson #Angel Jameson

[ghoulangerlee]

replying to this here @goldenbloodytears because I'm v sorry but this got uhh long because, while I am not an expert on vocals or anything like that, I do have some examples as to how I guess, I personally perceive the Papas' voices.

I just really love this man and his voice, in all iterations. And the rest is under a read more because I feel bad about putting this on people's dashes as one giant block of text asdlkfsjd

Also, Spillways got me into Ghost, so for the most part, I first had experience hearing Copia's voice, which is, yes, sort of nasally, I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing, though. Tobias talking about how the Copia character is less "experienced" maybe (I can't remember the exact wording atm) in the Loudwire interview he just did, makes the nasally thing sort of make sense even though I know it's logically bc the mask fit does it to him. Copia's voice being nasally and different from the other Papas who, when we got to know them, they were already elevated into their position, it'd make more sense we get a polished sound with them vs Copia who started out as a Cardinal and later became Papa, hence less "experience". But this is just me trying to find an in-universe reason for it other than idk man has a deviated septum or something.

ANYWAY, so, back to the topic of Secondo sounding more like Tobias than the others---

Tobias has a really nice voice, and there's this certain thing that it does that I am not musically talented enough to put into proper words, but okay, so, House of Affection is arguably the Tobias Forge song, it's him singing it, not as a character and it's in the chorus mostly, just the tone he uses. It's that airy sorta higher, not necessarily a light sort of sound but it sort of goes up. I'm doing a very bad job at describing this haha. I don't have the right words for it, but it's this all encompassing sound.

This Ritual performance that Secondo did also has that same sort of sound. You can hear it especially in the chorus bit, it's higher, he sings upwards, I guess? Much like in the chorus of House of Affection, it's a very, at least to me, similar sort of thing.

And there's a good video that sort of goes through Primo, Secondo and Terzo's singing through the years, which is here and I think that also gives a very good indication that like Secondo's voice is very close to Tobias' voice.

Primo's voice is sorta...deeper, I guess, is a good way to put it. When he begins the chorus of Ritual you can hear how much lower he's doing it, like he absolutely does not sound like Tobias to me.

Secondo's voice, for the purpose of me comparing it to Tobias' is like, an almost dead ringer, if I were to hear Secondo sing and then Tobias sing as himself then I would be able to tell they were the same person, just because of the way Secondo would like, project? His voice, it's pretty similar vocal wise to other projects that Tobias has worked on.

Terzo's voice in this video example, it's growly, like he really got that gravel sort of thing going on really good and if I didn't know any better, I'd think that Terzo was someone else entirely. He also puts on a like sorta of thicker accent? You can hear him roll his R's more in songs and such.

Like all of this is not to say that he doesn't sometimes slip up and sing sort of like himself, because he does. He did it during HellFest this year because he was losing his voice and I think overall that was just easier for him than to try and sing nasally.

Once again, here's a compilation I found of the first three Papas singing Ritual, but like together? It's really interesting to listen to because you can hear the differences better like this I think.

Just for the sake of me not using only one song, but Secular Haze is the same way to me. Like, obviously he's singing the song without a mask in the studio versions, so I'm using only live versions of the songs.

The first time I listened to Infesstisumam, I was sort of blown away by how much different it sounds from Opus Eponymous. And then once I got into some of Tobias' other projects, one day Secular Haze came on my playlist and I had to like, pause for a second because I was like "oh that's Tobias. That's him."

Like the man is very very good at changing his voice up each era and everything and I don't think it's extremely noticeable unless you're like focusing so much on voice differences, but the overlaps are there and he does sound really close to himself obviously with somewhat of an accent, but it's there.

As for Terzo's acoustic performances, he doesn't sound like Tobias, like to an extent, Terzo also has a sort of nasally sound, and you can hear it pretty well in Jigolo Har Megiddo, esp when he gets higher, and like honestly I think Terzo and Copia are the two who sound the least like Tobias when you compare them.

Also, like, there's this performance of He Is where his voice is deep which just, in my mind is so far from Tobias that I'm not sure who that man is other than Terzo.

It's not to say, again, that Terzo has never sounded like Tobias, because he has, and that's just a thing that happens sometimes, but like it's not as consistent as Secondo sldkfs.

Another example of y'know, Tobias, so we're not just going off of House of Affection is the Me and that Man song he featured in as Mary Goore, it, to me, gives me sort of like, Secondo vibes in terms of the voice? And like it's not live but studio so it has that more pronounced sound than a live vocal one I guess.

This clip of him performing live with Subvision his voice does that upward, sort of projection thing that when you listen to Secondo's performances, it's really really close to that.

The man is amazingly talented, and he knows how to change his voice and do little things to each Papa so they don't all sound the same, so when you know it's time for a new Papa, you're like "oh what's he going to sound like?" both music style wise and vocal wise.

This also got very out of hand, for a silly little post, I'm so sorry, once again, but your reply was just such a good question.

tldr; secondo and tobias are twin brothers

:)

#the band ghost #this is just me #shitghosting #but also being kind of serious ahahaha #i spent so long on this i had so many youtube tabs open ive read this outloud so many times to make sure it makes somewhat sense #anyway #i hope this answered your reply in somewhat of a concise way adlkfjsd

[faequeentitania]

Till There Was You for the WIP game 😊

Yay thank you for asking! 🥰

Ah, my omegaverse Hellcheer. 👀 A fic that has spiraled far beyond what I thought it would lol. Thankfully I'm almost done, and I'm really hoping that I can start posting it next week!

Sneak peek:

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He came around the table, leading the way out of the room, and Chrissy paused as he passed by her to open the door, startled by the waft of his scent that reached her nose; where Jason had smelled off to her earlier, unappealing, Eddie smelled... well, delightful. Vaguely spicy the way a good cologne did, but undercut with something thick and cloying, all entwined with tobacco smoke from his cigarettes. The smoke she normally wouldn’t care for, but it was almost completely overpowered by all the other aspects, leaving it as just an accent on his otherwise wonderful smell. It was like someone had turned the volume up on his scent between when they had first met earlier in the afternoon and that moment, cranking it from “very good” to “amazing” in a way that made that warmth she’d been feeling for the better part of the last few hours climb just a little bit higher, made her body feel that little more restless.

Chrissy had to give her head a little shake to refocus when he opened the door and swept his hand in front of himself with another little bow, indicating for her to go first.

"M'lady," he said, giving her a sweet grin, and Chrissy had to well and truly take a moment.

He was very handsome, this Eddie Munson. She didn’t know why the realization hit her quite so squarely at just that moment, but it did; he was very handsome, and charming, and very much not mean and scary. He was thoughtful, and kind.

She liked him. She liked him a lot. They hadn’t even spent a full hour of time together yet, but the idea of spending a whole lot more was something she very much wanted. Her pack would have a fit, if they knew she was even considering such a thing; he was a bite-wolf, an outsider, but in the small span of time she’d had to talk to him, he’d treated her with more respect and genuine concern than her own flesh and blood usually did.

“Chrissy?” he said her name curiously, straightening up with his eyebrows pinching together, and Chrissy once again had to give herself a little shake to refocus.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling warmth rise to her face. “Just, uh... a little nervous I guess.”

Which wasn’t entirely untrue; she was about to get drugs from him, after all.

“You sure you still want to do this?” he asked. “If you’re having second thoughts, you know I won’t—”

“No, no, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “I’m not, it’s just... you know...”

She trailed off lamely with a feeble wave of her hand, but he seemed to get it.

“It’s weird for you, doing something so against the rules,” he supplied, and Chrissy nodded; again, not a lie, she wasn’t someone who broke rules, she had always been a good girl with a clean record, and the idea of getting drugs, of getting high, even if it was for a higher goal, still felt very weird to her.

“It gets easier,” he said, a little smirk in the corner of his mouth. “I think you’ll develop quite a taste for it, if I’m being honest, Chrissy. Breaking rules. I think there’s real badass potential in you.”

It was such an absurd thought that she had to laugh, and so did he.

“God, you really don’t know me,” she giggled, shaking her head. It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Eddie just smiled warmly at her.

“I’d like to,” he said simply.

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things au #omegaverse #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #wips

[icecoldwilliams]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍✲・*:･ﾟ :

First, I have mixed feelings about her design. In general I mostly like it, but I am very curious about the implications behind it. Mainly how the new hairstyle, the style of the dress and the fishnet stockings definitely give more Anna vibes than Nina. It's a very odd mix of Anna vibes and Nina's cocktail dress from DBD vibes? Thus I am very curious about what the new look may be foreshadowing with her and Anna's relationship in T8. — It could either be another case of Nina did something horrible and is pulling another wedding dress stunt - or, depending on what Anna's new design may be, it could be a case of maybe by some miracle the sisters are finally starting to put themselves in each others shoes and see each others perspectives.

It’s a small detail and probably doesn’t mean much, but I also find the gold accents interesting. Canon outfits wise and other than T5, after T1 we’ve really only ever seen Nina with silver accents.

If there's one thing I don't like about her new design, it's the fringe on her dress, and the fact that now muses that ship w her won't be able to make her blush by freeing her hair from her ponytail 🥺💔 (at least in her T8 verse). Like that's one of the biggest things she's soft to no wonder she cut it. 😔💔 – As for the awkward fringe on her dress, I feel like making her outfit either a simple shorter cocktail dress or a top & skirt / shorts would've been far better? Or hell just keep the long dress and get rid of the fringe, it bugs me way more than it should omg.

But also JUSTICE FOR NINA'S BANGS 2K23 FINALLY 😭💜💜💜💜 As someone who highly prefers a side part herself, I can not tell you how many times I've wished Nina would switch to one but I didn't think it would ever happennnn. I'm loving it for herrr.

I am also absolutely in love with how they're letting our fatal Queen use her weapons 😭💜 Her new rage art is perfection ✨

I got my wish of Mary returning to voice Nina yet again 🥺💜 With how busy she's been w tlovm and no doubt probably other projects, one of my biggest concerns was she wouldn't be available this time around and I am so glad that concern can now be put to rest.

I'm also very curious about how they chose a stage set seemingly close to a Zaibatsu facility to portray her in? It could be nothing, just a matter of them wanting to show off that stage, but it really has me thinking about where she might stand on the whole Zaibatsu vs G-Corp vs Yggdrasil thing now. – Someone else on twitter pointed out the fact that she's fighting Lars in half of her trailer might indicate she's still against Yggdrasil? But idk if I 100% believe that or not. – The always amazing and wonderful @teslagravity pointed out her new ending w the helicopter is very reminiscent of her ending with Anna from Tag 2 which just further has me speculating both of their current stances in this war.

But overall I am hella hype. Hella excited. The new look is going to take some getting used to for sure, but I am so looking forward to where things might be going for our Queen 💜💜💜

Still not quite sure about what I may do for a T8 verse quite yet since what Nina's up to was kept pretty vague in her trailer. But I do want to work on progressing things a little bit instead of just waiting for more info. I'll likely be sticking with my after T7 - pre-T8 main verse for now, just starting to lean closer to T8 timeline wise unless a interaction calls for otherwise.

In the meantime, look how pretty!!  😭 ✲・*:･ﾟ:

#⁺˚*𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒.*˚⁺ - OOC Post #⁺˚*𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉?*˚⁺ - Random Thoughts #⁺˚*𝒟𝒾𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒*˚⁺ - T8

[grimmywrites]

what ya think of the new re4 remake? c:

  I love it! (Everything below is the opinion of a nerd who is way too into the RE world, btw.)

OG RE4 is my favorite video game ever, and like many I was worrying over every bit of information we were fed. I didn't expect it would be, but the worry that it would be like the RE3 remake was there. Thankfully, I think Capcom knew they had to do this one right.

For me, the game is 10/10. They really upped the horror, the story, and made the difficulty feel welcome. Great enemies, great use of the cult this time around, and the game is absolutely beautiful. Not to mention the sound design is so goddamn perfect. I also love how the soundtrack is similar to the original with the old leitmotifs in some of the music. I love the addition of requests and the expansion of the maps and the exploration in certain chapters.

As a remake 9/10 - I'm aware this is just because of nostalgia filters. It's only because I have a few problems with some of the characters. While I think the tweaks to the story made it stronger and a lot of the characters are so good (I've always loved Ashley even in the OG but I'm glad everyone is taking to her in the remake), some got a raw deal.

It's a touchy subject right now, and I'm going to state: I don't condone harassment or bullying. I do think you can criticize something without being cruel. I'm not a fan of Ada's voice acting, but I can recognize what the actress was going for. I'll leave it to others to speculate. That being said, I feel like they gave her character a lot less to do. I'm hopeful the Separate Ways DLC fixes that. Krauser is... okay. Just okay. (Which disappoints me as someone who likes the metaltango ship; none of that tension was there this time.)

That being said, I think Nick (Leon's VA) did much better this time around for me. Really appreciated the fine line he played between Leon's depression and his cocky jokes. Luis is great with a correct accent and he's very playful (and all the new backstory for him and his involvement in Umbrella is S tier shit). VA for Ashley is very good. Merchant is CHEF'S KISS, god I loved him, I'd go to the shooting range just to hear him praise me in that accent.

I guess my biggest complaint is the big bads? They just feel so removed from the game. I know it's realism they're going for, but I really liked the hacking of Leon's comms in the OG so we could have conversations with them. It showed personality.

Mendez was... there. Tbf he was there in the OG, too. At least he chased us a bit this time. I hated that I didn't SEE his transformation in his boss fight. He didn't feel like a big threat. (And yes, I missed Leon charge kicking him and getting thrown on his ass, god that was so good.)

Salazar talked at me a few times, but he was so much more of a puppet and tool and thus FUNNY in the OG. I liked how frustrated he got. His remake version, again, is fine. I like that Leon just gets fed up and shoots him all the time. He's at least more present than the other two. The change in his boss fight is good, it has more mobility and I like all the tricks to it.

Saddler is probably my biggest disappointment. I love Saddler in the OG. He has so much personality. He's SO charismatic. He's confident and is a presence from when you first meet him in the Church (and before) until you defeat him in the end. He's in the castle and handles shit himself. He *jokes* with Leon and laughs at him. His fight with Ada in Separate Ways is the hardest thing in the game. I dunno, I'm bummed for him, haha. I think making him this devout cult guy as his defining feature kinda diminished him.

One last thing: I wanted the U3 fight. I'm in the minority, I know. I also know rumors and some of the game's files indicate it might be a DLC thing, but that was the only boss fight in the OG that scared me. It was so different than anything I'd ever done, so I wanted to see how they'd tackle it. All well.

Even with these critiques, I genuinely really enjoy the game. I had a huge smile on my face the entire time. I'm not mad about anything; the changes all worked for a remake and a new generation of people playing it. It's great, no matter these few nitpicks. That's all they are, nitpicks, because the game is spectacular. It's beautiful and it's fun and I really recommend people to play it because this is what a remake SHOULD be.

#lol sorry for the long rant #a little too nerdy when it comes to RE #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 remake spoilers #re4 remake #re4 remake spoilers #spoilers #re4 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #my opinion

[fvaleraye]

The Long Journey Begins

Heyyyyy all. Been a hot minute since I've posted a Scintillam chapter. The time I posted one was uh... February. Apologies for the long wait '^^ Especially since I've had this chapter finished for nearly a week and just... forgot to post it. My bad-

ANYWAY today we FINALLY have another Samuel chapter! It's been a hot minute since we've seen him, soooo lets get to it, yeah-

The snow was as deep and unrelenting as ever.

It was a clear day, no blizzards, no snowfall. But a blizzard had just passed through- the height of the snow made that clear. And conditions were not going to get much better. Not out here. Not for a long time.

And time was something Samuel did not have nearly enough of.

The snow nearly reached his waist as he waded through, following a path from memory rather than any indication that there was one there at all. Paths rarely stayed visible enough to be relied on out here. It was rather frustrating. But what was one to do?

Make do, that’s what.

It had been several days of walking and camping, but a destination was in reach. FInally.

The weary old man came into town, heaving a relieved sigh as the snow dipped. Someone was working to keep the snow from getting too high, that was good. That meant that there were still people in this village. Judging by how old some of the buildings seemed to be, it was definitely northmen who lived here. All the better.

He approached the nearest building that didn’t look like someone’s home and pushed the door open, feeling the comfortable sting of the sudden warmth. Much better. Judging by the look of the place, it was definitely a tavern. That was good, a tavern was a good place to start.

He got a few looks, not unexpected, given how he was dressed. The mask probably did it. He took off his thick, fur collared coat, and hung it near the door with several others. He briefly took stock of the place, then made his way towards the counter, pulling up a barstool and taking a seat.

“What’ll’t be.” The bartender asked, his thick accent more or less confirming his status as a northman.

“May I inquire about something, sir?” Samuel replied, prompting the man to freeze for a moment and give a glare.

“You may inquire if ye order sumthin’.” His tone was something akin to snark, but the outsider let it slide.

“Mead.”

Without much more said, the bartender grabbed a mug and a bottle, quickly filling the former up before putting the latter back under the counter, and slid it towards the customer. Samuel nodded, raised his mug slightly in a mock toast, and took a swig.

Yeah, that was definitely mead. Strong mead.

Definitely northman mead. Gods.

“What was your inquiry, stranger.”

He rolled his head for a moment, working a crick out of his neck. Then he sighed.

“I’m looking for someone. Or, well, a group of people, but let's start small.”

“Not many people come out this way.”

“That’s why I ask.”

“Hm. Shoot.”

“I’m looking for a young girl. About… maybe 17, by now? Dark skin, black hair, and…” He paused for a moment, considering something, mouth opening and close to speak several times under the mask. After a moment, he lifted the mask from his face, revealing his features as he set the intimidating piece of wood on the countertop, looking the bartender directly in the eyes, his deep, ultramarine gaze full of worry, hidden behind his otherwise stoic expression.

“... she has my eyes…?”

He considered that for a time, glancing about as he tried to rattle a memory from his brain.

“... family?”

“My granddaughter.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Leila. Her name is Leila.”

“Anything else?”

“It… has been some time since I last saw her. She had… curly hair, last I saw. But she talked about wanting to braid it as she got older.”

“Afraid I haven’t seen her, sir. Apologies.”

He let out a deep sigh, very slightly tapping his fist against the counter as his eyes wandered. After a moment, he took a deep breath, and looked back to the other man.

“... have you seen any unsavory individuals? Black cloaks, masks?”

“Black cloaks? Masks? Sir, what has granddaughter gotten herself into?”

“That is for me alone. Answer the question.”

“Well… just so happens, my sister and her daughter mentioned seeing some folks matching that description poking around in nearby burial mounds.”

“Necromancers?”

“Safe assumption.”

“Hm… the people I’m looking for do practice the necromantic arts, last I checked…” His face turned thoughtful for a moment, before quickly returning to his usual stoic expression. “Where are these burial mounds?”

“Now, sir… you sure it’s a good idea to go messin’ with those who entangle themselves with the dark arts?”

“Do you have a daughter?”

“No, but I have a son.” 

“Would you do the same for him, if you thought that he could be getting involved with these people?”

The man’s face turned for a time, expression dimming, turning grim. After a moment of silence, he let out a sigh.

“You got a map?”

“No, but my memory has not begun to fail me yet.”

“There’s a few around here. They usually poke around in them at night. Last I knew, the nearest one that hadn’t touched was to the south. They’ve been working their way that direction, so I figure they might be gathering materials before crossing the border.”

“I see… what do these mounds look like?”

“They’ll be a bit hard to see in the snow, but they’re… well, mounds. They’ll have a door in front.”

“Thank you.” Samuel grabbed his mask, and placed it back on his face. “May I perhaps order some food for the road?”

“Have it on the house, stranger.”

“That is not necessary, I have funds.”

“I insist.”

He was silent for a moment, before giving a long sigh, tilting his head.

“I appreciate the gesture. If you’re willing, some more of this mead to help keep me warm would also be greatly appreciated.”

The mound was indeed quite hard to spot in all of the snow, but a bit of observation revealed the near completely obscured door. It hadn’t been touched in quite some time. That was good, that meant that they still hadn’t arrived. He took to hiding in a nearby patch of brush, and kept a close watch.

He wouldn’t bring up Leila. There was nothing saying they had discovered her yet. But he would certainly question them.

If the best thing he could do was take attention away from her, and, perhaps, even be an example to not mess with these people, he would gladly do it.

He had no intention to die. Not now. But if he had to die for her safety, he would.

It was hours of waiting. The mead helped. Small sips. He didn’t need to get drunk.

But, eventually, as the night dragged on, shapes emerged from the darkness. Black cloaks, intimidating masks. He recognized the marks adorning their attire as well. These were the ones.

As the lead one began to fiddle with the door, Samuel made his approach, snow crinkling under his feet. It was hard to be stealthy in this much snow, but he just needed to make an approach. He just needed to get close enough, not close the gap entirely.

He had long since learned to fight effectively in extreme environments, some snow wasn’t going to hamper him enough to endanger him.

He wasn’t going to get any closer than this, not with the other two standing there.

He slowly reached towards his belt, pulling a sickle attached to a rope from it.

He readied it at his side.

Account for weight.

Account for wind.

Get a good grip.

Stand.

Wind up.

Release.

The weapon screamed through the air, the blade colliding with the skull of the leftmost of the trio, piercing their skull, followed swiftly by a yank that pulled head from shoulder…

… with surprising ease?

The lack of blood, and a quick glance, quickly revealed the individual’s skeletal nature. Necromancers for sure.

Or, well, necromancer singular, given how the one fiddling with the door was the only one to startle.

“THE HELLS-?!” He cried, nearly stumbling over his own two feet at the intrusion.

By the time he was able to right himself, Samuel had pulled his blade from its sheath and dispatched the other guard, also a walking corpse, and pinned the offending necromancer against the wall with a yelp.

“Who sent you?”

“The fuck are you-?!”

“You must be a new member of your ilk, a veteran would be shitting themself at the mere sight of this mask.” He tightened his grip around the other’s throat for a moment, prompting a gag.

“Fuck-! Fuck, what do you want-?!”

“Who sent you?”

“I- no-one-! I’m here doing-!” He gagged and shrieked as the grip tightened again. “-d-doing! I-i-independent…! R-research…!”

“Somehow, I do not believe you.”

“Y-you really… th-think… if th-this were s-s-sanctioned… I’d be… a-alone… w-with n-n-nothing b-but t-two… skin… less… h-husks… for company…?!”

His grip loosened ever so slightly, enough to allow the acolyte some air. He gasped for air, wheezing and panting, but still struggling against the far taller and stronger man’s grip.

“What do you know of your order?”

“I just… I j-just joined for the fucking tutelage under r-real necromancers… I don’t… I don’t believe in a-any of that Wyrm stuff…”

“... so you are useless to me then.”

The man only had a second to process the sheer weight of the statement before his neck was unceremoniously snapped, leaving him a corpse along with his followers. He was expecting a real disciple of the Wyrm, not a sycophant of death… what a waste of time.

Well, at least these people’s burial mounds will go undisturbed from now on.

Onward to the real destination, then. No time to waste.

#Faye Writes #Scintillam #Samuel #to this day; i still never know what to tag these chapters with asdlfkjn #well either way #i hope y'all enjoy the writings #and; as always; reblogs are appreciated if u did #i consider these chapters my art just as much as i do my drawings; so asdlfkjn

[robbed-ghost]

DC thoughts cause I have them

- Bruce canonically cannot cook to save his life, but he’d likely adapt and learn to make snacks for dummies (honey on crackers, apple slices, cereal, etc) and those become a lot of the batboys’ comfort foods

- Billy Batson always has his powers but when he’s in his real form/child body it’s proportionate to his size. So he has incredible endurance, strength, speed, and wisdom (and kind of always smells like rain/ozone) but only in relation to a 5th grader.

- Wisdom of Solomon does NOT mean common sense or intelligence. It means Shazam is perceptive and has good judgement based on knowledge he already has. Whether or not that wisdom is based on how wise king Solomon of antiquity was is unknown.

- Jason actually stole the wheels off the batmobile because he made a bet with Catwoman while he was homeless for $50, who 100% thought he was bluffing. She still has three of the wheels under her bed

- Poison Ivy has acne during spring—it’s her version of seasonal allergies

- When Damian was a kid he demanded servants to eat his food with him. His mother and grandfather took this as him being a natural born monarch being perceptive enough to know about poisons, but really he just didn’t want the servants to feel left out and didn’t want to eat alone.

- At least one member of the justice league is colorblind; that many aliens doesn’t make for a consistent amount of cones (the color perception in the eye, humans have 3) and the watchtower ALWAYS has to accommodate for this in some way. Like hell they’d ever leave someone without their proper accommodations for what could be considered a disability.

- Hawkgirl is incredibly farsighted and her mask/helmet doubles as reading glasses

- When Diana went to a salon for the first time. Oh boy. She didn’t leave that massage table for 3 days.

- Everyone can always tell when Clark just got off a call or back from a visit with his parents because his accent comes back. He can never hear it himself and its driven him crazy trying to get rid of it.

- After an incident involving time travel and meeting another version of Bruce—a very old version—learning the fact that Bruce has a risk of heart problems makes his kids ease up on the pranks and death defying feats. At least while in front of him. He doesn’t though.

- Dick and Wally have a secret code that they made based on Rock Paper Scissors. It looks exactly like Rock Paper Scissors except they move a finger or change angles to indicate what they’re talking about and it took Wally 6 months to get correct

- Every year for the Flash Day in Central City the Rogues decorate things with antlers and red noses without fail. Every year on Flash Day Wallace Rudolph West considers the ramifications of changing his middle name.

- Black Canary always has access to tea somewhere in the room. Any room. One time she pulled tea bags out of one of Batman’s pockets and he was stoically bewildered as she calmly made earl grey during an interrogation

- The amount of times Constantine has had to be escorted from the premises of a case is absurd

- Tim’s footsteps constantly fluctuate between being super loud and extremely quiet. Since he was at home alone so much he was used to being able to be loud, but quickly learned to be quiet after he realized he could be heard while following Batman and Robin, and got even better at it when he became a superhero. Whenever he gets loud, he knows it’s time to take a nap.

- Steph is terrible at chess but the best scrabble player you’ve ever seen. Cass is always in awe, because she’s the exact opposite.

- Barbara can still do a backflip paralyzed from the waist down. Her arms are enormous and she always finds a way.

- Duke HATES the Night Shift, his powers are annoying and near inert when literally everything is bathed in darkness. (He also sleeps with the hallway lights turned on so he can see footsteps under the door before they’re there. All the bats do.)

- Since he was born in the phantom zone, Chris Kent has a lot of problems that taught Clark about being a good father. He and Bruce don’t have many serious disagreements after Chris. He understands now.

- Every single lantern goes absolutely apeshit over Lego bricks, they can’t get enough of it. One time the league went on a mission that involved the lantern corps and there was a giant battle of Lego builds in willpower green that they had to break up.

- Lois Lane is face blind. She does not let this stop her. Clark took an entire class on body language just to try and keep his privacy under wraps because she can read people like a book. Why else do you think she’s such an amazing investigative reporter and can’t spot Superman’s big lovable face a cubicle away?

#I just wanted to vent that outta me skull #it ate at me like a little parasite #headcanons #writing prompt #dc #justice league #batman #bruce wayne #billy batson #Shazam #black canary #clark kent #superman #lois lane #chris kent #diana of themyscira #diana prince #john constantine #hawk girl #wally west #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #selina kyle #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #duke thomas

[robertdowneyjjr]

fics, drabbles, headcanons and everything in between.

all of this is tony stark-centric. mainly stevetony, some tonyrhodey, and occasional iron dad (with peter and/or morgan) and pepperony.

asks are always open for prompts. i just might be a little slow responding because my job gets in the way 😊

ao3 // writing tag // headcanons

*** indicates recent additions; last updated may ‘24

GEN/TONY-CENTRIC

a.i.’s, bots, and friends | canon compliant, bot feels, angst

when tony was 17 and missing his best friend, he decided he needed to have someone around to always keep him company.

back to school | de-aged!tony

Tony gets hit by a spell that turns him back to a teenager and spends a week going to school with Peter.

bust our way outta here | endgame au

Trapped in space in a ship that’s running out of oxygen is not how Tony plans to die.

golden slumbers | gen, og6, avengers as a family

When Tony lets himself fall asleep around you, it means he trusts you.

goose | tony loves cats

The team meets Goose the Flerken and he only takes to Tony.

he’s the hero they deserve | children love tony, multilingual tony

The Avengers find a HYDRA bunker filled with abandoned children, and the only thing that brings the kids comfort is the sight of Iron Man.

memories turn into daydreams become a taboo | post-cw, maria stark

Tony returns to the Stark Mansion for the first time in twenty five years.

mistletoe | og6, background pepperony

It’s a competition to see how many kisses each Avenger can get from Tony.

one more candle and a trip around the sun | alt-2012, team as a family

All his life, Tony never celebrated his birthday the way he truly wanted to. Usually, Howard or Obie would throw frivolous parties as an excuse for the rich and obnoxious to gather, and Tony hated every second of it.

When the Avengers come into his life, he gets to celebrate his birthday the way he likes, with the only people who matter.

sentimental | tony-centric

“i’ve been called many things. nostalgic is not one of them,” tony says, as he turns around to talk to the bot he built when he was 17

scientific victory protocol | gen, tony-centric

Tony gets extra excited whenever he makes a breakthrough in his work.

stark industries daycare | tony’s good with kids

The daycare at SI is understaffed and they ping Tony for help.

tony stark’s time heist | endgame au, headcanon

Only one person goes on the time heist.

STEVE/TONY

and time can do so much | stony loves steve 2022, post-2012, developing relationship

Steve Rogers has a complicated relationship with time. He's the man out of time, the man who's lost everything to time.

But then he becomes friends with Tony Stark, whose love language is quality time. And that's exactly what Steve needs to find a place in this century.

anniversary | mini-fill, tumblr prompt

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

anywhere | mini-fill

"That is not where kisses are supposed to go."

the awkward stepdad | mini-fill, iron dad, steve-centric

Peter and Steve just don’t really know how to act around each other.

babygirl | mini-fill, nicknames

The back of Steve’s neck heated up and he could feel the flush slowly making its way down his body. “Babygirl?” That was a new one.

be your own tech support | technologically competent steve

SHIELD IT’s first mistake was assuming Steve was too dumb to handle computers.

best in blue | lingerie

Tony has always known how to enhance his best features, to tease Steve with barely any effort at all.

better together | post-iw canon divergence

"I told you, during the mess with Ultron, that we’d always do things together and I broke that promise. It keeps me awake at night knowing that if we hadn’t split the team up, if we had just talked, then maybe we could have had a fighting chance against Thanos. Maybe we would have won."

buongiorno, amato | italian tony

Tony spends ten weeks in Italy speaking nothing but Italian. When he gets back to New York, a heavy accent laces all his words and it does things to Steve.

burnout | mini-fill, steve taking care of tony

Steve taking care of a burnt out Tony for the first time, trying to be gentle while also trying not to let his overwhelming worry show as he takes care of a listless version of his previously energetic boyfriend.

capsicle, human in ice | mini-fill, established relationship, art snob steve rogers

Steve is not exactly impressed with modern art.

cease and desist | mini-fill, idiots in love, getting together

“Why did I just get a cease and desist letter from your lawyers?”

“Oh. That. You did something that greatly offended me.”

come around again and say baby i miss you | mini-fill, post-breakup

Steve learns as he tries to rekindle things with Tony that he’s gonna have to worker hard for this than he expected.

⤷ sequel: the next step to take

Steve talks to Sam about what he should do next.

coming home to you | no powers teacher!tony au

After a long, exhausting day at work, Tony just wants to cuddle with Steve.

creature of habit | established relationship, fluff

Tony's too short to reach his coffee mug on the top shelf of the cabinet. Steve put it there so he could see Tony's shirt ride up.

cute tiny brunette & hot blondie with the tiddies | no powers neighbors au, bulletpoint fic

They see each other every week in the laundry nook, until one day they finally start to talk.

cuts much deeper than they seem | pov natasha, post-cacw, tonynat friendship

It’s been three months since the so-called superhero civil war, and Natasha’s tired of Steve skirting around Tony’s name when she misses her friend too.

a day in the life | married stevetony, idiots in love, humor

Both their plans fall apart when they each come up with the same idea to hide and scare each other at the exact same time.

don't dream it's over | misunderstandings, established relationship, happy ending

Steve thought they were happy. That their relationship was going strong, and they had forever ahead of them.

But apparently Tony thought otherwise.

(originally a short prompt post)

donut stress, just do your best | mini-fill, grumpy tony

Tony's grumpy about a lack of donuts but Steve kisses him better.

embarrassingly obsessed | mini (micro) fill, dialogue only

“Tony, stop encouraging me to objectify your boyfriend. It’s getting weird.”

falling softly | mini-fill

Steve shows Tony how to fall without hurting himself.

fathers of the year | no powers single dads au, bullet point fic

Their daughters become friends. Then eventually sisters.

fools in love | headcanon, bullet point fic

tony’s always been the more romantic one between the two of them.

fred and ginger | post-aou canon divergence, retirement, married life

After retiring, Steve and Tony settle into farm life and absolutely love it.

friends will be friends | established relationship, steve and rhodey friendship

Steve and Rhodey sure are spending a lot of time together.

No, Tony doesn't have a problem with it at all...

But if Steve could go back to hanging out with his own James and stop hogging Tony's, that would be much appreciated, thank you.

gerald | gen, steve & tony friendship, endgame divergence

Gerald the alpaca isn’t easily won over.

hand kisses | soft fic prompts

They have a nightly routine.

he's all i want, just for me | christmas fluff, established relationship

Steve just wants to spend time with Tony during his favorite holiday, is that too much to ask?

here tonight | tumblr prompt

Tony smiles, placing his hand on top of where Steve’s is resting on the side of the bed. “I’m just kinda upset because we were supposed to have our first date tonight but now I’ll be bedridden for a little while.”

here we go again | mini fic, established relationship

Nothing turns Steve on more than watching the armor assemble around Tony’s body.

i can do this all day | nsfw, slutty steve

he grins and it’s so depraved, so filthy, so completely at odds with the what the world expects from captain america.

i’d choose my cat over you | mini-fill, no powers au

if tony’s cat could stop shitting in his dates’ shoes every time he brings someone home, that would be great, thanks.

it’s that easy | endgame mini exchange 2023, getting together

Steve has two problems:

1. He has feelings for Tony but he’s not sure what to do about it. 2. Peter and Harley don’t seem to like him and he doesn’t know why.

Actually, he has three problems.

3. There’s no way in hell Tony would be interested in him when his kids clearly hate him.

Bucky thinks Steve’s only problem is that he’s an idiot.

i’m a prize, baby, you can’t lose | trophy husband tony

Howard Stark is rolling in his grave right now because he only ever cared about Tony taking over Stark Industries, but the fact of the matter is that Anthony Edward Stark was Born To Be A Trophy Husband.

just because | soft fic prompts

“You okay, big guy?”

Steve sighs softly. “Yeah,” he mumbles into Tony’s hair.

kiss the beaver's ass | established relationship, MIT pride

Steve loses a bet against Bruce, resulting in him having to wear Harvard merchandise for a whole week.

Tony and Rhodey take school rivalries very seriously.

*** loaf actually | 2023 cap-im holiday exchange

After his embarrassing attempt at cooking for their team holiday potluck dinner the year before, Steve is afraid to try again. Luckily, he has Tony to help him out this time around.

made you laugh | soft fic prompts

All Tony wants to do is stop Steve from looking so worried and sad.

no second thoughts | mini-fill, tumblr prompt

“Who cares about what they think?”

not the avengers | crackfic

there’s a webcomic that happens to be really popular among everyone in the marvel universe.

oh no! | post-cw canon divergence, steve rogers is a troll

Before Steve shaves off his facial hair for good, he pranks Tony by trimming it into a Stark-style goatee with the promise they can be a power couple that dresses the same. Tony, horrified, does something drastic in retaliation.

once in a lifetime bargain | no powers au, pre-serum steve

Tony goes Black Friday shopping for the first time and meets a tiny, angry Steve Rogers while fighting over an espresso machine.

one degree hotter | tumblr prompt

Tony gets another degree under his belt and invites Steve to his commencement ceremony.

operation: mess with the muscles | clint and tony friendship, pranks, misunderstandings

When Tony and Clint mistakenly think that Steve has a crush on Thor, they hatch a plan to prank the two big blond beefcakes to help Tony get over his crush on Steve.

Their plan, of course, backfires.

the perfect blend | coffee shop au, pre-serum steve

Tired of the stress and pressure that comes with being the CEO of a global tech conglomerate, Tony hands over control of Stark Industries to Pepper and decides to open a cafe in Brooklyn.

Then an exhausted high school teacher named Steve walks into his life looking for coffee and doesn’t make any effort to leave. Not that Tony’s complaining.

release | mini-fill, no powers au, escort!steve

Tony doesn’t do relationships, but he does need to get fucked hard regularly.

reunions | soft fic prompts

Life as a career superhero is fulfilling, but nothing compares to life as Tony Stark’s husband.

*** secret santa | team as a family

“Sooo, who did you get for Secret Santa?” Natasha asks as she plops herself down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I thought the whole point of Secret Santa was that it’s supposed to be a secret,” Tony says. He raises his eyebrow and spares her a short glance before looking back at his phone. He hopes he comes off as casual as he’s trying to sound and Nat doesn’t realize he’s frantically scrolling on his phone for gift ideas.

shelter | established relationship, soft

On the nights when he gets plagued with bad dreams, Steve prefers being the little spoon.

softly, with feeling | fluff

they just really love kissing.

spring little cobra (getting ready to strike) | kissing prompt, getting together

When Steve got off the couch to go looking for Tony today, he didn’t think he’d be shoving his tongue down the other man’s throat the moment he saw him.

that twinkle in your eyes | stargazing

Going on adventures to see the stars together is their thing. So Tony builds an observatory for Steve at the Compound.

thanks for the memories | established relationship, scars, fluff

Steve finds all of Tony's scars beautiful, but there's one in particular that he loves above all else.

things we have in common | steve & rhodey friendship, dialogue only

Rhodey and Steve bond over the silly little things they love about Tony.

tony yeets howard off a cliff | endgame divergence

Anon said: What if the guardian of the Soul Stone isn't actually a real person but a manifestation created by the stone replicating the soul of the best messenger for the particular seeker? So not *really* the actual Red Skull (though he thinks it is) but a copy chosen for Thanos because he would best reflect Thanos & his reasons for wanting the stone etc. So maybe when Tony goes for the stone he doesn't meet the Red Skull, but Yinsen (or knowing Marvel, Howard).

tranquility | established relationship, fluff

They spend a quiet day at home together after the rain cancels their plans for a picnic date.

trolling the press (backfires) | tumblr prompt

When asked about himself in interviews, Tony gives fake answers just for fun. Steve, in an attempt to impress Tony on their dates, bases everything they do on interviews of Tony he can find online.

utterly twitterpated | established relationship, cuddly tony

it takes ages just for steve to get out of bed in the mornings because tony, for lack of a better word, clings.

what’s in a name? | nicknames, jealous steve

Tony has a habit of nicknaming all his friends bear. There's Rhodeybear, Bruciebear, and even Thunderbear.

Clearly, since Steve doesn't get a bear nickname, it means Tony doesn't like him.

... right?

what's mine is yours | 5+1, developing relationship, clothes sharing

For a billionaire, Tony Stark really doesn't pay for a lot of what he wears.

or

5 times Tony stole Steve’s clothes, and 1 time Steve returned the favor.

what i like about you | college au, steve likes tony’s muscles, tony likes steve’s brain

There’s a really cute brunet guy that goes to the gym at the same time Steve does, and he’s been trying for the last month to work up the courage to ask him out.

without feelings | kiss prompt, steve rogers is a troll

“People kiss each other all the time, doesn’t mean there’s feelings involved.”

the world passing me by | post-endgame divergence, MCD, steve-centric, angst

Steve does this about once a week. He wakes up, puts on his workout clothes, leaves his phone at home, laces up his shoes, and just runs.

you’re a wolf, boy, get out of this town | mini-fill, capwolf au

Steve and Tony are still antagonistic, snarky teammates, but Steve in his secret werewolf form just adores Tony.

your kiss is on my list | tony’s birthday gala 2023, post-2012, getting together

The last thing Tony expected when Captain America was unfrozen and came back to life and had a verbal spat with Tony before teaming up to battle an army of aliens together, was for the super soldier to one day show up at the door to his workshop with a bouquet of sunflowers and ask him out on a date.

Teenage-Tony, who had two Cap posters (one in his dorm at MIT and one in his childhood bedroom), a stolen key to Howard’s room full of Cap memorabilia, and his own one-of-a-kind homemade Captain America almanac, would have been thrilled. Adult-Tony, who at the ripe old age of 43 is only now slowly trying to properly address his decades of internalized self-worth issues, thinks this is too good to be true.

your love, lifting me higher | nsfw, bottom steve, wall sex

Tony is absolutely capable of lifting Steve up and fucking him against a wall.

BUCKY/TONY

*** for warmth | post-cw

Tony likes to snuggle up to Bucky. Just to stave off the cold, you know?

STEVE/BUCKY/TONY

*** a lot to think about | fic idea, not fully written, no powers au, established stucky

when tony started working for bucky, he never imagined that anything would ever, could ever happen between them.

for starters, bucky was a decade older than tony. not that he had a huge issue with age differences, but still. tony was only in his early 20s when they met.

but more importantly, as far as tony could tell, bucky was happily married.

*** weather appropriate | no powers au, young tony

Tony is not above being an absolute brat to protest against his dad. So when he’s forced to join a weapons demonstration, all he packs are booty shorts and tank tops.

Howard, predictably, is pissed. His two favorite soldiers, on the other hand, are far from complaining.

*** wrong face, right guy(s) | fic idea, not fully written

steve and bucky each meet tony separately but they both feel that immediate attraction the second their eyes meet tony’s. they just know, at once, that they’d do anything to get to keep tony.

TONY/RHODEY

a little tune up | mini-fill, post-cw

Rhodey deals with something traumatic and Tony helps.

birthday pancakes | MIT era, birthday fluff

It kinda sucks when your birthday happens to be in the middle of midterms season, but luckily Rhodey's got an amazing best friend to make up for it.

burritony | sickfic, established relationship

Tony doesn’t usually get sick, so when he does, he’s kind of a big baby about it.

death of a bachelor | post-im2 canon divergence, secret relationship, DADT repeal

For the first time since he became an Airman, James Rhodes RSVPs for the Air Force Charity Ball with a plus one.

double date | mini-fic, side carol/maria

the first time they went on a double date it wasn’t even planned.

dude | soft fic prompts

Usually, Jim adores all the nicknames that Tony gives him. But there’s a time and a place.

i just need you | post-afghanistan

After getting rescued from the desert, Tony refuses any sort of medical care and only lets Rhodey help him clean up. He also refuses the cot he's offered, and only gets his first bit of safe, real sleep in three months curled up in a chair, leaning on Rhodey.

james rhodes: strategic genius | established relationship, domestic fluff, kittens

Every time their kitten leaves Tony to snuggle up with Rhodey instead, Tony gets a bit upset about it. Sure, he tries to hide it, but Rhodey's observant and he's not dumb. So he comes up with a solution.

(sequel to snowball kitten)

just one more surprise | pre-canon, established relationship, marriage proposal

Jim transfers back stateside after years of being stationed in Europe. The first thing he does is ask Tony a very important question.

lethal puppy eyes | kiss prompt, sickfic

“kiss me, i’m miserable”

the little shit | tony & rhodey friendship, endgame compliant, MCD, angst

i need to take care of him, rhodey thought. he should outlive me, the little shit.

lover | soft fic prompts

Forty years together and he still gets butterflies.

mess around (at the park all day) | MIT era, fluff

To make up for missed childhood experiences, Rhodey brings Tony to an amusement park for the first time.

not a quitter | mini-fill, feelings realization

Utterly ridiculous that Jim’s only realizing this now, after Tony’s been kidnapped.

a numbers guy | MIT era, tattoos

Rhodey gets his first deployment and has to leave for Europe. Tony, missing him, gets his first tattoo.

our own hashtag | established relationship, vow renewal

tony and rhodey got married in a quiet city hall ceremony in 2004 with only pepper, happy, and the rhodes family present. they’d never regretted it, never even thought about how they were never able to have a huge wedding and invite a hundred guests. it didn’t matter to them, because they just needed each other and nothing else.

the powerhouse of the cell | MIT era, sleep-deprived tony

A manic Tony suddenly shows up at Rhodey's dorm in the middle of the night. He sits wordlessly and unnaturally still next to the twin bed, and Rhodey's not quite sure what's happening here.

snowball kitten | established relationship, kittens

When Tony wanders off without a word after a pleasant date night, Rhodey follows him to find out what's suddenly gotten into him.

the strength to let it show | MIT era, fluff, getting together

Jim misses having his best friend around, so he's on a mission to find out just what's so special about the new lab partner that's been hogging Tony's time for the last month.

this is our place, we make the rules | soft fic prompts

With absolutely zero grace, Tony climbs on top of Rhodey and clings on like a koala, nuzzling into his neck with a soft whine.

valentine’s day | headcanon, bullet point fic

valentine’s day has always been their holiday.

you're enough | MIT era, howard stark’s a+ parenting

When Tony's feeling down after a phone call with his dad, Rhodey's there to make him feel better.

IRON DAD

chemistry & cupcakes | slice of life, morgan and peter

Morgan's first grade bake sale is coming up, and Tony's not going to let her show up empty handed. He enlists Peter's help for a day of baking.

in which tony inadvertently adopts wade wilson | wade pov, peter & wade friendship

Being a merc while living in New York doesn’t exactly pay well. The only way for Wade to get by is to live at Avengers Compound. In secret. Because Tony absolutely cannot find out.

light my way home | tony & morgan

Morgan pats Tony’s chest and mumbles, “Your heart is my nightlight, daddy.”

the man who has everything | tony & morgan

If Yinsen hadn’t been there in that cave to save Tony’s life, he wouldn’t be here now, happily living life with his daughter. He goes back to where they first met to say thank you.

never any doubt | tony and morgan

All through her life, Morgan never, ever doubts that Tony loves her.

no job too big | iron dad spider son, sickfic

Tony takes care of Peter after he insists on going on patrol while he has a fever.

the oprah of candy | morgan stark, big brother peter, bullet point fic

Peter takes Morgan trick or treating.

peter and tony’s science channel | iron dad spider son, youtube videos

Tony and Peter are about to start filming their latest video when Tony suddenly wanders off without a word. Is everything okay??

princess stank | pre-endgame, background pepperony

Morgan says her first word on a day when Rhodey’s visiting.

so this is christmas | baby morgan stark, avengers as a family, bullet point fic

Morgan’s first Christmas.

starkview | crackfic, morgan stark, tony is an extra dad

If Tony can’t buy Netflix, he’ll start his own streaming service.

PEPPERONY

the chaos of day one | iw canon divergence

Pepper goes into labor and Tony holds Morgan for the first time.

morning sickness | pregnant pepper

His fingers through her hair as he’s holding it back is the best kind of comfort.

plans for breakfast | nervous tony

He’s uncharacteristically nervous after their first time together. It’s kind of adorable.

pretty woman au | hooker tony, bullet point fic

role reversal au | bullet point fic

silver | insecure tony

Tony’s hair starts turning grey and he’s really grumpy about it.

you’ll answer to me | post-cw, pepper pov

Steve wants to make amends.

TONY + RDJ SPECTRUM

(fics inspired by RDJ’s outfits)

fashion icon | gen, young tony

Without even realizing it, Tony has been making fashion choices based on the RDJ films he’s been watching.

i need a hat | stevetony, tony & rhodey friendship

“Tones, you always choose hats that ruin your outfit. You look perfectly fine. Stop accessorizing with terrible hats.”

“But I like hats.”

“Hats don’t like you.”

incognito | steve & tony

Tony dresses down for a mission.

movie night cosplay | gen, og6, steve/tony if you squint

Clint: wear something related to ur favorite disney princess on tuesday. dibs on merida xx

not-pajamas and fake elbow pads | MIT era, tony & rhodey friendship

Jim turns from where he’s standing by the counter next to the french press to see Tony rushing out into the living room from the hallway, frantically searching the apartment for the other half of his pair of red Converse shoes, which he’s been wearing almost everyday for the last three months because they match his new glasses.

OTHER

alt-2012 thortony | headcanon

babysitting duty | gen, avengers as a family

Everyone loves babysitting Morgan. Even Nick Fury.

doppelganger | avengers x kkbb crossover

Harry Lockhart meets Tony Stark.

morgan stark, all grown up | headcanon

place your bets | happy & rhodey friendship

They have a running bet for how long it will take for Tony and Pepper to finally get together.

slide | bruce banner-centric

When he thinks he's alone, Bruce likes to slide into different rooms in his socks with the music blasting.

thortony high school au | headcanon, bullet point fic

In which they are pining idiots

#stevetony #tonyrhodey #buckytony #stevebuckytony #pepperony #tony stark #iron dad #kay writes things MASTERLIST #(not everything tho there's actually a lot more that i wasnt quite sure how to include lol)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

--

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

-

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

-

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

-

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

-

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

-

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

-

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

-

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

-

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

-

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

-

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

-

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

-

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

-

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

-

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

-

fin.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you