#wi discord

[welcometoteyvat]

nobody talks about venti and ei besides that they dislike each other a lot but no!!! they’re simply two sides of almost the same coin-- the different ways they deal with love and loss have shaped their countries, their ideals, and themselves in this essay I will -

#i brainrotted about this with a friend on discord . literally. venti is almost a twin. his body is the same as the nameless bard which he lo #lost. ei literally is a twin. makoto died and so she tried to preserve her memory in an everlasting inazuma. venti took up wind and song to #make sure people's stories and those of old mondstadt would never be forgotten. #do you get it. they are insane . dont you think venti reminds ei of makoto? fleeting/transient maybe a little whimsical. if the archons have #shared losses and stood against time together does that not create some empathy for the others #when ei was an absent god and let the shogun take control would venti blame her? perhaps in the name of freedom but he can also empathize wi #with her deepest desires; to see someone's glory live on #anyways the moral of this story is that ei's sake drinks venti under the table and thus that is why he was drunk in inazuma earlier #ramblings! #if someone talks to me about this i will love you forever #genshin impact

[your-local-ruebit-hole-detective]

I have woken up #feminism

#rue rants #Anyway will not be on the discord server for a bit because Wi-Fi shenanigans

[blankwisher-tsp]

Hey guess what.

I opened a discord!

Still working some stuff out, but I want to make connections easier for the folks who are interested

Also looking for staff if anybody would like to help out.

#wis #winds in spirit #windsinspirit #oc #artists on tumblr #discord #creative writing #writing

[postanagramgenerator]

I don't really ship characters but when I do, I keep shipping characters who don't have lips, a mouth and/or a feeling body, what do I do great advice giver?

i don't really ship characters but when i do, i keep shipping characters who don't have lips, a mouth and/or a feeling body, what do i do great advice giver?

->

ever dated long distance wi’ discord? i'd make the ai/dead ghost or whatev share funy pic, or chat abt pipis, love can be going lol w another, hip hip hurray

#bask ox #mayo nouns

[xuchiya]

baker's secret ingerdient {k.yeosang}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The rhythmic thwack of Yeosang's whisk against the metal bowl was a familiar soundtrack to his mornings at Cafe Love. Flour dusted his apron like a badge of honour, a testament to the countless pastries he'd brought to life within these walls. But lately, the melody of his baking had a discordant note – the growing number of disappointed sighs as customers learned his signature croissants were sold out yet again.

Seonghwa, the manager along with the food decor, were concerned about the head baker and the pressure. Seonghwa approached the flour covered man, “Yeo …”

“I don’t need help hyung …” Seonghwa feels bad that Yeosang can’t express his burden yet he understood from the dark circles underneath his eyes, the hunch of pressure on his shoulders. Seonghwa glanced at the lady at the corner, looking at them with a frosting on her cheeks. 

Seonghwa sighs, “I’ll look for a way.” 

Yeosang prided himself on his creations, each croissant a delicate masterpiece – flaky, golden, and bursting with buttery goodness. But the demand had become overwhelming, for days that turned into weeks that it became too much for him that he finally broke down with Seonghwa about his pressure and in need of help.

     He needed an assistant, someone who could share the burden and the joy of baking.

The double door of the kitchen chimed, announcing a new arrival. Yeosang glanced up, expecting Seonghwa with another piece of bad news. Instead, a young woman with eyes as bright as blueberries stood hesitantly by the counter. Her hair, the color of melted chocolate, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

  "Can I help you?" Yeosang asked, his voice cold despite the flour dusting his nose that makes him soft and warm.

The woman stammered, "I, uh, saw the sign about the baker assistant position. Your manager told me to head here since today will be a little more crowded than usual, and don’t worry, I love to bake!"

Intrigued, Yeosang wiped his hands on his apron, approaching the woman with left eyebrow raised,  "Love to bake, huh? Let's see what you've got then." He led her to another table, just across his, a haven of flour sacks and the intoxicating aroma of sugar and butter. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

  "This place is amazing!" You exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. Yeosang gave her a neutral look. "Tell me that, when you can handle 24 pieces of croissant, 20 pieces of brioche and 10 blueberry muffins."

You grinned, placing your shoulder bag down, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows; tying the complicated apron around you, "Challenge accepted."

The following hour was a flurry of activity. Flour flew, butter creamed, and the air filled with the comforting scent of baking. Yeosang watched intently as you handled the dough with surprising dexterity. Your movements were quick and confident, belying her initial nervousness yet there was something itching on Yeosang as he watched you knead the dough. 

“You’re hurting your wrist if you keep doing that.” Yeosang shakes his head, approaching the woman. You move to the side to watch him knead the dough easily before removing to the side again to recreate his actions but Yeosang sighs in disappointment making you look down; you were so confident about the things you've been doing and the moment you heard that made your confidence deflate but you have to keep up with the professionalism and continue kneading the dough.

You heard Yeosang sigh once again before you felt presence on your back and a soft grip on the back of your hands as it led you to kneading on his pace. You felt his breath fanning your nape, “This is how I do it so I wouldn’t hurt my wrist.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch, paralyzed, with the close proximity of your warmth against your head baker. Your heart wasn’t also helping with the situation.

“... understood?” Your eyes  widen, looking to your left; having an intense eye contact with Yeosang. Both of your hands halted, just resting each on top of each other. Yeosang had admitted the moment he was kneading the dough with you, your sweet perfume lingering in his nose and your face that was covered in flour.

You both pulled away, looking away from each other as the redness so evident on your faces. Yeosang cleared his throat, clearing the awkwardness, “Continue doing your job.”

They worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic kneading and the satisfied sighs escaping the oven as a new batch emerged. Finally, Yeosang pulled out a golden brown croissant, its layers impossibly thin and perfectly risen. He held it up for inspection.

You look closely at the croissant, “How is it?” You look at him– at the same time– Yeosang glance at you. Once again, you find yourself in your own world as his eyes trails on your eyes, down to your nose then to your cherry lips then back to your eyes.

You were doing no better as you took notice of his birthmark on his left eye, his lashes resting so perfectly that it made his eyes big and sparkly that you wouldn’t get tired looking at them.

“If you both are gonna kiss, please do it after the rush hour.” You and Yeosang pullaway to see Wooyoung leaning on the door with his arms crossed and playful smirk on his lips. Yeosang nodded, a hint of red on his cheeks, “Yes, of course.”

  The day ended with a success, your smile was brighter than the fresh pastry, turning to your head baker,  "We did it!"

Yeosang couldn't help but return the smile. He'd found his assistant, someone who not only shared his passion but also possessed a talent that rivaled his own.

The afternoon rush was a whirlwind. Customers who'd previously left disappointed walked away with bags filled with warm, flaky croissants, their faces beaming with satisfaction. The pressure lifted from Yeosang's shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie as he and you worked side-by-side, a well-oiled baking machine.

By the time the cafe closed, exhaustion mingled with a deep sense of accomplishment. Leaning against the counter, Yeosang looked at you, another set of flour dusting your cheeks like a baker's badge of honor.

"Welcome to Cafe Love," he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. You grinned back. "Thanks for having me. This is going to be fun."

As they cleaned up, they talked about baking dreams and favorite pastries, their laughter echoing through the quiet cafe. You were wiping your table when you realised how this customer always comes back ordering his pastry with so much adoration.

You spun on your heel, “Uh Yeosang?” Yeosang was busy placing back his utensils but still managed to acknowledge you, “Yes?”

You twist the towel as a sign of nervousness, “Every baker in town has its secret ingredient … Do you happen to have one?” Yeosang pauses, silently placing the last utensil inside the drawer before closing it. He looks up, wiping the cloth on his fingers as he approaches you with big strides. 

Your breath hitch as you watch Yeosang lean on your ears, “It’s something you wouldn't believe even if I told you." He stops just short of your ear, his voice a low murmur sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his breath tickle your neck."But maybe, I can show you sometime."

You were slightly confused until Wooyoung came barging into the kitchen with his enthusiastic smile, “Hey love birds! Seonghwa wants to have a drink for another successful week for us, so if you guys are finished come outside.” You nodded, placing the rag inside your apron, “Of course, thank you Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung winks at you, “Anything for you, darling and anything for this Cafe Love.” You did not question his last statement as you helped Yeosang on the cups before Wooyoung returned back inside again, just sticking his head, “Ahh .. you guys can kiss now.”

“Wooyoung!” Both you and Yeosang exclaimed, making Wooyoung cackle loudly before exiting the kitchen, “Oi~ Benvolio, take this chance man.” Yeosang chuckles at Wooyoung, hushing him.

“Benvolio? From Romeo and Juliet?” You question, Yeosang nodded, “He named me after Romeo’s cousin, for no reason.” 

You pouted, thinking about the tragic love story, “From what I remember, Benvolio is like someone who tried to mediate the conflict between the families, and he was also the reason Romeo and Juliet got together. He's the nicest character that I have observe, he deserves someone to be love, you know.” 

Yeosang looks at you, intrigued. He does not know much about the tale but it somehow matches what he did to Wooyoung and to his lover though, Yeosang helps Wooyoung to do the first move in talking; he and Wooyoung aren’t close as being blood related hence cousins.

But Yeosang didn’t mind much of it and continued doing his work. Yeosang knew then that Cafe Love wasn't just about the delicious treats; it was about the connections forged over shared passions and the joy of creation. And with you by his side, the symphony of baking at Cafe Love was about to get even more beautiful.

Yeosang glance at the old worn out book, it was closed but he knew inside those were the secret ingredients of creating a pastry full of love. It was a book given by Wooyoung’s significant other, Wooyoung’s long lost Juliet.

Yeosang had seen how his best friend fell in love and experienced love. So he made an oath that not every single soul will experience love not only through emotions but through food.

Yeosang smiles, looking over at you, his smile brightens and extends, “Benvolio is indeed a nice person to deserve himself a beautiful lover in this life.”

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang scenarios #kang yeosang fluff #8 makes 1 team #kang yeosang fanfic #ateez atiny

[swissboyhisch]

The Best Kinda Night

Pairing: Arber Xhekaj x Reader

Summary: Your first time watching Arber play and you get to see the rough side of his job.

Word Count: 1574

Warnings: fighting, mentions of sex related things

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Since meeting Arber at a club after a game one night, the two of you hit it off. The two of you spent the whole night on the dance floor together. Maybe getting a little too handsy in public. After a couple too many drinks, you found yourself waking up in his bed. Arber woke up while you were getting dressed once more, phone held between your shoulder and ear. He protested you leaving and asked you to breakfast. Citing that he was wanting more than a one night stand with such a pretty person.

It had been months since you had had your first date and you were yet to go watch Arber play. Until tonight that is. Tonight he had a game against Arizona at home and you had a glass side ticket. You pulled out the pair of jeans, hoodie and jersey you planned on wearing before jumping into the shower. After spending the afternoon pampering, you made sure you were ready early so you could leave for the stadium and take in the journey.

What he didn’t tell you was that Caitlin, the captain’s girlfriend, would be meeting you at the stadium and sitting next to you so you weren’t alone. Not that it would have bothered you. But he wanted you to have a friend within the team because he knew you were going to be around for a while.

“Hi! You’re Wi-Fi’s girlfriend, yeah?” A blonde greeted you a couple moments after you stepped into the club bar area.

“Uh hi?” You and Arber weren’t public yet so you were very confused as to why she asked you this. She was dressed similarly to you but wearing a jersey with a C patch. Suzuki if you’re correct. “Sorry, who are you?”

The girl smiles, “I’m Caitlin, Nick’s girlfriend. Arber thought it would be a good idea you weren’t sitting by yourself.”

“Oh, that’s exciting. Thanks for agreeing.”

The two of you grabbed a drink from the bar before taking a seat. There was still half an hour until the teams took to the ice for warm-ups. You got to know Caitlin while you two bonded over the drinks. The blonde even introduced you to a couple of the other girls who walked by on their way to their seats.

“Let’s go find our seats. We’re against the glass,” Caitlin suggests when you both had finished your drinks.

Following others through the stadium halls, you find your section and descend the stairs. You made sure to take pictures of everything. Taking in all the bright lights and experience. The two of you were at a perfect spot. Across from the bench and near the penalty box. Or as you like to call it, the sin bin.

“When did you and Arber meet?” The blonde asks.

“Uh, a year ago? Dating for about 7 months.”

“He’s kept you hidden from us!”

You chuckle at the girl’s reaction. “Yeah, we just wanted to get settled and comfortable in our relationship before telling everyone.”

The two of you got to know each other while waiting for the teams to take to the ice for pregame warm ups. At least the chairs were comfier than other stadiums you have been to in the past. You glanced around at the fans around you. People watching. A few Arber jerseys stood out to you. Some Caufield and Suzuki jerseys as well.

“Here they come,” Caitlin spoke up, pointing to the tunnel.

One by one the boys stepped onto the ice and did their laps. Arber came out and skated around, looking around at the fans. He spotted a fan sign with his name on it being held up by a boy no older than 6. Watching the fan interaction was one of the best parts. Arber played paper, scissors, rock with the kid before flicking a puck over the glass and posing for a picture.

“Look who’s skating this way,” Caitlin teases as she waves to Nick standing in front of the girls.

Arber skated towards Nick and bumped him. He then turned his attention to you. The Canadian boy had the biggest smile as he waved like a kid to you. Just like he did for the little boy, he waved the puck then tossed it over the glass. You caught the cold rubber and posed for a picture that Caitlin was more than happy to take for you. Before he skated away to continue warm ups, he put his into a fist as best as he could and put it against the glass. You copied his actions and did a fist bump through the glass.

The fist bump started when you two first started dating. You had always fist bumped your best friend as a goodbye since they weren’t the hugging type. With Arber, the first time you did it was when you were both laying on the couch after your second date. Both of you were to shy to cuddle at the time. But you randomly held out your fist to him. From there it’s a daily occurrence. When it came to games, it fitted into the pregame ritual. He would kiss you goodbye then a fist bump on the way out.

“I like the jersey,” He yelled before giving you a smirk and skating off with his captain to join Caufield not far away.

“He’s so in love with you,” Caitlin pointed out. “I’ve never seen him smile that much. That wide!”

Warm ups went quicker than you’d like and next thing you know the teams skate off again. Now the wait between warm ups and the start of the game. Caitlin grabbed a silver sharpie from her bag and thrusted it towards you.

“You have to write on the puck the date and first Canadiens game.”

You agreed and wrote it on the back of the puck. One to start a collection. Or add to Arber’s puck collection when you moved in together.

The game started and was going smoothly. Kinda. There was some tension building and by the 2nd period you could see that Kassian was aiming at Arber. Wanting to drop the gloves. It wasn’t until a checking incident that Arber decided he had had enough.

“Here we go,” You smirk as Arber and the Arizona player threw their gloves off and grabbed each other. As someone with combat sport training, a fight was entertaining. “Arber’s got this one.”

Kassian’s first punch knocked off Arber’s helmet but he was sure to retaliate with multiple blows, one after the other in quick succession. The Coyotes player dropped to his knees pretty quick, allowing Arber to get some good hits in. Kassian managed to stand up again but didn’t stay on his feet for long. With the coyotes’ jersey in his grasp, Arber took him to the ground. He threw one last punch before the refs managed to pull him off. You watched as your boyfriend smirked at the sight of the player on the ice before skating to the penalty box. He even waved his arms to hype up the crowd who were all cheering by. He looked towards you, a smirk on his face as he chewed on his mouthguard.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, turned on more than you’d admit to anyone.

“Keep it in your pants,” Caitlin laughs after she hears your muttering.

Arber took his seat in the sin bin and side glanced at you. Another smirk appeared when he noticed the look on your face. He winked at you before turning back to the game.

“Welp I’m gonna have to buy new lingerie after tonight,” You joke (slightly) to Caitlin.

She laughed, understanding the feeling, “it’s the best kinda night after a good, tense game.”

The pair of you laugh before turning back to the game that was playing. The game soon came to an end with a win for the home team. Caitlin showed you down to the family room where people waited for the players to finish changing and the media tasks.

“I’ll introduce you to some of the other girls if you want?”

You shrug, “Sure why not.”

The captain’s partner took you around, introducing you to the older players’ partners. Meeting their kids who were running around the room as well. It definitely filled the waiting time because you feel arms wrap around your waist as you talked to Caitlin and Kirby Dach’s girlfriend.

“Hey,” you grin, turning to see a freshly showered Arber.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. You could see in his eyes what he was thinking about. “Hey baby.”

“I can’t believe you hid her from us!”

“Sorry girls,” he chuckles. “You’ll have her around more but I’m gonna steal her now.”

Caitlin smirks, “don’t break any furniture.”

You blushed but Arber smirked and dragged you away and out of the arena. When you reached his car, he pushed you against the door.

“God you look so good wearing my name on your back.”

You tangle your fingers in his damp hair. Pulling him closer. “Showing everyone who I’m with.”

That snapped the tension. Arber ducked his head and kissed you roughly. He hand slid up your back and cupped the back of your hand from hitting it on the car.

“Let’s take this to yours shall we?”

Arber grinned as he opened the passenger side door for you, “you’re in for a long night baby.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @dasiysthings @dancerbailey3 @puckmaidens @cole-mcward48 @sammiejane22

#arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj imagines #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj blurb #arber xhekaj rpf #arber xhekaj fic #arber xhekaj fanfiction #montreal canadiens imagine #montreal canadiens imagines #montreal canadiens x reader #montreal canadiens fanfiction #montreal canadiens fic #montreal canadiens blurb #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl rpf #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch

[somewherebetweendisorder]

How To Ruin a Friendship

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: language, slight angst?, fluff

~~~

"Ow."

Eddie's fingers falter over the strings on his guitar as you press on the yellowing bruise exposed by the hole in his jeans, enjoying the way his skin squishes beneath your finger.

Sorry," you giggle and thumb the fading contusion once more, memorizing the way his skin dips down until you can feel the press of bone below. It shouldn't be such an alluring sensation, but to your weed-addled mind, it's consuming. Eddie picks the song back up eyes drifting closed in response to the blunt you two shared half an hour ago. He had more than his fair share, leaving you pleasantly calm but not far gone by any means.

Your eyes settle on Eddie's hands as he plays, following the strong plains and ridges of veins that climb his forearms and taper off at the crook of his elbow. You look away, uncomfortable with the growing fascination resting low in your gut. It had been building for months -hell, years really- every time it threatened to boil over, you disappeared for a day or two, feigning illness or claiming you had a lot going on before rejoining Eddie as the easygoing best friend he expected.

"I wanna play," you murmur, breaking whatever spell the music held over the room.

Eddie's eyes popped open, blurry and unfocused as he struggled to take in your form at the end of his bed. He pulled the guitar strap over his head, passing you his sweetheart with the same caution a new parent might hand off their infant with. You slip the band of fabric over your head, and Eddie reaches out to adjust the strap, tightening it minutely. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed, it's impossible to ignore really, when his warm fingers brush your neck, the metal of his rings smooth against your skin.

Your fingers are clumsy on the strings, strumming a discordant melody, your face scrunching up in distaste and concentration. Eddie reclines back against his headboard, trusting you with his baby, and content to watch the show.

You struggle for a few minutes more, playing a fragile set of chords from a Metallica song Eddie tried teaching you before accepting defeat and shrugging off the guitar. He's so pretty when he plays, dark hair a curtain around his face, hypnotized by the song humming through his body. You prefer to watch him play.

The hours tick by, and you crawl up the bed to lay next to Eddie, no longer able to control the yawns erupting out of you. He smiles as you steal the blankets, wrapping yourself up tight and looking up at him. "Sleep Eds, it's late."

"Ah, whatever, the night is still young," he argues but moves to place Baby in her designated spot, turning off the light as he goes.

He hovers by the door, letting his eyes adjust, and you can feel his gaze on you. "You need anything, Y/N?"

The fact that he asked touches you, warmth curling around your belly, spreading outward. "No thanks," you whisper after a moment. He slides next to you under the covers, the bare skin of his arm brushing yours as he gets comfortable.

Most nights, you find yourself in Eddie's bed, sleeping over yet again, surrounded by the boy, the man next to you. Tonight isn't really different, but somehow it feels like more. Eddie shifts closer, whispering goodnight. Before you can say the words back, his lips are seeking, brushing your skin, turning it feverish.

And that kiss that Eddie plants on your forehead catches you off guard. How often have you both toed the line between friendship and harmless flirtations bordering on something more? You were never fully convinced that Eddie reciprocated your messy feelings, and you were terrified to muck anything up between the two of you. You can think of only one occasion in your long friendship when his lips had graced your skin, and you were half out of your mind with pyrexia. You weren't even sure if he actually had kissed you then, or if it was just wishful thinking. But he had definitely just kissed you now, and the familiarity with which those plump lips ghost across your skin now belies a hint that it's happened more than once. Stolen kisses when you were asleep, a fluttering press against your cheek before he surrendered to sleep or left in the early, watery light.

Now though, no one is leaving, and no one is quite sleeping so, you whisper a breathy goodnight before rolling over and trying to sleep.

Sleep must find you at some point because you're waking up now, blinking slowly against the pale light streaming through his window, growing more aware of the heavy arm around your waist and the face in the crook of your neck.

It's not new. Eddie is a cuddler in every sense of the word; you wake tangled together most mornings, but you're hyperaware of every juncture where his body touches yours. It's all too much, and before you know what you're doing, you're scooting across his small mattress to create as much space as possible between the two of you.

He groans through his sleepy haze, squinting at your retreating form. "Where ya goin', babe?" The pet name elicits a deep flush that crawls up your neck, peeking out of the low neckline of your sleep shirt and staining your cheeks.

"Bathroom," you squeak, refusing to turn around and see his face, softened by sleep, looking younger and boyish, hair mussed from his pillow.

With hurried footsteps, you rush from the room, stumbling over the ratty carpet that's bathed in a soft tangerine glow from the open windows. Once the bathroom door is closed behind you, the lock turned home, you sag against the wall, closing your eyes against the harsh artificial light.

This isn't going to work. Running away every time Eddie does any typical Eddie thing. Either you put up with things as they are, or muster up the nerve to tell him how you feel.

Rather than going back to Eddie's room, you make your way to the kitchen, intent on making breakfast for yourselves and the Munson boys. Reaching for the coffee filters you fumble with the thin paper, frustration mounting when you can't get the stupid things to separate.

"Jesus Christ, please." It's one of those cruel moments when everything begins to landslide at once. How are you supposed to handle these feelings when Eddie is so hard to read? And why won't the goddamn filters just separate. Fingers still fumbling over the thin edges of the paper you don't hear Uncle Wayne approach, don't notice how quickly he zeroes in on your watery eyes, and pinched expression.

"Here, girl. Let me. They can be stubborn little bastards."

He's reaching for them, a sweet smile on his face, and you relent, quickly trying to smooth out your expression. He doesn't let it go though.

"Something on your mind?"

Clearing your throat you open the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs you brought over yesterday, along with some fresh vegetables, intent on making omelettes. "Oh, no. I'm um, no. Just still tired, I guess." You smile over your shoulder, trying to sell the story.

He doesn't buy it, you can see it on his face, but he doesn't pry, instead finishing preparation on the coffee you abandoned while you start on breakfast. Silence settles, the comforting kind that seems to only exist this way with Uncle Wayne.

This has become a bit of a routine with you and Wayne, what with you here so frequently, and Eddie sleeping until someone drags him from bed, you've developed this sort of back and forth in the kitchen. Wayne packs a sad lunch of cold cuts on white bread, grumbling as you pass him carrot sticks and celery before he settles at the small dinette to wait for breakfast, newspaper in hand.

You finish his first, grabbing a plate and quickly topping his omelette with a few garnishes. Wayne Munson deserves nice things in life, even if it's just a good breakfast. You set it in front of him on the table, a fork already on the plate, and he looks at you over his reading glasses.

"Thank you, girl. What's the green stuff."

You smother a laugh, unsurprised that he's caught you sneaking green into his food. "It's cilantro. It's good, just eat. Please."

"Alright, alright."

His food is gone when you turn back around to watch him fold up the newspaper and grab his lunch. "Thank you, it was wonderful as usual. Maybe we don't need the leaves on top next time though?"

"Oh, whatever. You just don't want to admit you like rabbit food."

"It'll be our secret," he winks, heading for the door.

Eddie's food is done, already on a plate on the table, and you really can't put off waking him any longer. You grab the mostly empty water glass off the counter, abandoned by Eddie last night after dinner, and pad down the hall.

He's sprawled across the bed, blankets twisted around his legs, old tee shirt riding up his stomach, revealing a thin stripe of pale skin. You don't let yourself stare, shaking off the thought, stepping up to the edge of the bed until your legs hit the mattress. You don't think before dumping the glass right over his head, cackling when he shoots up in bed.

"What the hell, Y/N!"

"Oh please, there was hardly any water in the cup to begin with."

Setting this glass on his messy nightstand, you're unprepared for him to lurch forward, wrap his arms tight around you, and pull you into the bed right on top of him. The squeak that slips past your lips is loud, deafening even, and Eddie tilts his head to the side, something unfamiliar lingering in his eyes.

"Eddie, let me go right now."

"Aw c'mon, babe, don't be such a bad sport."

Trying to wriggle out of his arms isn't working, and he's not letting you go. You resort to pinching his thigh, trying to shake him off, but his arms are tightening instead.

"Why are you acting so weird? Did I do something?"

"No, no." Those perfect lips of his are pulling down into a sharp frown, brows pinched, and brown eyes pleading. "Eds, you didn't do anything just- Let me go."

He does this time, lets you slide off of him, and perch on the edge of the bed, a much safer distance. He's sitting up now, leaning against the wall, watching you silently.

"Okayyy. If I didn't do anything then what the fuck is the problem?"

Eyes fixed on the carpet you focus on pulling at the frayed hem of your shirt, avoiding the question as long as you can. He's got clothes all over the floor, a messy trail to the laundry basket shoved in the corner.

"There is no problem, I just- Nothing."

"Bullshit. Since when do we not tell each other things?" He's scooting closer as he speaks, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he speaks, knee lodging itself against your hip as he faces you.

For a moment you allow yourself to imagine telling him. Letting three little words tumble into the space between you. But the next scenario you see is his disgust, lips pulling up as he leans back. Years of friendship going down the drain so fast, and the thought has tears welling in your eyes, a sob sticking painfully in your throat. You feel a string snap off around your fingers, further damage to your poor shirt, and you look down at it, the long thread tangled around your fingers, too tight, turning your fingertips an unflattering shade of purple.

Eddie sees it too, and he's focusing on pulling the string away, tossing it carelessly onto the floor, tipping his head closer to yours. "Don't cry. You know you can tell me anything, babe. Please."

"What if you hate me?"

His expression shifts, just a bit, like he's confused. "S'not even possible."

His voice is soft, earnest, and genuine, and his eyes are swearing it to be true. You look at his floor again, messy. He needs to vacuum. He needs to clean. And as you focus on the discarded socks and shirts, it's a bit easier to speak, the knot in your chest unraveling just enough to let the words slip past as you you spot the cassette peeking out from underneath his Hellfire shirt.

"I- God, okay, well it's like. If you don't feel the same or whatever, it's fine, obviously. I guess I just have to get it off my chest, and we can forget about it afterward but I-"

He stops you here, fingers on your chin tipping your face towards his, so suddenly you're looking right at those earthy eyes that you were trying to avoid.

"Eds, I love-"

This time, he's cutting you off with his lips on yours, sweet, nervous, trembling just a bit, but intentional. Shock worms its way up your spine, stiff and unfamiliar, but it feels so right, and you're melting into him, like sugar over heat. His hands are shaking too, one resting against your jaw, the other searching for your hip, landing a bit high and sliding down.

"I love you." The words are sticky against your lips, his voice lower than usual, heavier. He doesn't give you a chance to respond, tugging you closer, on top of him as he's moving back. You're on top of him again, but it's blurry, lost in a wave of hazy bliss as his tongue finds yours, muffling your moan. It's sloppy, and maybe you shouldn't like it as much as you do, but it's Eddie. It's more perfect than you had imagined.

His hands roam a bit, curious, finally free to explore like he'd fantasized about a thousand times before, from your neck, a slow crawl down your back, dipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin. When his lips finally graze your jaw, trail down to your neck, your fingers are twisted in his hair, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. Softer, cloying, and shaky. Full of adoration and pleasure.

"Eddie, I love you."

He's not kissing you now, face buried in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the flushed skin. "Fuck, I love you, babe."

Silence settles as you lay like that, neither of you in any rush to end the moment. You'd he's fallen asleep again, his chest a slow and steady rise and fall, if it weren't for the slow circles his fingers are tracing against the bare skin of your thighs.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He hums in response, the sound a ticklish vibration against your neck, a smile pulling at your lips. "I made breakfast for you. It's probably cold now."

He pulls back to look at you, brushing your hair out of your face, tracing a finger across your features, down your nose, over your lips, a barely-there path up your jaw to your ear. "That's alright. That's what the microwave is for."

It's clear he's not getting up right now, or anytime soon as his lips settle in the hollow of your throat, blazing a hot path up your neck, a wet constellation of soft kisses, eliciting a gasp that dies off in a choked groan.

"You can be breakfast instead," he whispers, right before he sinks his teeth in.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

[m-yg93]

Rematch

Pairing: JJK x Reader

WC: 13k

Genre: Smut, PWP

Rating: M (minors dni)

Warnings: Toxic!JK, Mean!Reader, D/s dynamics, teasing, humiliation, praise, degredation, crying, spanking, semi exhibitionism?, oral (m. and f. receiving) butt plug, edging, anal play, face sitting, cuffs, restraints, piercings (nipple and genital), begging, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, pain play, overstimulation

Banner by @introgfx​

Beta’d by @sunshinerainbowsbts​

Summary: Jungkook’s only interaction with you lasted less than an hour but you’ve ingrained yourself in his mind since. You gave him a taste of a dynamic which he now desperately craves more of. If only you’d answer one of his DMs. Guess he’ll have to up his game.

Author’s Note: Okay so Have Mercy was supposed to be a One Shot. Then I decided to make a drabble and now I have 13k. I’m a CLOWN. 🤡 Thank you to my moots who let me ramble on about this brat and encouraged me to write. Special thanks to @audreonne​ for giving me her e-sports knowledge and letting me use her username as OC’s gamertag.

Jungkook is faced with the dark screen of his open Discord DMs with you. Your icon sits at the top of his recent chats but it’s absent from the conversation.

His own stares him down at every attempt he’s sent out. It had started simple enough, greetings and invites to join a game once in a while. He cringes when he sees his words shift to the more desperate tries at catching your attention. He’d even said please and he knows how that’s your favorite word. He knows you’ve seen them, your icon flashing green to indicate you’re online and his heart beating against his ribcage hoping that maybe this time you’ll deem him worthy of a response.

But it stays quiet, as always.

His phone chimes to notify him of new Twitch activity. Audreonne is live! His eyes scramble to the time in the bottom left of his screen. Shit, he’s going to be late. 

He still manages to catch your introduction as he gets into chat. You had your stream schedule posted on your channel and he did what he could to jump onto Overwatch whenever he saw you playing, in hopes that he’d fall into a game with you again, but he’d had no luck so far. 

He’d tried to catch your attention in chat once but a follower of his had also noticed his message and the chat had flooded with messages about him. He’d seen the scowl that settled on your brow when you noticed your chat devolving into chaos. He hadn’t spoken publicly since, but still did his best to watch all your streams, arguably impressed with your skills in not only Overwatch but in various other games you showcased on your channel. 

He watches you get into the game, continuing with Skyrim this time as you were going through a Legendary run. In your first session, you had run straight to the Dark Brother to hunt down the weapon you were setting up your build around, Windshear, and made easy work of any enemies once your One-Handed and Light Armor skills were maxed out. 

Your chat had heavily suggested (i.e. backseat piloting ) for you to go for an Illusion Assassin build but you’d adamantly refused. “I like seeing the kill shots where I dismantle their heads from their bodies.” If hearing that ended up making Jungkook chub up in his pants, that was nobody else’s business but his own, thank you.

You were chatting casually with your viewers, taking recommendations on which quest to do next and which side of the war to support. You’ve never acknowledged his presence in your chat but sometimes you’ve let something slip that makes him believe you absolutely know he’s watching.

“If you kill Paarthurnax you’re dead to me.” Your eyes move to look straight down the camera and his brain whirs to bring up the memories of the last time he was subject to that stare. “I always respect some good restraint.” The lopsided grin that accompanied the remark sent his hand straight around his cock, squeezing to try and keep himself under control. He may be trying to keep his boner at bay but he’s not so lucky with the whimper that slips through his closed lips. 

Maybe you just don’t pay too much attention to Discord. You never stream with fellow gamers so you might not check it as often as he believes. Maybe you aren’t actually ignoring him. He opens a second screen and finds the whisper function. 

A chat window opens up with your name at the top. He can’t possibly come on too strong with just a hello, right? He sees his message appear at the top of the chat.

GoldenJK: hey (:

His attention goes straight back to your stream. You’re in the middle of juggling Voslaarum and Naaslaarum on the frozen lake of the Forgotten Vale when he sees your eyes flicker to something catching your attention on the second screen he knows you have to monitor the stream while playing. It’s quick enough for the two dragons to make you fumble in your attacks and drain a good chunk of vitality from your character.

“Motherfucker,” you mumble under your breath, almost imperceptible to your viewers. You pause the game as a breath of fire is just about to hit your Redguard in the face. “Sorry guys, I just need to fix a setting here that’s bothering me.” It only takes a second before you’re back in the game and both dragons are disintegrating in a shower of light as you soak up their souls. 

He goes back to the open conversation. Had you taken the time to answer him during that pause? There’s definitely something waiting for him in the chat, but not what he had hoped.

This user has turned on “Block Whispers from strangers” in their privacy settings and must start a conversation with you first.

Or maybe you are ignoring him.

Jungkook’s head falls onto his desk with a groan. He’ll have to think of something else in that case.

Fine, so getting your attention one on one won’t work but he can get your attention in a form you can’t ignore. It’ll just take some work but he’s committed. 

It takes some research on his part to see what brings in big viewer counts to stream and he’ll need as many as possible for this plan. He ultimately decides on a charity stream. He gets to execute his strategy to pique your interest and he can help a cause he cares about. It’s the perfect plan and everybody wins!

He sets up to work with Tiltify so stream donations can be sent automatically to his favorite animal welfare charity that supports non-kill shelters in cities with high stray populations. He’s ambitious in setting the charity goal to 100k, but he figures that 1$ for every subscriber he has should be attainable. 

He keeps a close eye on your stream schedule in case of any changes, even though you haven’t changed your streaming hours in years, as he finds out. He puts out the announcement on all his social medias to announce the stream start time while assuring that the 24 hours would end right in the middle of your scheduled Saturday session.

He’s all smiles and high energy when the day finally comes and his chat starts filling up with his regular crowd. He screens through the greeting messages, seeing a lot of comments saying they probably wouldn’t be able to stick around for the whole 24 hours but they are happy he is supporting a good cause and using his platform to bring awareness.

“No worries, guys! I totally don’t expect anyone else to suffer watching their screens for all this time like I am. Pop in and out whenever you want and see what’s going on. I have a rough schedule on my Twitter for times when each game will be played if you’re more interested in some rather than others. Make sure you come back right before it ends to see if we reach our goal! I got Bam from the local shelter in my city, and they were great at taking care of him and making sure I was set up to give him the best possible life, so I want to do what I can to give back in his honor.” 

Perhaps he also needed as many of his viewers active in chat when the countdown ended as possible, but they didn’t need to know that.

“We’re going to start with Overwatch while I’m at my most focused. Alright, let’s get it!”

Jungkook tries to hold back a yawn as the last hour starts ticking down. His desk is covered in opened energy drink cans, making sure to thank his sponsor every time he cracks a new one open. Jin had dropped him off something to eat midway through the stream when his friend had realized the empty bag of chips scattered around Jungkook had been his only sustenance throughout the project. His viewers might have enjoyed his hyung’s loud scolding from the outskirts of the webcam a little too much, but he’s grateful for the food.

His viewers had been enormously generous throughout the stream, and his charity goal currently read $92,515.50/$100,000 in the banner above his head. It probably won’t reach the full 100k but that is still a massive amount of funds he can provide to the organization, and he’s thrilled either way. 

He’d moved on to Stardew Valley, enjoying the quiet farm life to wind down the stream. It was hard to keep his eyes open at this point and he needed something that didn’t involve being on the lookout too much, but the soundtrack is softly lulling him to sleep. 

“Concerned Ape really did amazing on this music. Might just add it to my sleep playlist with how effective it’s being right now,” he jokes with his chat. 

He’s distracted by the countdown clock coming into its last 10 minutes and doesn’t notice chat frantically warning him that he’s about to miss Abigail’s birthday, only taking the time to check and read once he’s already safe in bed and the end of day money count from the shipping bin starts being displayed.

“Oh, no way! I totally forgot it was today. I had the amethyst in my inventory and everything. Man, my gamergirl wifey is just slipping through my fingers.” He throws his head back in a mock wail when the donation jingle brings him back. It’d likely be the last one of the night so it was a good time to countdown to the end of the stream with his viewers.

$10,000 donated by Anonymous

It takes a second for that to register before his mouth finally catches up to his brain.  

“Holy fuck! Was that a typo? Did you hit too many 0’s? Send me a DM and I’ll figure out how to get that sorted for you, dude.” 

He’s still freaking out as the countdown comes down to 0:00:00 signaling the end of the stream but he can’t enact the second phase of his plan without getting this settled first. Another jingle comes in.

$1,000 donated by Anonymous “No mistake. I like animals. Good job on reaching the goal.” 

His chat goes wild as the message confirms the massive donation responsible for getting him to the milestone. He’s out of his chair and screaming, grabbing his Doberman by the front paws and dancing with him around the room. Bam doesn’t understand what the sudden fuss is about but he happily bounces along with his owner. 

The viewer count is at the highest it’s been all stream, well over 50k as his final donation makes the rounds on social media which brings a ton of new viewers in to see the reaction.

“I can’t thank you enough, my guy. I’m so happy we hit the objective! These funds are going to save the lives of hundreds of animals in shelters across the country. I am truly speechless, wow.”

It takes a second for him to compose himself enough to close the games and enact the second part of his plan, the reason this all started in the first place.

“I’m going to do my last good deed of the day before I go knock out so if you guys can stick around just for a minute, I’d really appreciate it. We’re going to send all this awesome positive energy out to another streamer. Make sure you guys stay respectful in their chat, we’re keeping this supportive vibe across to the other stream, please. They’re a really talented player. They’re playing Mario Kart right now, but they are super well rounded and play every game style so there’s something in their channel for every one of you, I’m sure.”

This is it. He can see you’re streaming on your own channel, casually zooming past all other karts as you race down Rainbow Road. He can hear the telltale siren of an approaching blue shell about to blast you and he hopes his chat can make up for the hit. He clicks the button and they’re off as he signals his goodbye.

He watches you groan as the shell explodes over your head and stops your kart dead in its tracks when the message appears on your screen. 

GoldenJK is now raiding with 54,488 viewers!

“Woah, what’s going on in chat? Give me a second.” You’re pausing the game mid race to catch up but there’s no way to read anything as the raid messages flood through the chatroom. “Oh, a raid. Hi guys! From GoldenJK? He just ended his charity stream, right? I popped in, that was cool. Too bad he can’t keep his schedule straight enough on Stardew. RIP,” you laugh.

You knew he was doing the stream? You had watched it. The plan worked! He’d definitely caught your attention and he sits watching his screen like a moron with the biggest smile plastered on his face for another 20 minutes before you end your stream, taking the chain and raiding another streamer you knew well. 

A positive interaction, and a public one at that. His plan had worked flawlessly. He can go to bed happy. He’s about to shut down his PC when Discord rings with an incoming call. He thinks the exhaustion might have caught up to him but when your name is still being announced on his screen after he rubs furiously at his eyes, he’s quick to answer the call. 

“You’re a really persistent little shit, aren’t you?”  You don’t give him the opportunity to even greet you before you jump on him. He’d be upset if you weren’t so right. He did do all of this for the possibility of this moment after all. 

“You weren’t answering my messages,” he reasons. He keeps his voice low and eyes wide knowing damn well he can pass off as sweet and innocent. To anyone else maybe, but you’re too hard to manipulate. Your own eyes squint at his words, an eyebrow raising in defiance at his claim.

“Blowing up my Discord, camping in my streams, distracting my chat. You’re lucky I’m so nice. You weren’t rude so I called off my mods from banning you since you had changed tactics and kept quiet after you realized that wasn’t going to work. You got real close when you started whispering in the middle of a boss battle though. Really testing your limits. All that, and you didn’t think it might mean I wasn’t interested in talking to you?” you counter back.

“I mean, yeah but-”

“No buts. I guess our last interaction wasn’t enough to teach you some manners, kid.” 

Jungkook scowls at the insinuation. Not that he doesn’t have manners, he knows he acts out, but he always gets what he wants so why bother with politeness. “I’m not a kid.” He knows you know that, had first hand experience with just how grown he is. 

“Stop acting like one and maybe I’ll stop treating you like one,” you shrug. You don’t leave him any chance to latch on, simply brushing him off at every turn. He’s never had to chase after someone the way he does you. It’s infuriating, and inexplicably sexy.

“Kept you interested enough to watch my streams though,” he challenges. 

“Stream, singular. I keep track of charity streams. I suppose you could call me a philanthropist. You’re welcome for that, by the way. Couldn’t let the welfare organization suffer at the hands of your failure to meet the goal.” You’re so casual in the mention that it takes a second for your words to fully register.

“That was you? You just have eleven thousand dollars to throw around?” He can’t hide his shock. It’s no small amount of money to be dropping so easily. 

Your actions are calculated as you pick at your nails nonchalantly, shoulders rising and dropping, unfazed. “Let’s just say I don’t struggle with my streaming income. Maybe you’ll get there one day with enough patience, skills, and sponsors. Plus, I got my cat from a shelter so you got lucky and hit my soft spot.”

“Bamie’s from a shelter! He’s a rescue too.” He’s jumping to remind you that you have things in common. 

“Lots of people adopt from shelters.” Your eyes are rolling at his pitiful attempts but you’re here so you might as well find out what he was so adamant about. “What did you need my attention so bad for anyway?” 

Truth be told, Jungkook didn’t think he’d get this far, fully expecting to be faced with a blank screen and more silence. Obviously he knew why he needed your attention so desperately but he also knew you’d immediately drop out of the call if he tried to hit on you.

“Uh,” He’s grasping for an idea, any words to create an excuse for his actions. “Training!” Genius . “Look, I’ll admit you’re a better Overwatch player than me and since you’re also a Widowmaker main you know how to play her really well. I was hoping you could teach me?”

Both your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Huh. That’s true, but I never expected you to acknowledge it. You have a whole team. I’m sure one of them can handle Widowmaker and give you some tips. It’s probably best for it to come from them since they’ll be more helpful for what will work within your established team dynamics anyway.” 

“They can’t!” he exclaims. “None of them really played around with Widowmaker since I was so insistent in playing her myself. None of them know her gameplay well enough. Plus, they wouldn’t push me like I know you would.” 

He’s giving himself away with that last bit of information and you both know it. His mind races to the last time you pushed him and he nearly sneaks his hand down to his cock which is hardening at the memory.

“I suppose I can figure out a training plan to help you out since I’m so generous. Give me some time to set something up and I’ll send you an invite link to log into a private game to give you the rundown.”

“No!” he cries out. “I can’t learn online. I failed all my remote classes at school, can’t focus. We’re both in the same city, right?” As if he didn’t know the answer already. He’d been on your social media for weeks, he knew very well that you were in his city but had nearly zero chance of crossing his path. It was populated by a few million people after all. “Can you give me some in-person training?”

You purse your lips, trying not to let the smug grin escape with a chuckle. “You sure are asking a lot. I’ll make you a deal - you ask me politely and sincerely, and I’ll consider it.” You lean into the back of your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Jungkook might be short circuiting a little bit. You didn’t say no. All he has to do is ask. He can handle that!

“Can you come over and train me?” He’s met with silence and a dead stare. Just enough to remind him that he’s missing the most important thing. “Please?” he adds. 

He’s rewarded with a seemingly sweet smile that he knows hides a much more sinister story behind your pearly white teeth. 

“Such a good boy when you know your manners. Send me your address. Be ready at 7 next Friday. Make sure you clean up. I don’t want to walk into that room with it smelling like a basement, covered in cum-stained tissues.”

He doesn’t have the chance to defend himself and let you know that he obsessively keeps his apartment neat and smelling fresh, thank you very much, before the call drops and he’s faced with a dark silent screen and a lap screaming for attention. 

Jungkook might have overdone it on the cleaning to make sure his place was up to your standards. He had put on his alarm to wake up early and spent the day scrubbing at any surface he could reach. Would you see the top of his kitchen cabinets? Absolutely not. Did he make sure to grab his step stool and eliminate any speck of dust up there? Yes, he did. 

By the time he’s done, his clothes are damp with sweat and his head is dizzy from the overpowering lemon scent of his products. He opens up all his windows and turns on the diffusers in every room. His friends often told him he was excessive in the amount of air purifiers he had in his two bedroom apartment. Sorry if he’s sensitive to smells and wants to be able to breathe properly. He’s rushing to jump in the shower when he finally finishes and notices the time. You’ll be here soon and he stinks. 

He’s in a matching set of soft sweatpants and a hoodie, hands still furiously rubbing at his wet hair with a towel when the doorbell rings. His heart is in his throat knowing that you’re only a few feet away behind his front door. The doorbell rings a second time, breaking him out of the panic-induced freeze he’d been stuck in.

“Coming!” At least, he sure hoped he would be.

He’s steeling himself with one last deep breath before he throws the door open. He has his most charming smile plastered on his face and a warm welcome on the tip of his tongue. All of which immediately dries up and dies on his lips when he’s finally faced with seeing you in the flesh.

All your streams had you in comfortable clothes, soft fabrics and modest necklines but the woman on his doorstep is a vixen. His eyes are pulled down by a gravitational pull outside of his control. They pass through your hair hanging loosely around your face, pausing at the skin of your cleavage peeking through the low cut of your top, flesh straining against the right fabric across your chest. His gaze continues further down to the pleated skirt that ends dangerously high on your leg, letting a smooth expanse of skin catch his attention before it disappears into your thigh high socks. He’s hypnotized by the soft pudge that is created where the fabric of your sock digs into the meat of your leg. His mind is reeling and thoughts of bite bite bite are bouncing in his empty cranium. 

“You’re drooling.” It’s a reflex to bring his hand up to his mouth to check if a little bit of saliva had ended up pooling at the edge of his open lips, but it comes away dry. Just the start of the teasing he knows he’ll be subjected to. 

“I- uh, thighs.” 

The loud laugh that echoes around him finally breaks him out of his hypnosis. “Yes, very astute. Are you going to let me go inside or are you intent on giving your neighbors a show?” His brows furrow at your words until he follows your eyes down to his groin where his dick had started to press against his sweatpants, forming an embarrassing tent.

His hands are quick to cover up, cheeks heating in humiliation. Why is it always so easy for you to get a reaction out of him? You haven’t done anything at all and here he is, boner out for anyone to see like some horny teenager.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, voice quiet enough for it to only be heard between you. He gets out of the way to open up the doorway for you to come in, then closes the door behind you, making sure to check that nobody in the neighborhood had been privy to this shameful moment. 

“I swear I can control myself. I’m not some sort of animal.” It’s only once you’re fully in his living room, eyes drifting to every corner and taking in his space that he notices the black bag you brought along. “What’s in there?”

Your smirk is devious, inching slowly as your eyes darken. “Training materials, of course. You see, I figured out your issue. Your main flaw is your lack of focus and that’s because you’re not actually a gamer, you’re a streamer. You’ve programmed yourself to respond to distractions, like incoming subs and donations so you can reply and interact with your chat. It makes for a good influencer and entertainer, but breaks your skills for whatever game you’re playing.”

“So I have to practice staying focused and ignoring distractions?” he asks. You’re nodding in reply. “Okay, that makes sense. How are we going to do that?” 

There’s an evil twinkle in your eye as you drop the bag to the floor, bending down to rip it open and dig your hand in to pull out your so-called ‘training materials’ into his view. His heart beats a little harder as each item is divulged. 

He’s nervous, he thought he knew what he was getting into by getting you face to face but he should have known better than to think you wouldn’t continue to surprise him. His face goes pale when it dawns on him that the buttplug you pull out isn’t for you as you instruct him to turn around and bend over.

“What?” he asks, eyes wide. “I do the stuffing, not the other way around.” 

Your shoulders shrug, unconcerned, as you make to pack up again. “Alright then. I thought you wanted my help, but I can just go if you’re not going to take my training regiment seriously.” 

“No! I do! I’ll follow your lead.” A self-satisfied smirk is his only response. 

Which is how he ends up bent over his couch, face digging into the cushion, back arched and presenting himself like a bitch in heat. He won’t lie to himself and deny that the warmth of your palm rubbing circles over the curve of his ass isn’t soothing and causing him to melt further into stuffing of the sofa. 

He has almost forgotten the purpose for his position, head floating away into the feeling of your skin on his until the cold sticky feeling of lube dropping onto his hole wakes him from his daze, body stiffening.

“Shhhh, relax sweet boy, I got you,” you comfort from behind him. There’s gentle tight circles being drawn around his rim and he can’t tell if the shiver that courses through him is from the chill of the lube or your praises. A little bit of both, he supposes. You’re careful not to rush him, letting him release the tension before slowly but purposefully applying pressure into your touch until it breaches the tight ring of muscle.

“Ahh!” The noise that escapes him is uncontrolled. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not particularly pleasurable, just odd and unfamiliar. You give him time to accommodate the new intrusion before continuing to burrow until your finger is nestled deep and comfortable inside him. It’s a slow and teasing motion to thrust it out and back in again until it feels right to add in another, the stretch pulling more soft whines from his chest.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling. Just letting me use that tight little virgin hole, hmm?” Jungkook hasn’t been a virgin in years but the idea of allowing you to be the first to defile him in a way sends his brain buzzing. He can’t bring himself to reply with actual words, only incoherent noises falling from his lips as he lets you work. 

You start to pry your fingers apart, letting them stretch him open until he encloses your fingers in a comfortable pressure but loose enough to enact the next part of your plan. “I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? Isn’t this nice?” you ask, voice slipping into a teasing tone.

All he can do is frantically nod at your insistence. It does feel nice. He is starting to think he’ll have to add some fingering into his masturbating routine if it helps make his mind drift off like this. 

“Hold on to something,” is the only warning you give him before curling your fingers and giving a vicious push to tickle at a spot inside him that makes him scream.

“Oh God, FUCK-” His body is pulling away from your fingers, aching to run from the sensation that sends a jolt of electricity down his entire spine. Your free hand comes to grab at his hip and pull him back with a tsk.

“Don’t start acting up already. Grab at the couch if you need to but stay still.” His hands are reaching to grasp the meat of the cushion beneath him, teeth grinding down as you repeat the motion again, slower this time, trembles wracking through him followed by an obscene moan. “There we go. See? You just need to trust me to make you feel good, sweetling.” 

You’re right of course, you always seem to be, helping him discover parts of himself he didn’t know existed. He revels in the feeling, legs turning shaky under your touch, abdomen tightening. He can nearly taste his impending release before you cruelly rip your fingers away, leaving him clenching around empty air and choking on a sob.

“Did you really think you’d be able to sneak an orgasm past me? I do everything possible to make you into an obedient pet and you just prove how much you’re a brat at every turn.” You finish with a sharp spank to his cheeks, redding the skin under your strike.

“No, please! I’m good, I can beg like you like, please!” There are tears threatening to fall from the corner of his eyes at his ruined release, the tension previously building now slowly ebbing away. 

“Hmm, not good enough unfortunately. I’m not completely heartless, I won’t leave you empty.” 

There’s another loud squirt piercing the air and then a splatter of lube lands on his hole, sinking past the muscle that winks at the loss. There’s enough that it drips down to cover his balls, tickling his skin when it continues to flow along the underside of his shaft. He feels a hard pressure behind him again, thicker than your fingers had been. The plug nestles heavy inside him, the girth pushing at his walls but not angled to hit the spot you had been so intent on abusing earlier. It’s a comforting pressure but not enough. 

“What can I do so you’ll let me cum?” he pleads. Maybe he can bribe you into bringing him to completion. Your hand wraps around him and gives a single teasing stroke that nearly makes his knees give out from under him.

“Nuh-uh, time to train now.”

He nods reluctantly, that’s what he had said he wanted after all. You throw something at him. He catches it on instinct, feeling the soft material under his calloused fingertips.

“Put these on and prepare to go live.”

Jungkook’s unsure if the blood boiling under his skin is from the harsh lights of his set up, which makes sure his face cam is nicely illuminated, or if his body is still reacting to the earlier activities. You had instructed him to change the angle of his webcam, so it now focused straight at his face the same way yours did, rather than the previous angle which showed off most of his body, but you didn’t give him the excuse as to why. He knows better than to question you at this point, so he adjusts the angle and starts his livestream as you had instructed.

He’s setting up some solo maps, explaining to chat that he’s working on changing his technique so he doesn’t want to have to work with teammates online. 

He’s squirming in his seat. The solid base of the plug is uncomfortable to sit on and his skin is brushing against the smooth fabric of the lacy panties you had thrown at him earlier. The lace trim scratches at his skin but the silk is soft against his cock, still half hard from the lack of release from earlier. He had thought about refusing to put on the garment but he can still remember the defying glint in your eye as the thought stayed quiet on his tongue.

His mind is drifting away from the game as a particular movement makes the plug brush against his prostate. He’s chasing after the feeling, trying to get it to hit the spot again when the chat catches his eye. 

You good, JK?

You’re looking a little red, dude

Are you sick?

“Ah, n-no, it’s just a little hot in my apartment. I’m fine! Let’s try out these new tactics.” He’s stuttering through replying. Do they know? They can’t possibly know, it’s okay. He’s trying to distract them away from his blushing face because they’re right. He is sick. Just not with an illness, just a sick little pervert. 

He’s trying to focus, really. He knows you’re out of frame, staring down his screen to monitor his actions, judging where he decides to grapple and hide to sneak attack his foes. There’s no reaction from you so he’s unsure whether his new attempts are up to your standards. He knows you wouldn’t make any noise and alert his chat of your presence, but how is he supposed to know he’s making any progress?

On the screen, Widowmaker cleans up her enemies, one kill after another, lulling him into a false sense of security. He didn’t expect the sudden thrum of low but steady vibrations to strike through him. Eyes widening and mouth falling open, his attention is diverted to where you’re hiding in a corner of the room, sitting on a chair, legs casually open, pose relaxed. It’s only now that he notices the little remote in your hand. 

One of your eyebrows is raised as if to dare him to challenge you, so he’s quick to shut his mouth and bring his stare back to his screen. He wonders if his chat can see how tightly his molars are biting against each other at the back of his jaw and the way his ass grinds down into the cushion of his chair.

He should have figured it wouldn’t be that easy.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Eyes in front of him. Fingers carefully poised on each button of his keyboard. He brings Widowmaker to look through the scope of her rifle as he aims to catch the head of an enemy bobbing between buildings far in front of him, and that’s when you strike your own attack, bringing the strength of the vibrations up several notches.

“Ack!” he exclaims, body jumping up in surprise. He’s biting on his lips to prevent any further sounds of escaping but his loss of focus brings his end as he hears the death announcement booming in his ears. The sensations stop immediately.

It takes a second for his heartbeat to slow to a reasonable pace, but it skips when he diverts his gaze to you. only to be met with a sinister smirk. His chat is alight with the sudden change in his vibe.

Is everything okay?

What happened, dude?

“It’s okay, everyone. I thought I saw something on the edge of the screen and got spooked,” he chuckles. It’s a lame excuse, of course. They all saw there was nothing happening on his screen to warrant the alarm but what else was he supposed to say? Sorry everyone, a devilish woman has me wrapped around her finger and her plug? He’d never admit that, even less so to his followers

“Back to it then. I think I’m getting somewhere.” The next game is set up and Jungkook jumps back into it, now more wary of the possibility of being attacked both in game and out of it.

You don’t move for a while. He gets so engrossed in the game and chatting with his viewers that he nearly forgets your presence in the room, like it’s just another stream as usual. 

He’s joking with the chat about a certain move the NPC made that resulted in an easy kill when he senses something brush against his leg under the desk. He doesn’t think much of it, he owns a dog that requires a lot of attention. It’s not the first time Bam came and poked at him during a game. 

Realization dawns on him quite quickly when he feels the hem of his sweatpants being tugged insistently downwards. There’s something, someone, under his desk that is adamant about getting him pantsless. 

He pauses the game and excuses himself to chat. “Sorry, guys. Bam is under my desk and it’s a little distracting.” He’s backing up his chair to get a good view at what’s waiting for him under his desk. He was prepared to see you hiding under there but the view of you on your knees, tucked between his legs, eyes bright and smirk high on your lips still makes an aroused shudder go through him.

“Get out,” he demands but the look you give back reminds him that demands will get him nowhere. “Get out from under the desk, please? ” He’s trying his luck but he knows very well that his requests will fall on deaf ears. Focus you’re mouthing back at him. He tucks his chair back under his desk with a defeated groan. 

“Looks like he’s a little stubborn today,” which earns him a tight pinch to his thigh, answering wince in reply. “I’ll just have to do my best to ignore him down there.” He knows that’s exactly what you want him to do, phase 2 of your evil training regiment he’s sure.

He does try, he swears, but he’d argue that any man with a pretty girl between their legs would struggle to play a damn videogame. He’s missing shots every time your hands stroke his skin a little too close to his groin, and he can’t imagine the scandalous sight you must be faced with as his cock fills out and strains against the flimsy fabric of the baby blue panties you put him in. 

He’s trying not to think about the humiliation coursing through him at the thought of his viewers possibly catching a glimpse of what’s happening under his desk. His cheeks feel awfully warm. He pointedly refuses to check his camera for the proof and ignores the messages in chat that remark about it. 

He thinks he’s not doing so terribly given the circumstances. Not until he feels the warm and wet sensation of your tongue laving against the silk that’s trapping his cock against his stomach. The panties are assuredly ruined between the wet patch where he leaks precum matching where your mouth suckles at the head of his cock through the fabric. It’s impossible to stop the groan that flies out of his mouth. 

“Ah, missed an easy shot there, my bad.” 

Your touch ignites fire beneath his skin and he’s sure his blush is flaming across every inch of his body. Your fingers are so soft where they taunt up the tight planes of his abdomen under his shirt, out of sight from the viewers. They crawl back downwards, catching the hem of the undergarments. There’s wicked snaps where you grab the elastic only to let it go where it hits back against his skin. 

“Shit, off. Take it off.” Thankfully for him, his request passes off as D.Va launches her mech at his character and he manages to avoid the armor hurling into him. He takes the opportunity to strike her down while her defense is low. 

There’s an audible sigh of relief when he finally feels the panties being slowly slipped out from under his ass and down the expanse of his legs to join his sweatpants pooling at his feet. He can feel how hard his cock is, holding shape straight up towards the underside of his desk, desperate for a touch.

You grant it nearly immediately, wrapping your hand loosely around his dick. He wishes he could see how your fingers look around his shaft. Would your hand look small in comparison? Would it engulf his length and shame him? He’s not sure which he’d rather more.

Just as you let your tongue drag from the bottom of his shaft up to the crown, circling the head and slipping it just past your lips he gets shot by an enemy which is lucky as the soft “fuck,” he releases blends easily into the situation. His brow is furrowed as he tries to stay alive both in game and under your touch. Had he gotten the full visual he’s sure he would have ascended to heaven right then and there.

You don’t have compassion for him for too long, though. You’re quick to deliver a powerful suck as you lap your tongue across the slit, hand tightening and stroking downward all at once. His fingers are digging into his keys, letting attacks fire off unwillingly. 

He’s lost the power to be able to win at this rate but as long as he can stay in the game, your own game stays in play as well. His teeth grind down and the grip on his mouse cramps his hand.

Under the desk you’ve fallen into a tortuous rhythm. Hand stroking tightly, up and down, up and down. Your mouth follows close behind it, pulling a strong suck every time the flow reaches back up towards the head. Your spare hand has sneaked its way to his balls, softly palming them with the occasional tug. At one point the heat of your mouth leaves him and he thinks he’s finally been giving respite until he feels the wet muscle of your tongue licking wicked laps at his balls. He thinks it can’t possibly get worse for him but you open wide and sweep up both of his balls into your mouth all while your hand continues its cruel motion over his cock, adding a twist under the crown, little zaps of pleasure hitting him every time your fingers press against the 4 barbells on the underside of his cock. He’s about to fall apart just as you retreat entirely.

His breathing is heavy and he knows it’s obvious. There’s no point looking at chat now, they’re all calling him out for his odd behavior today. He’s using the benevolent pause you’ve given him to strike down a few enemies and catch up where his poor performance left him behind. He’s almost done the round, he can finish this.

The low rumble is back, sending jolts up through his spine. You’re not done with him yet and he’s on the edge of his seat awaiting your next move. Figuratively and literally, his ass had inched its way nearly off the chair as he chased after the warmth of your mouth. Along with the vibrations comes the sting of your nails digging into the meat of his thigh. They’re crawling upwards towards his dick, which is painfully hard and leaking.

There’s clear technique behind how confidently you spear his length entirely down your throat, massaging your tongue against his piercings. His whole body shivers and grows rigid under you. He can feel the muscles at the back of your throat contracting against him, fighting the intrusion but you hold strong. He’s doing his best to fight against the sensation too, waiting to see which one of you two will buckle first. But you have the advantage. 

The vibrations increase again and he loses his nerve. His head bows towards the desk as a loud wail tears its way from his chest. He can feel the hard thunk of his forehead meeting the wood and his hands abandon their spot at the keys to slink under the desk and find home in your hair, fingers grasping at the strands. 

You pull back before he has the chance to let go, another orgasm ripped from under him. His eyes come back to the screen and his chat is going wild at the sudden outburst.  

“You know what? I think you guys are right. I’m not feeling too great. I’m going to end it here for tonight. I’ll be back to my regular schedule tomorrow. Thanks for being Golden!” He quickly tries to get to the end of his tagline before he turns off his programs to end the stream. 

Once he’s sure he’s no longer live, he throws himself into the back of his chair, sending it rolling away from the desk to look at you. Your hair is messy from his tugging and your lips are red and plump, drool falling on his lap and dripping to the floor. You’ve never looked more beautiful and the urge to kiss you has never been stronger.

“Let me come? Please? I’ll beg, whatever you want. Just please let me come.” He’s already begging but whatever you need to hear, he’ll say. 

“Why would I? You stopped training without permission. You never learn,” you rebuke.

“I had to! Did you want me to come in front of all my viewers, huh? I can’t ruin my reputation, this is my career as much as it is yours,” he defends himself.

“Of course not, bun.” Your frame raises from the floor, hands tracing his thighs, up the side of his ribcage, your body bent over his own. One of your hands settles on his cheek, palm curved around his jaw in an uncharacteristic act of comfort, until your fingers dig in a firm grasp to keep him still, his eyes boring into yours. “You’re not allowed to come until I say so. You wouldn’t have come in front of them because you know better, don’t you?” 

He struggles to nod in agreement through your grip, he does know better by now. You’re wrong, he does learn but he’s still not ready to be entirely wrong himself. “Anyone would have crumbled in my place too. Nobody can play that well with a mouth on them like that. I bet you couldn’t either!”

He knows very well that he’s provoked something in you with that wager. “You think I’m weak enough to fall apart because of a little bit of oral? You want to try and prove me wrong, do you? You think you’re good enough with your tongue to make me fail?” There’s arrogance in your voice and he knows it’s far from misplaced, but he’s made his bed and the only option now is to lie in it.

“I do.” 

There’s an audible gulp coming from his throat when he sees one of your eyebrows quirk up. He’d spent enough time watching your streams and studying your gameplay to have picked up that the tic always precedes you doubling down on whichever enemy, NPC or not, that’s managed to piss you off. You raise to your full height, now towering over his body in the chair.

“Kneel.” 

The command is simple and direct. Easy to follow as he slides out of his seat, knees hitting the ground. Your hands inch the hem of your skirt up towards your waist, just enough to slip your thumbs into the waistband and ease your underwear down your legs to let them pool at your feet. Jungkook’s eyes follow the fabric down, brain registering that they look strikingly familiar to the pair he was previously wearing himself. You hadn’t just brought a pair of panties to put on him, you’d brought a pair of your panties and let them rub against him, now stained with the precum he had leaked throughout your earlier teasing. Would you throw them out now or would you keep them? Physical proof of him putting his brand on you just as you’ve branded him in a way with the control you so easily exert over him. 

In his fog, he hasn’t noticed how you’ve turned around to click away on the keyboard, bent over the desk, ass now presented straight in his face. Your pussy peeks from under the curve where your ass meets the top of your thighs. There’s a glimmer of a shine proving that you weren’t totally unaffected by your actions on him. A part of you is still human, no matter how much restraint you’re able to display. 

There’s a deep need in his fingertips urging him to reach out, spread your cheeks apart to get the view he’s craving. He’s aching, from his cock through his entire being, to see the gem he’s been fantasizing about for all these weeks. His fingers twitch at the thought but you turn around just in time to stop him from bringing his hands forward onto your legs. 

His eyes trail back up where your skirt now provides modesty. Modesty which he now knows is but a facade, part of the act. You’re not as innocent as you make yourself appear to your viewers. They’ve been fooled, just as he had during that first game when you two interacted. His gaze falls on the screen. where he can see you’ve now logged into your own account and set up an online game. A slight confusion crosses his mind but the view of his earphones set on your head, microphone adjusted in front of your mouth clears it up. You’re planning on being on voice chat through all of this to prove your point.

You slip past him, back towards your infernal bag of tricks. Jungkook doesn’t see what you’ve come back with since you stop behind him. Your knees are bracing his thighs from the outside as you kneel at his back. He’s sitting on his heels, taking the lower position, head leaning onto your chest. His eyes are nearly turning to the back of their sockets. They’re looking for you, for a clue of what comes next. 

Your hands are flat on his thighs, soft against the hard muscle but nails sharp where they stab into his skin. You never let him forget that you are the embodiment of duality. They tease as they crawl up his lap to his hips, avoiding where his dick lays hard and useless between his legs. He can see that your eyes are trained on it. You’re focused on watching it twitch, unable to calm enough to rest comfortably as it seeks any sort of stimulation. There’s a long string of precum that clings to the head, leaking down his shaft and pooling on his balls. 

“Please,” he asks. Jungkook doesn’t know what else he could ask for at this point. He has no control of the situation. The best he can do is plead and hope you are sympathetic. 

“Oh, baby. It’s not about you anymore now. You wanted to prove yourself so you’ll have to do better than that.” His despair can be tasted in the air around him. Your hands swoop past his cock without a single brush of a fingertip. They take hold of the hem of his sweater and drag the fabric upwards tantalizingly slowly against the skin of his abdomen. “Hands up, darling.” With that his sweater is thrown into an unknown corner of the room and he’s left fully naked on the floor of his gaming room. 

Did he ever expect to be on his knees where he works, under the dominance of a woman at that? No. Can he say he’s mad at it though? Also no. The anticipation sends a shiver running down his spine. Your hands settle on his shoulders and run down his arms. 

“Your tattoos are pretty.” There’s that word again. You’d used it a lot that first time. Calling his tits pretty, his nipples, his cock . He never thought he’d like to be called something so feminine but all he wants now is for you to shower him with compliments, so if pretty is your word of choice he’ll gladly take it. 

Your hands are wrapped around each of his wrists, your fingers struggling to close around them. He doesn’t fight against the pressure of your hold, simply letting you bring them behind him to settle at his back. There’s a thick material wrapping around each of them, closing tightly against his skin. A tinkle of metal as clasps are buckled. A light aroma of leather in the air. Your hands are back at his front, swimming through each bump of his abs and onto the bottom of his pecs, settling to tease between each of his most erogenous zones without giving either of them the attention he craves so desperately. 

With an experimental tug Jungkook confirms his suspicions that his wrists are now bound. Your hair tickles at his neck. Your lips are close enough to nibble at the shell of his ear when you whisper, “If you’re so confident in your skills you’ll only need your mouth, right?” 

Honestly, that’s somewhat unfair.  You’ve been using your hands on top of your mouth to torture him. But he won’t admit to the disadvantage. “Try me,” he challenges. 

“One last thing.” Your fingers make a beeline towards his nipples, twisting the pierced buds. His back flies into an arch, scream high on his lips as he chases after the stimulation he’s been looking for. “That little show last time wasn’t an exaggeration, huh. You really are as sensitive as you seemed. Let’s see if you’re as much of a little painslut as you made me believe.” 

The tinkling of metal is back again. There are two chains in your hands, each with a clamp on one end and a ring on the other. “You even changed your barbells to little rings. Did you hope I’d use something to pull on them? Were you expecting all this? Am I predictable after all?”

Honestly, he just liked changing out the jewelry periodically. He liked how putting in a new piece would burn just a little and make the buds stiff as he pushed the metal through the opening in his skin. Was he hoping that you’d play with them? Of course. He knew that you were so focused on them when he played with them himself the last time that you wouldn’t be able to resist getting your own hands involved. Were you predictable though? Absolutely not. Every time he thinks he has something figured out, you flip the script and send him scrambling. Truthfully, he likes it better this way.

He doesn’t audibly answer any of your questions. He knows they’re mostly rhetorical. You don’t want replies, you just like getting in his head, each slip of your tongue sending his mind spinning. Besides, the soft whimpers and moans escaping him are all you’re truly after.

He can feel the weight of the clamp as you clip them onto the rings that pierce through each nipple. It’s not the direct sting he was looking for but there’s a pleasant weight that tugs them down. The experimental yank you give to each nipple makes his chest reverberate with a deep groan. He can see each of the pebbled nubs get pulled to tear away from his chest, straight outwards as you test the force that you can exert. He won’t give up so easily though, only pleasurable little noises escaping him.

You seem satisfied enough since you let go of the tension of the chains, slipping both the rings onto your middle finger. You take a seat on his chair, not the casual sprawl that he’s used to seeing you in but knees bent under you to leave an empty space directly between yourself and the seat. 

You pat the empty spot with your palm. “Come,” you command, as if calling an untrained puppy to its spot at your heel. Jungkook figures this situation isn’t that far off. It’s a little harder than he expected to crawl to the space between your legs with his hands behind his back, knees dragging along the wooden floor. 

“Good, turn around.” His brow furrows at the order but doesn’t question it. He turns his back to the chair, eyes facing towards the desk, or more so under it from his new low angle. Your fingers rake through his hair, nails scraping deliciously into scalp. He almost lets himself fall into the feeling before you’re pulling at it roughly. You’re dragging him backwards. He expects to fall onto his back but his nape hits the end of the chair, head falling onto the cushion. 

He’s staring straight up at your face. Your body is hunched over him to manhandle him into position. It feels precarious, wheels threatening to roll away and send him hurtling backwards. His back is arched uncomfortably but not in a way that can’t be upheld with a little effort.

Once you seem pleased with his placement, your focus is back on the computer, setting up the lobby. He can’t quite see the screen from this angle but he knows the game starts since you’ve devoted all your attention to what’s in front of you, completely ignoring that he’s just under you, waiting for what comes next.

His questions are answered soon enough when your hand flies across the mouse pad to aim your gun at an opponent, which takes the ends of the chains with it, resulting in a sharp tug emanating from his chest. A loud moan follows and he knows his microphone would have picked that up. 

“None of your business, focus on taking care of Doomfist and less about what’s going on in my room, huh?” Your teammate must have heard the outburst. Well, at least it was nice to know your snark at him during that first game was simply your default setting. 

You must have silenced your mic for a moment because the next thing you say is, “We’re going to have to shut you up, huh?” and he figures that’s not directed to the people on the other side of the call. You’re not waiting for an answer, probably didn’t want one at all but the whine and quick little nods from him just makes you look more satisfied. 

Darkness envelops his vision from your skirt lowering itself around his head but there’s no time to regain his bearings. Dropping yourself onto his face finally gives him his first chance at a touch of you. His hands may be unable to reach out like he’d want but his head lifts to meet you halfway, tongue out and searching. 

He lets you settle fully onto your makeshift seat. He’s relishing in your musky scent. He had imagined how you might smell. Your skin gives off a faint aroma of vanilla which he’s sure comes from a lotion that you must have applied before your meeting, but it’s overpowered by the natural smell of arousal. He can feel the stickiness where it rubs against his cheek and across his nose. 

The pace of him basking in your offering must be too slow for you because he hardly has time to enjoy it when another harsh pull of the chain causes a warm puff of air to flow from his mouth and catch against you. You’ve definitely noticed as the pulse of your core can be felt against his wandering lips. Turns out it’s a lot harder to be skilled when you can’t see where to focus your efforts. 

His tongue acts as his eyes, licking up into warm flesh and looking for your trigger. He’s drunk on your taste, heavy on his lips. Jungkook is self aware enough to know he’s probably eaten more pussy than most and he enjoys it every time but none could compare to you right now. Do you actually taste better than any woman he’s had the chance to have squirming under him or do you simply have him bewitched? He suppose he’ll never truly know, only savoring what he’s given. 

He can still hear you mumbling out commands at your teammates, orders on where to be placed, who to kill. You haven’t given any indication that he’s distracting you at all. He pushes the tip of his tongue into you where it’s the most warm and wet and traces it up the slit up to where he knows is the little button to make you break. He knows he’s landed on your clit when you give a subtle grind into his mouth. 

Lips nibble around your nub, tongue laving tight little circles over it. Your hips are moving across his face. He’s barely doing any of the work as you use him to chase your own pleasure. He awaits to hear your own little cries to betray what’s going on at your end of the call but they never come. And neither do you. He’s putting in effort, pulling all his best tricks that would have any other woman begging for reprieve but you’re largely silent, the only words coming out of you  barks at your comrades whenever a play fails. 

He’s giving a long suck at your clit when he’s surprised with a new, more sadistic pull of the chain. It sends a scream from his throat into your own body, letting it vibrate through your core. He continues letting out sweet little moans to add to the stimulation and thinks this, this’ll do it. 

The brightness of the room is shocking when you raise yourself off his face. The broken sob heard isn’t from the pain that pierces through his eyes at the light but the loss of you. His head is chasing after your taste, tongue still out and reaching. His face is wet, lips from the arousal that has spread and eyes from the frustrated unshed tears that have started to threaten to spill.

“Guess you’re not as good as you thought after all.” You’re taunting him but he’s weak and bites at the bait.

“I didn’t get enough time. Plus you’ve restricted me way more than you had been, it’s unfair!” 

Light peals of laughter fill his ears. You’re mocking him and he’s reminded of the ache in his groin, still hard and so far from release. “Oh sweetie, I played four whole rounds. You had plenty of time. Plus, you needed air at some point.”

Jungkook wants to argue that he didn’t need air, he needed you . Just needs you to sit back down and smother him. If he’s going to die, drowning in pussy sounds like a fabulous way to go.

“It’s not my fault you just aren’t up to the challenge. I hope you learned something about focus through this though. You’ll need it. I’m giving you another chance because I am benevolent.” 

He should be concentrating on the little things he could have picked up on through this torture, but all that’s ringing in his head is that another chance just means he gets to have your hands on him again. His dick twitches at the thought. 

You unshackle his wrist and take off the clamps from the rings. Both areas ache with a delightful pressure, a mild buzzing going through him. You force him to log back into his own account because “I’m not going to let you ruin my stats.” 

He’s back to sitting on his chair, body heavy into the back rest, chest rising and falling in hard pants. The air feels thicker in the room and it’s tinged with the smell of the sex he hasn’t gotten to fully experience. You’re flitting around the room behind him as he sets up his custom lobby again. Once he’s done he turns to see what you’ve been up to, finding that you’ve dragged the floor length mirror that’s usually in his room to lean across the wall behind his chair. Questions arise, but he doesn’t let any of them form into words.

You tug on his chair to put enough space between him and the desk to sneak through. You’re at the perfect height for him to stare right down your cleavage, urging the buttons that keep your blouse closed to pop open. He could use a blessing right about now.

It might not be what he was aiming for, but the universe does reward him by having you climb into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. You hook your chin over his shoulder, chest crushed against his own. You’re soft against him and he seeks more of your delicate skin. His hands gravitate to your ass, palms taking a wide handful of flesh itching to push it down to his lap. 

“You’re not going to win anything if your hands aren’t on the keyboard, brat.” There’s a hand sneaking between the both of you to twist cruelly at his nipple. His hips raise in response to the stimulation, but you’re pulling up and away before he can make contact. His hands are flying off you before you can exert another punishment. It’s torture to bring each of his arms around you and not grab onto anything he can reach. He can’t blame his poor view on why it takes him so long to ready up. He can see the screen clearly over your body, but you’re warm against him and all his cells are screaming touch touch touch.

The game starts and he’s methodical, thinking of each move before he does it. He is seeing some improvement already, reaching areas at a better pace and firing off more accurate headshots than he used to. There are little movements in his peripheral that catch his eye. Your head moves against his shoulder and he feels it. Right there, on his neck, is a little peppering of kisses. Gentle across his skin, hot and wet as you let your tongue lick behind every brush of your lips.

Jungkook’s teeth grind against each other but a soft whine slips around a hum. His head is tilting, bringing the view of his screen off balance, but it’s worth it for the feeling of your teeth nibbling at him in the new space he’s created. He can feel where they dig into the muscle followed by a soft suck that he knows will leave a mark. He hopes you litter the entirety of his neck in deep purple hickeys that he won’t be able to hide, or perhaps show off, during his next stream. He wants you to mark your territory, sending a message to the next woman to hit on him. 

He falters and his character gets hit, but he’s able to dodge the next shot and get out of range. He can grab the health pack he sees not far from his hiding place and it’s like nothing ever happened. You’re just getting started though. Your hips join your plan. They rotate in hellish little circles. His cock is trapped between his abdomen and the fabric of your skirt. He’s leaking but it’s not enough to counter the roughness of the cotton against his skin, all too sensitive now. 

You must take pity on the pained little whimpers he’s letting out each time you swing forward and rub against him because he can feel your skirt being inched up around your waist, now leaving him free to feel the soft wet skin on the underside of his dick. The pace at which you move is excruciating. You take your time angling your hips forward and dragging them up. He swears he can feel your clit pass over each of the four barbells that decorate just under his head. You let the tip push right over your slit, giving him just a second of bliss where he can practically imagine slipping in. You bring yourself back down and repeat the motion in an agonizing rhythm. 

He can barely make sense of what’s going on in the game but you’re quick to remind him. “Approach from the north, grapple to the roof.” He understands the purpose of the mirror now. You’re watching him play. You can see every move he makes, judging his skills and when to strike with your own. 

He manages to tune out the delicious strokes you torment him with for another few minutes. He’s finally gotten into a groove. He’s focused . At least he is until you wait for him to be looking through the scope of his gun, ready to fire an impressive shot from halfway across the map. You’re at the tip of your rotation, the head of his cock enveloped between your folds. He’s got the enemy Sombra in his crosshairs when you sink straight down to the base of his cock, ass fully settled onto his lap. 

If he’s honest Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of noise he lets out. His mind goes blank, vision dark as his eyes clamp close. There’s static in his ears, and the universe falls apart at the seams. All he knows is nothing in the world could feel as good as you do in this moment. His throat feels hoarse at whatever sound was ripped from his chest. He’s panting, breaths coming heavy and quick. His hands have abandoned the keyboard and mouse, now finding their way to grip at your hips, holding you down in fear that you’ll rip yourself away again. 

“Aren’t you going to respawn?” Your voice pulls him from his daze. His eyes find the screen where his character has gotten killed. His hands are shaking as they reach for the keys again, hesitant to leave their perch, but you don’t seem to be going anywhere this time around. In fact, you’re painfully still. Not a single wiggle to heighten the stimulation. He’s unsure if cockwarming at this point feels like heaven or hell but he’ll take whatever he’s given.

He’s careful moving his Widowmaker across the map, skillfully dodging the attacks that come his way with his grappling hook, getting out of the way to take shots from above. There’s a tension in his gut. There’s a knot of stress settling in his throat as he takes aim at each opponent that crosses his path. 

He’s so close to victory. Everything feels tight. Tighter? It dawns on him that you’re clenching. Your walls are pulsing around his dick in a manic rhythm, intent on making him lose both the game and his mind all at once. There’s sweat beading at his forehead from the effort it takes not to thrust up into you. His eyes are closing in a wince, the screen is getting blurry. 

DEFEAT

A loud groan rips itself from deep within his chest. He can’t do this anymore. You win, okay?! He can’t fight against your special kind of torture. 

“I give up! I can’t, please. Fuck! Please, let me come.” 

“Tsk, you were so close.” He knows, trust him, he’s been close this whole time. “I guess I can give you a reward for jumping through the obstacles but you have to ask for it properly. Go on, ask for what you want nicely.” He’s been begging all evening, sweet little pleas falling from his lips at every moment. What more could you want from him? He thinks about your history together and it falls into place.

“Mercy. Have Mercy , please.” 

“Good boy,” you acquiesce. You finally start moving, pumping yourself up and down at a maddeningly slow pace. 

“More, need more- Faster, I’m begging!” There’s no thought behind his words, all imploring whines and requests of benevolence which you grant.

Your spine straightens up to stand tall on top of him, continuing backwards with a hand behind you on his knee to hold your weight. The other gripping at his shoulder for leverage. Your tits hypnotize him, moving in spellbinding circles right in his face from the force at which you bounce on his lap. 

Your new angle allows him to reach between you to grab handfuls of your breasts. He’s itching to get at you through your clothes. He’s not sure if he’s unclasped the buttons or simply ripped them off your blouse but it’s out of the way and that’s all that matters. His hands glide up to your shoulders to slip the straps of your bra down to the crook of your arms, bringing the padding down with them to reveal his prize. 

Your nipples are stiff peaks as they come into contact with the air conditioned room. Tattooed fingers come to wrap around them, squeezing and pulling. He hears your breath hitch and it registers that this is the first pleasurable noise he’s heard from you. It’s barely audible but there’s a moan coming out of your mouth, a moan that’s Jungkook’s doing. The thought sends a wave of heat through his body and he decides that his only mission now is to pull out more of them.

His head dips forward and takes one nipple between his lips. He’s gentle in his licks and suckles but the soft sighs you let out aren’t fulfilling his desires to have you fall apart. He slips the tip of it between his teeth and bites down with a gradual pressure until he can feel moan vibrate through your whole chest. Of course, if you can deal out the pain you’re sure to be able to handle it when it’s twisted back at you. 

He’s rougher with his grip now, sure to leave deep imprints where his fingers poke into your skin, teeth leaving marks as he switches from one breast to the other, making sure to even out his attention. Just when he thinks he’s finally on the same playing field, you make sure to remind him that you’re in completely different leagues.

He’d forgotten all about the evil little remote that you had in your hand earlier but it must have made its way back into your hold because the vibrations are back, strong and insistent. He’s sure there’ll be bruises left where the pads of his fingers dig into you. Eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, head leaving your chest to be thrown backwards, a scream piercing through him. 

“Gonna come! Oh god, please. I can’t hold it anymore. Have to come, please-” His words are slurring together, nonsensical in his begging. The hand that was holding onto his shoulder drags across to settle at the base of his throat. Your fingers mirror his strength and squeeze at each side, effectively cutting off his moan and his air supply. The fear that everything stops again is forgotten when he feels his world shatter. His balls tighten and the knot in his abdomen breaks when his orgasm finally hits. He can feel himself pulsing inside you, painting your walls. 

The pulsing doesn’t end even after he’s emptied himself out. He can feel how tightly he’s wrapped around the plug which is still buzzing away relentlessly inside him. Mixed with the fact you haven’t faltered in your tempo, cruel as you continue the quick up and down on his oversensitive cock.

“Oh fuck- Stop. Ah! Hurts!” He’s trying to slow you down, hands on your hips but you’re stronger than you look and his muscles are slack, still recovering from his climax. 

“Stop? Silly little baby. I haven’t come yet, why would I stop? You’ll be good and make me come, right? I’ll turn it off once you do.” He’s glad your legs haven’t grown tired because he couldn’t match your cadence if he tried. His hips are twitching up at random, little jolts piercing through him. 

He regains control of his hands, bringing one down to where your bodies meet. He can see the creamy white evidence of his release slipping out to smear down his cock, leaking onto his balls every time you bring yourself up only to thrust back down harshly. The sweet melody of skin slapping against each other is mixed with lewd wet sounds when your ass meets his thighs at every smack. 

He files away the view of his tattoos covered in the shine of your mixed juices for later. He hopes he remembers every detail of how you look on top of him, hair mussed, mouth opened, little noises flowing out of your saccharine lips. His thumb finds your clit and he focuses on keeping the pattern of tight little circles around the nub. Constant repetition is the key. 

He’s silently urging you to reach your peak. There’s little tears stinging at the corner of his eyes, the oversensitivity really settling itself into every cell of his body. He’d usually order his partner to come for him, calling their orgasm to spill over but he’s terrified that it’d be misconstrued as an order and you’d hold off simply out of spite. 

He’s just about to start openly sobbing when he feels you tense up. Your legs have a slight shake to them and he assumes he’s being sent to an early grave with the pressure with which you’re choking his cock. He swears he comes again, weak spurts somehow being squeezed out of him. 

The vibrations stop as suddenly as they started and his body goes slack. He almost misses catching your back when your own grows weak over him. He guides you back onto his chest, letting you lean into him for both of you to catch your breaths. 

You’re first to recover, bringing  your head up to face him, your hands coming to cradle under his jaw. Your eyes burn into his, the moment heavy. His voice croaks as he breaks the silence.

“Was I good?” His voice sounds small, insecure and scared. Everyone knows him as a confident man, full of bravado and a reckless love for danger but you manage to turn everything he thinks he knows about himself on a dime. 

It’s the first time he sees a genuine smile grace your face without any of the, admittedly sexy, malice that it’s usually stained with. You’re soft against his lips. Your touch is cautious, letting him melt into the kiss. It’s tinged with an aftertaste of care.  

“Yes, sweet prince, you were good. You do need more practice though.”  

_______________

Masterlist || Have Mercy (on me) 

#ficscafe #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jk #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jungkook smut #jk smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jk fic #jungkook fanfic #jk fanfic #sub!jk #sub jk #jungkook x you #jk x you #sub jungkook #sub!jungkook

[ayyy-pee]

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑾𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒕

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Choso x f! Reader

Summary: Every summer, he's a little taller. Every summer, his voice is a little deeper, a little richer. Every summer he's more handsome. And as you both grow together, so does your love.

A story of love blooming between two individuals over many, many summers.

Chapter Warnings: **Depictions of Drowning** - read with caution

Choso Art By: NC9__

AN: I've been itching to write a Choso only fic lately and I've had this summertime romance fic in my head for the last few days that I thought he'd be good in! It'll be a childhood friends to lovers shortfic (like five chapters) and I hope you all enjoy! Here's the prologue!

**Also while not all chapters contain adult content, the themes of this story are targeted towards adults, so minors DNI please.

You were nine years old when you laid eyes on the ocean for the first time. 

You remember it clear as day, your parents' sudden turn of fortune allowing them to splurge on more luxurious things. Suddenly you were gifted with new toys, new clothes and shoes, new furniture in your home. And your parents…well, they decided to purchase a beach house for vacations. So fun. So exciting. So new. You’d never gone on family vacations before unless it was to visit your grandparents. That was boring. But this…this was something new and shiny and wonderful.

You’d never been so excited to get in the car and go, your mouth moving a mile a minute as you bombarded your poor mother with questions along the way. After many hours of curling up in the car for naps, many pit stops and what seemed like an entire day to your young mind, you finally arrive at your new vacation home. 

Your dad unloads all of your bags as you bounce around the house. It’s homey, comfortable, already furnished and most importantly, you can see the ocean from your living room windows. You watch the waves roll in one after another, barely able to contain your excitement. You beg your parents to take you to the beach, to let you see the ocean as close as you can. After some negotiating (unpacking your bag and a quick snack), your mother rushes you off to the beach, leaving your father to inspect the rest of the house.

“We’ll have a girls day. Just you and me,” your mother beams, holding your hand tight as you descend the stairs from the pier.

There is so much to take in here: seagulls screeching in the distance, the crashing of waves rolling into each other, jet skis zipping past, all new sounds filling your little ears. The graininess of the sand between your toes, the warmth and softness as it runs through your fingers. An hour later, after many sandcastles and moats have been built, you stand where the sand meets the ocean, barefoot with wide eyes drinking in the vast amount of water ahead of you. The soft foam of the rolling water kisses the tips of your toes before crawling back out to sea. 

Your mother has gone to get you both drinks at the boardwalk, the sun finally beginning to drain you both. Before leaving, she made you promise to stay seated under the beach umbrella until she gets back. Any other day, you would listen. You really would. You’d stay glued to your spot, waiting patiently for your mother to return. But this is your first time at the beach. Of course you want to know more about this massive wonder only a few steps away. So your tiny feet inch forward. 

The sudden chill of the water makes you gasp in shock when you feel how much colder it is in contrast to the scorching sand on your feet just seconds prior. It takes you a moment to adjust, shivering slightly as you wade forward. The water soon reaches above your knees, the push and pull of the current sending more shivers up your body as the cold reaches higher and higher. The current pulls and you lose your footing for the briefest of seconds before it pushes you back to standing. You giggle, deciding you love the ocean more than you’d thought.

You wish you knew how to swim. You think you’d swim all the way to where the sky meets the ocean if you could. The horizon. That’s what you remember your mother calling it just earlier when you’d arrived. You decide you’ll ask your mother for lessons when she gets back. But for now, you’ll only go out until the water reaches your waist. That won’t be too bad. You push forward, your heart pounding happily as your little mind rapidly fires off questions you hope to soon have answers to. 

I wonder how much water is in the ocean?

Can I drink it?

What’s that smell?

Why is wet sand so squishy?

What if there’s mermaids?

Or what if there’s a shark?

All of your thoughts are racing through your head so fast, you don’t realize you’re inching further and further, deeper and deeper into the waters. Eyes locked on the horizon, you fail to notice how deep you’ve gone…until your footing is lost beneath you. You feel yourself drop, feet hitting soft sand, your face barely above water enough to breathe but you launch yourself up, gasping in an attempt to get as much air as you can. And then you’re down again, feet kicking, toes pointed to the point of cramping, desperately trying to find the ground again and only sinking further. A dark shadow rises to loom over and you peer up just in time to let out a shrill cry as a wave comes crashing down on you not a second later. 

The first thing you feel is frozen, the sudden iciness of the deep waters shocking you to the point you can’t move. You try to inhale, only resulting in your lungs being filled with fluids. But it’s enough to make you move, your arms and legs thrashing wildly as you try to resurface to no avail. 

You peer up again. The reflection of the sky above waves tauntingly at you, teasing you by being just within arms reach, and still you are unable to get to it. You can just barely make out the rays of sun over the surface of the water, your eyes burning with an intensity you’ve never experienced before in your nine short years on this earth. You wave your arms, kick your legs, try your hardest to get closer to those rays only to feel yourself sinking lower, getting further.

Your lungs are on fire, ears throbbing with the roaring whoosh of water as the ocean pounds against your eardrums relentlessly. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, not even able to enjoy the relief it brings your eyes as you stupidly try to breathe again. You can’t even help it. Your body is doing what it knows to do, what it needs to survive. 

And you, at the tender age of nine, soon begin to realize that even as your body fights, your chances of survival are minimal.

You wish you knew how to swim.

Your head hurts, the pain beginning to seep into your bones as your limbs tingle. Everything hurts as the undercurrent of the waves tosses you back and forth, rolls and twists your body painfully. But more than anything, your heart hurts as your mothers face comes to mind. 

The disappointment and fear she’ll surely feel when she comes back and sees you’ve moved from your place under the umbrella. That you broke your promise to her and now you’re nowhere to be seen. 

You see your dad’s face, twisted with agony when he gets the news. 

Even as your nine year old heart comes to terms with your impending demise, you can only wonder if your mom will be angry with you. You hope she won’t be. You hope she’ll know how sorry you are. That you should have listened. You should have stayed.

You wish you knew how to swim.

The burning in your lungs subsides. The muffled noise of breaking waves fades. And your mind stops racing. Your mind just…stops altogether. There are no thoughts lingering in your head, no more fear, no more pain. You’re just there, floating in the abyss. 

And then you feel it, a lifeline hooking itself quite literally to your shirt, yanking you up and out of the depths below and guiding you roughly to the surface as the ocean tries to drag you back. You feel the rays of the sun warm your skin again, the heat radiating all the way to the marrow of your bones. The gusts of wind slapping against your face quite literally revive you; a visceral cough racking through your body. It’s disgusting, putrid, all the salt water stinging both your throat and your nostrils as you retch, gag and expel the remnants from your body.

You feel your back gently hit the sand, someone’s small hands holding your face as they hover over you. You can’t see straight, your vision blurring as you squeeze your eyes open and shut to rid yourself of the salt water still assaulting your corneas. 

Whoever is holding you is talking, but it’s muffled. You can barely make out anything they’re saying. They’re holding your hand, pressing their ear against your nose, talking to you and you can just make out a “someone’s coming to help you”. Then there’s another person crouching next to you. They grab you, pulling you to them, holding you so tight you almost feel like you’re underwater again. And it takes no time at all for you to realize it’s your mother: the familiar warmth of her body, a heartbeat you’ve known since before birth. There’s no doubt in your mind it’s her. She’s not angry with you like you thought she’d be but you can hear the fear in her trembling voice when she speaks to the person you assume saved you.

Your mother swipes at your eyes and your vision clears, your gaze focusing only on her. Then she dips her fingers into your ears and you feel the water spill from them, her voice becoming clearer. Next to you, the person who pulled you from the water speaks, voice soft as they ask if you’re alright.

You tilt your head from your mothers chest to give a tiny nod. With clear eyes, you can finally see their face. It’s just a boy, a kid maybe your age or a year older. He’s got wide brown eyes that stare straight into yours as he inches closer to you and your mother. His dark hair is wild and unkempt, tied up in two pigtails. Even wet, they poke out every which way. 

“You almost died,” he gasps, not bothering to filter himself. “You gotta pay attention out there!”

“You saved her?” Your mother asks, and you can hear the shakiness in her voice still. The little boy nods.

“Yep! Me and my brothers were playing over there–” he points off to the side where two younger boys and a small baby sit under a large umbrella. 

“What’s your name?” Your mother questions.

“Choso,” the boy answers with a wide grin. He’s got a large gap where one of his front teeth should be and it makes you smile. “I take care of my brothers when we come to the beach, so I’m always watching to make sure they don’t get hurt. I saw a wave take her under so I went to help and–”

He’s cut off by your mother suddenly yanking him into her embrace, squeezing you two together tightly. “Thank you,” your mother sobs into his hair. “Thank you so much. You could’ve died, too. You have to be careful, too. Both of you. You have to be careful.”

She holds him and you to her chest, sobbing in joy and relief that you are both okay, both safe. You feel strange, your mom cradling you in one arm and this stranger you just met two minutes ago in the other. But your eyes find Choso and he doesn’t seem to be sharing the same sentiment. He looks shy, embarrassed, his cheeks a bright crimson as your mom continuously thanks him for saving you, calls him your guardian angel.

His gaze meets yours, brown eyes swimming with what you think are tears and he gives you a shy smile that you just as shyly return. You know from that moment that you will be seeing Choso again. And though the day did not turn out as expected, when you crawl into bed that night and replay the events of the day, you think the day turned out even better. 

You think back to the look on Choso’s face when your mother held him, thanking him profusely. She wanted to meet his parents to thank them as well, and was surprised to know that his mother and father were not around much and so the brothers entertained themselves for the most part. This wouldn’t do, so your mother took him and his brothers home after treating them to dinner. You think about the tender smile Choso gifted you with when you agreed to come back to the pier to play with him and his brothers later in the week. Yes, you could say today was a good day. And you were hoping to have many more with Choso.

You were nine years old when you laid eyes on the ocean for the first time.

And you’d almost died.

But you were also nine years old when you were saved from that same ocean. 

And you laid eyes on the love of your life for the first time.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo fic #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x y/n #anime x you #anime x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #anime fanfic

[crow-quills]

Nightmare's Grace

Misuta (Ghost in the Machine)/Reader

Summary: Nightmares have become a familiarity to you, though that doesn't mean they're any easier to deal with. Misuta finds his own way to distract you from your frayed nerves late one night.

Trigger Warning(s): None

Rating: T, SFW

Word Count: 1,476

Notes: Ghost in the Machine and Misuta both belong to @venomous-qwille. Some may already be familiar with this piece if you're in the discord server.

You'd lost track of the time long ago from when you first checked it after being wrenched from the tangled grasp of a nightmare. The clock's numbers that had once seared itself into your mind when you first checked your phone was nothing more than a bleary remnant chased away by the steady throbbing behind your temples.

You couldn't say for sure just what drove you from your slumber, only having a vague recollection of a nightmare that once dug its icy claws into your mind. A fading memory turning to nothing more than a ghost, faint and wisping out of your grasp like smoke whenever you try to grab it.

Chasing it is a lost cause at this point though it doesn't negate the dread that has lodged itself in your gut like lead - heavy and unsettling.

Hunched over the kitchen table you try to dislodge the lingering, unnerving feeling within your body from something it can't even remember. At the very least the dim lighting of the kitchen doesn't aggravate the pain blooming within your head, though it doesn't soothe it much either. Eyes screwed shut, you raise a hand to card through your hair with a steadying breath, contemplating whether you should call it a night or bid any further rest goodbye and get to work.

"What are you doing up, Hoshiko?" Misuta's soft voice draws you out of your deliberation. The moon themed animatronic lingering within the kitchen doorway with the fur of his hood shadowing his face. Startling magenta eyes staring at you from beneath it, softened with a mix of confusion and concern.

His eyes flick over your form for a minute, hunched at the table and abandoned drink beside you. Biting your cheek for a moment, you break the gaze you shared with the bot as you shift uncomfortably. "Couldn't sleep," a weak excuse even to your ears as you try to ignore the way Misuta's examination sends a prickle down your spine.

The quiet thud of heavy booted feet sound out and grow closer as he steps further into the kitchen to come up behind you. A hand finds the center of your upper back, resting against it in a barely there touch, as if worried you'd startle from anything heavier. Gingerly, after a brief moment you can feel his thumb move, rubbing circles into clothed flesh. He's silent now, but you're well aware he's watching you carefully.

A broad palm presses further into your back a coolness seeps through the fabric of your shirt and serves as a balm on your frayed nerves more than you'd care to admit. "Restlessness or bad dreams?" Concern bleeds into his tone and stands out amongst the softness of his voice as he finally shatters the temporary lull.

Resisting the urge to cringe at how close to the mark he was you simply shrug though the motion isn't enough to dislodge his hand.

"It's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine." You don't want to look back at him, to see whatever expression may have etched itself upon his face. Staring into your forgotten tea, you opt to study the liquid instead as your tongue presses against the back of your teeth. His thumb stutters in its measured movements, telling you enough about what he thinks of your attempt to dance around the subject of whatever ails you.

For a heartbeat of a moment, worry bites at your mind that he'll probe further on the subject. Instead the questioning never comes as he simply slides his hand up to the right to clasp your shoulder. A tender squeeze follows the gesture as he mumbles something that you don't quite catch, but can only assume it's meant to be comforting.

At least, you hope it is.

Not knowing what to do with your hands you grab your abandoned cup, fingers wrapping around it tighter than you intended. Drawing it to your lips you try not to grimace as the liquid graces your tongue, the warmth having fled from it long ago.

"I'm alright, I promise," your own reassurance sounds almost fake, even to you, as the cup is lowered back onto the table with a solid sounding clink.

A noise resonates within the voice box of your companion, one you can't quite place the emotions behind, as his hand suddenly draws away. A phantom trail is left behind as his fingers linger longer than needed when he pulls away. Rolling back your shoulders, you sit up straighter now trying to compose yourself from the half curled position you once were in.

You intend to dismiss yourself, to evade and hide from any further questioning on just what drew you down here in the middle of the night. However, the sight of a familiar hand held out in offering, filling your peripheral vision, catches you off guard and gives you pause.

Misuta's palm held out and upturned in an offer you're unsure the intention of. Glancing up at his face to read his expression, you see only a soft look of encouragement which is enough to spur you into action.

Placing your hand in his - almost dwarfed in his hold - his fingers curl to fully clutch yours with a surprising amount of delicacy behind the action. Gently, he guides you up to stand without a hint of hesitation in his movement as his free hand moves to your hip, grasping it lightly. The closeness of his body combined with the strangely intimate feel of his touch baits a heat to rise to your face and causes your gaze to drop away from him.

"Look at me, Hoshiko," imploring and soft, the hand he once clutched your own with slips free in favor of rising up. A knuckle comes to lightly tap the bottom of your chin in an attempt to draw your attention once more. The draw of him and the action is hard to ignore. Without thinking you find yourself lifting your head to meet magenta eyes softening at the bone deep tiredness you know must show on your face.

Content, his hand moves to cup your cheek as the pad of his thumb swipes beneath your eye. Gentle as it tugs at the skin, mindful of his claws, tracing the darkness underlining it as worry pinches the corners of his mouth. "You're not getting enough rest."

The worry laced within his tone sparks a defensiveness within you that's spitting like an irate cat. Protest bubbles up in your throat, though its quickly smothered as the hand at your face shifts to swipe a stray hair out of the way. Claws gently grazing against your heated skin as he follows the shape of your face to the curve of your ear.

Mapping out a path as cool digits trail down along your neck, faint and light as he grazes over your pulse, skimming over your shoulder and down your arm. Tentatively, his fingers press into your palm as they slide down to interlock your fingers. Palm against palm, he draws your arm up to bend at the elbow - held out to the side.

The hand at your hip moves, sliding along to curl at your back, resting against the small of it in a brace. His hold, sturdy and pulling you tighter against his form, but with enough give to allow you the freedom to slip out of it. "It's just us, you're safe with me," his voice low and warm, the consolation accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your entwined hands.

He takes a moment to scan over you in search of something - what exactly you're not sure of - but he seems to find it quickly. Tucked against him Misuta steps back with you in tow, not seeming to mind the brief stumble you experience with the sudden movement. Jacket sleeves swaying with the motion, he moves slowly as he guides the two of you back a few steps before moving forward again.

A dance, you come to realize as a hum rumbles from his voice box, a slow tune you can't quite place. Slow steps bringing you around into a circle following his voice as he keeps you steady.

It's a distraction, you know it is.

His own attempt at pulling your mind away from whatever troubles you no matter how unknown it is to him, however it's one you'll indulge in for now. Falling into the rhythmic pattern he sets is easy to do with little worry as you tuck your head against his chest. The melodic hum of his voice box echoing against your ear in a mingled noise of the quiet ticks and clicks of the mechanics hidden within his chassis.

An idle thought of comparing it to a lullaby flicks through your head as he takes you into another turn.

#crow's pen #ghost in the machine #misuta moon #misuta gitm #misuta x reader #gitm y/n #regular tags outta the way time for actual blog organization #au content #au: ghost in the machine #gitm: misuta #ship: y/n x misuta #if you read this far hi don't mind me possibly working on posting my drabbles here #no guarantees everything will end up here but might as well start with this one since I'm the most proud of it #queueing this then scampering away to forget that I posted it lmao #also if anyone asks its rated T mainly just cause of the nature of gitm

[spectralreplica]

Saioumota vtuber AU! (My full piece from @saioumota-zine​ )

Also included are the full designs and the Discord icons. Kokichi’s account is the one shown, so it was fun to think of what people he’d be friends with and what kind of servers he’d be in. (I’m not saying they all met in a Terezi fan server in this AU, but I’m not not saying that.)

The conversation they’re having on Discord is basically Kaito having bad wi-fi, Kokichi claiming to have cursed him, and Shuichi offering sympathy and trying to point out something on screen. I imagine they all commissioned Angie for the art in universe, but here in our world, I had loads of fun trying to make the art styles distinct 😁

Official names:

Kindaichi Satoki / 金田一 悟記 Surname: reference to famous fictional detective Kindaichi Kosuke Given name: enlightenment/perceive/realize, account/record (also, sounds like Satori)

Amateur (?) detective with a suspicious amount of anime and game knowledge for someone who claims to only read detective novels and true crime. Audience is split on whether the stories they tell about cases are based on something the real person behind them actually experienced or are totally fictional/references to media.

Inexplicably amazing at racing games. Banned from werewolf/mafia-type multiplayer games for being too good at guessing the bad actors.

Yamiochi Makiko / 闇落 魔鬼子 Surname: fall to darkness/heel turn Given name: demon, ghost, child (also, same first kanji as Maki)

Daughter and heir to the demon king who refers to all followers/subs as minions in her evil organization. Possibly also a clown? Only plays games on hard, and is apparently pro-level at chess. Really wide range of expressions, especially creepy ones!

Accepts Yamimaki and Kiko as nicknames, but not plain Maki. There is some Other Maki who never appears and is only referenced ominously.

Nanase Stella / 七星 ステラ Surname: seven stars/Big Dipper Given name: Latin for star

Alien visiting Earth for the first time from another galaxy. Inexplicably speaks Japanese, English, and Russian despite this. Chat streams rebranded as “Let Me Tell You About Space!” because that’s most of what happened anyway, but she’ll still give advice/encouragement if someone asks.

Consistently terrible luck, both in games (random chance= worst outcome 100% of the time) and out (wi-fi has issues constantly, streams glitch out in ways that seem impossible). Official explanations offered: 1) Attacks from enemy aliens who want to destroy Earth. 2) Cursed by Makiko with a million years of bad luck.

#Saioumota #Oumota #Saiouma #Oumasai #Saimota #Shuichi Saihara #Kokichi Oma #Kaito Momota #New Danganronpa V3 #Danganronpa #Spectra Art #Spectra Port #Zine

[fourbrickstall]

Teamed up with Jay from Jay's Brick Blog to bring medieval LEGO fans this build + photo contest where we've got all sorts of medieval themed sets at stake!

Build a market stall or create a minifig townie then take a photo (outdoors ideally) to enter.

Build, shoot, then post on my Discord or r/studshooters on Reddit.

Details are here:

#lego #lego castle #lego photography #studshooters

[buntress]

𖤐•°𐕣 Fallen Angel ID Pack 𐕣°•𖤐

[PT: Fallen Angel ID Pack]

Req By :: Anonymous

𖤐•°𐕣 𝔑𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𐕣°•𖤐

[PT: Names]

Abaddon // Abel // Adam // Aether // Amon // Angel // Angelo // Ariel // Ash // Astrid // Axel // Azrael // Azazel // Baal // Beatrix // Beelzebub // Beleth // Belial // Cael // Cain // Castiel // Celeste // Chemosh // Dagon // Dara // David // Dina // Dumah // Evangeline // Eve // Ezekiel // Gabriel // Ian // Iblis // Jeremiah // Laila // Levi(athon) // Lucifer // Michael // Malaika // Moloch // Nathaniel // Orias // Phoenix // Qemuel // Raziel // Rosier // Saleos // Samael // Samuel // Solas // Tamiel // Theo // Uriel // Val(efor) // Xaphan // Yael

𖤐•°𐕣 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔰 𐕣°•𖤐

[PT: Pronouns]

Ae / Aem / Aer / Aerself || Aeth / Aether / Aetherself || An / Angel / Angels / Angelself || Ar / Arch / Archs / Archself || Bea / Beast / Beasts / Beastself || Cae / Caem / Caes / Caeself || Che / Cher / Chers / Cherself || Da / Dark / Darks / Darkself || Dae / Daem / Daer / Daemself || Dei / Deim / Deis / Deimself || Dove / Doves / Doveself || E / Eden / Edens / Edenself || Ely / Elym / Elys / Elyself || Ha / Lo / Halo / Haloself || Hy / Hymn / Hys / Hymnself || La / Lamb / Lambs / Lambself || Mon / Mons / Monself || Om / Omen / Omens / Omenself || Sai / Saint / Saints / Saintself || Ser / Seras / Seraph / Seraphself || Sin / Sins / Sinself || Smy / Smite / Smites / Smiteself || Throne / Thrones / Throneself || Wi / Wing / Wings / Wingself || 🕊️ / 🕊️s 🕊️self || ☦️ / ☦️s / ☦️self || 🔥 / 🔥s / 🔥self || ❤️‍🔥 / ❤️‍🔥s / ❤️‍🔥self || ⛓️ / ⛓️s / ⛓️self

𖤐•°𐕣 𝔗𝔦𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰 𐕣°•𖤐

[PT: Titles]

The Fallen One // The Unholy // The Corruption // The Revanchist // The Once Divine // The Corrupted Purity // Hy Who Fell From Heaven // Their Corrupted Purity // The Corrupted One // Dae Who Was Divine // The Corrupted Lord/Lady/Leige // One Of Hell's Court // Creator Of Discord Upon The Divine // The Sinner // The Disgraced // The Hellish One // It Of Corrupted Light

Note :: All pronouns can be replaced with whatever pronouns you prefer!

𖤐•°𐕣 𝔏𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔰 𐕣°•𖤐

[PT: Labels]

Aldertatterwingic // Angelius // Angelx // Anniople // Bewolkian // Bloodywingial // Brokenangelic // Brokenwingsdernic // Caninelenel // Corruptangelic // Crucifingelic // Darkangelcoric // Enfealian // Fallangelcoric // Fallenangelaesic // Fallenangelfangic // Fallenangelmoth // Fallenangelsproutaen // Fallencosmica // Fallenlexic // Fallenlovic // Fallenpridic // Guardilenel // Impurfallangelic // Ingeluse // Lovefangel // Nauticheric // Nosaboy // Purleydemonit // Relingelus // Serafernal // Seroanus // Unholy Omninoun // Vengefangel // Villangelgender // Viongelic

Note :: The first letter of each label is a link to the post coining it!

#🗡️ :: ID Packs #xenogender community #xenogenders #xenogender #mogai #mogai label #mogai safe #mogai community #liom safe #liom friendly #endo friendly #mspec friendly #ID pack #fallen angelkin #angelkin #demonkin #demongender #angelgender #fallenangelgender #xenogender help #mogai help #neopronouns #angel neopronouns #demon neopronouns #name help #name list #pronoun help #title help #title list

[shelaghdette]

ctm s13e06 thoughts (spoilery, sweary, sleep deprived, scottish)

actual pisstake. frothing at the mouth. rabid. feral. unhinged. not being normal.

first of all, the episode.

matthew aylward is an absolutely abhorrent fiend. every single time his face showed up on the screen, me & my pals on the discord server were POURING abuse into the chat. callin this man the worstest names in the world. truly the minginest bloke ive ever seen. imagine shouting at my best pal trixie franklin (who is your beautiful gorjiss wife) just because she tried to help solve a problem YOU created. DIAF matthew aylward.

AND NOW APPARENTLY NONNATUS HOUSE ISN'T SAFE FROM CLOSURE BECAUSE TRASHTHEWS STUPID ARSE IS LOSING ALL HIS MONEY?? TAKING THE PEE EYE DOUBLE ESS ON THAT ONE MATE. NOT HAPPY. THE YOUNG LASSIES (WHO ARE PROBABLY ABOUT THE SAME AGE AS ME) HAVE ONLY JUST GOT THEIR PERMANENT JOABS AND NOW NONNATUS COULD BE CLOSING??? LIFE RUINING

speaking of new faces, love aw the wee pupil midwives passing their exams!! so excited to see wee rosalind and wee joyce as permanent staff at nonnatus!!!

speaking of the pupils, THEY ARE TRYING TO SET UP A ROSALIND/CYRIL ROMANCE STORYLINE AND IM NOT HERE FOR IT. ROSALIND CLIFFORD IS QUITE OBVIOUSLY A BABYGAY AND SHES IN LOVE WITH JOYCE HIGHLAND. STOP MAKING PEOPLE STRAIGHT HEIDI. BE BRAVE AND BOLD AND CATER TO THE SAPPHICS HEIDI. WE HAVEN'T HAD CANON LESBOS SINCE PUPCAKE HEIDI. WE ARE STARVING AND MALNOURISHED HEIDI.

speaking of cyril tho, he's an absolute legend and was serving so much cunt this episode. 100% lad. love how nice he was to the poor irish wummin & her barins.

also doctor turner talking about his old arthritic knees like he doesn't know what a temptation that is for me as a recovering dilf addict. scrum diddly umptious. i had to go and have a lie down and a valium after that blatant and violent assault on my mental health.

speaking of scrum diddly umptious and the turners, costume designer putting shelagh turner in lesbian flag colours THE ENTIRE EPISODE and teasing all the gay lassies who have taste? cruel and unusual punishment. i fancy her so much. at least it was acknowledged how bonny she was in this one (and every one) (cheers sister v you queen)

speaking of the turners also, it's fabulous to see all of my stepchildren safe and well, especially my best and favourite wee lassie may <3 i know we're probably coming up for some pretty harrowing stories about her, so it was awfy gid to see thon wee smile for a moment.

finally: loved seeing sheelz in her element on the old johanna whacking oot the jesus bangers wi the local weans SING HOSANNA SING HOSANNA SING HOSANNA TO THE KING OF KINGS!! GIVE ME OIL IN MY LAMP KEEP IT BURNING 🔥 🕺🏼💃👯‍♂️

fuckall but slay.

not about this episode but my very final thought: WHAT THE ACTUAL SHITTING FUCK DO YOU MEAN WE'RE NOT GETTING CTM NEXT WEEK BECAUSE OF THE BAFTAS. WHO GIVES A RATS SMELLY ARSE ABOUT THE BRITISH ACADEMY FILM AND TELEVISION AWARDS. WHO EVEN WATCHES THEM. EVERYBODY LOVES CTM. LITERALLY EVERYONE IN THE WORLD. I DON'T KNOW ANYONE WHO EVEN KENS WHIT THE BAFTAS ARE AW ABOOT.

god bless my ctm luvvas. catch yis aw in a fortnight. big kissies to all (especially my wifey sheely turny)

#call the midwife #roo speaks absolute shite

[officialgleamstar]

would anyone wanna hear my thoughts on how well suited grant would be for every single ranger subclass? yes? okay awesome because i already spent 20 minutes writing it all out on discord then realized i could post that on tumblr for attention

general notes: i am, lightly, in the camp that grant shouldn't be a ranger. i think fighter or rogue would have been just fine for a shooting build and would have made more sense, i really would have liked to see him as an artificer because that would be so cool, and i think just doing the critrole gunslinger handbook would have been the smartest move, even if it isnt quite made for snipers afaik. grant would have been a terrible gunslinger stats wise, assuming from what we've seen (he's mentioned as being the strongest kiddad in this episode which isn't optimized for gunslinger), but it still would have made more sense to me. also lark should have been a ranger. regardless! grant is the ranger, and rangers are one of my favorite classes in base d&d, so i am going to infodump now

Beast Master - Severely unlikely considering Grant isn't shown to have any animal companion. Also Linc would be furiously jealous. 0/10

Drakewarden - Also severely unlikely for the same reasons as above, but I think it would be really cool. Give Grant a dragon pleeease. Linc would still be furiously jealous though. 2/10

Fey Wanderer - Unlikely since it's more Wis/magic-focused than a traditional fighting ranger build. Grant is not a wisdom/charisma guy, he is a 'shoot people' guy. 0/10

Gloom Stalker - Not one of my top three, but one that I REALLY LIKE for Grant. The emphasis on ambushing and the idea of disappearing into the background fits snipers well, and I think the... edginess LOL just suits him. It would definitely set off his "I'm evil and terrible forever and nothing can change this" intrusive thoughts if he had magical blend-into-the-darkness powers. This is what I like to headcanon Lark as having generally, but I think if Grant is the ranger of the group, then it works for him really well. 7/10

Horizon Walker - This one is, if Lark was also a ranger, what I think Lark would be canonically. Once again, this means it also works for Grant. It's more likely to me than Gloom Stalker since Horizon Walker has a lot of focus on swapping planes, and that seems to be something that the kiddads put a LOT of focus on. It also deals heavy damage, which is fitting for Grant. I can see Anthony flavoring Distant Strike as a sniper shot purely based on the name then realizing his mistake later and pretending he was right anyways. (Additional note: This is what Taylor is, which I forgot until I googled it after writing this whole long post! Good job Freddie, I did not have faith in you to make that good of a decision (joke)) 8/10

Hunter - What is most likely because it is the most generic ranger. Anthony will never think about this as much as I do. It's also good for taking lots of damage, which doesn't make sense for a sniper but I think fits Grant's general vibe of being the toughest of the kiddads. 10/10

Monster Slayer - Just Hunter but without the flexibility. So once again, makes sense, and since it's suited for archery builds, that makes it even more fitting since it can even replace the Sharpshooter feat in some ways. 10/10

Swarmkeeper - Extremely unlikely but it would be so funny and also MADE FOR ME because this is my favorite ranger subclass. Come ooon Anthony, give my silly little guy a swarm of bees or something. 0/10

#dndads #dndads s2 #dndads spoilers #grant wilson #grant li wilson #mine #I REALLY. LIKE RANGERS. #i did this for sparrow too btw but thats not as thought out LMAO

[jaypea00101010]

The Priest Class Update!

The 'Truth and Lies' Update

Level 1-17 Playtest - V1.0

For people who haven't seen before, priest is a point-based, divine spellcaster, with a big focus on customisability

You can choose:

What your casting stat is (Int/Wis/Cha)

Your Method of Worship, a subclass that augments spellcasting (Prayer, Sacrifice, Song, Spirit, Study)

Your Divine Calling, a second subclass that impacts your general playstyle (Cultist, Judge, Oracle, Truthseeker)

Your Deity's Domain, a small expanded spell list with a bonus feature, as you level you gain more and can channel a different one each day (16 options currently)

The document also contains a bunch of spells, and a feat to let you tap into the power of the priest!

New to this update are level 14 features for all Methods of Worship, the Trickery Deity's Domain (as voted on by members of my Discord Server), the Truthseeker Divine calling, and the 8th and 9th level spells for the class!

If you want to keep up to date on teasers, help shape the design going forward, and/or vote on future inclusions, come join the Discord!

#d&d #dungeons and dragons #dnd homebrew #homebrew #5e homebrew #dnd5e #dnd 5e #dnd #ttrpg #fantasy #jay's brewery #priest class #d&d homebrew #homebrew class #dnd class #dnd classes #cleric #dnd design