#you are not /just/ the patterns or /just/ the thread holding them together

[starheirxero]

I had a vague, kinda nonsensical line come to mind when I was thinking about Eclipse a while ago where he says "If I'm just a mesh of other people, what does that make me? The stitch or the space between?" and upon thinking about it again, in a very Lunar-like way my brain just announced "QUILT." and now I'm actually like sorta obsessed with the metaphor presented here NDJANDJS

#xero says things #xero thoughts and rambles #like. #you are not /just/ the patterns or /just/ the thread holding them together #you are a quilt. #you are undeniably /both/ #and that has allowed you to be defined as something new entirely. #you are both. you are a quilt. you are your own individual. #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #sams eclipse #eclipse

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#shut up e #long post #Saturday thoughts #this has been in my drafts for a week haha #also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong #forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong #because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation #even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it #unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???

[alcorian]

fyi punk should be diy. if any of my followers wanna dress punk but feel like they cant because its expensive, here's the secret: a good punk look can and should be made out of literal junk. old bottle caps, safety pins. i recently asked my sister if she'd give me some spare key rings so i could join them up with mine and make a longer chain (its attached to my favorite pair of pants rn). if something doesnt feel shiny and pointy and punk enough, stab it with some safety pins. make your own patches out of spare fabric scraps. cut the logos and patterns off of shirts and turn them into patches. pick up some cheap basic embroidery stuff (thread, needle, bamboo ring, thats all you need--hell you dont even need the ring its just helpful) to sew your patches on & make some of your own. or just embroider right on your clothes! it doesnt have to look good. most real punk patches are self-made with wonky lettering. you can get a good leather jacket, denim jacket, vest, etc at your local thrift store. you can try chains like savers and you can try non-chain shops. (btw thrift shops arent just for clothes, theyre lifesavers in general. i got my favorite table for $15 at savers. its old and ornate with carved designs and shit. please shop at thrift stores theyre the best thing ever.) also, when i was younger i remember i made my own spiky bracelets out of studded ribbon (cheap, get it at joanns or some other fabric or crafts store) and safety pins to hold it together. dont waste money on fucking hot topic. you can make your own shit. thats what punk is all about. i promise anyone judging you for having handmade punk clothes and accessories is a fucking poser.

#alv posts #punk #alt subculture #alternative fashion #alt fashion #punk fashion #diy #punk inspiration

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, lingerie, allusions to oral sex(F), PIV sex

a/n: I'm no seamstress by any means but I can do a decent enough job with a needle and thread and I love making my own lingerie from time to time so it got me thinking about dear sweet horny Eddie and what it might be like when you let him in on your little hobby.

You'd first told him about it a few months into your relationship, on a day when a press of his lips to the corner of your mouth had turned into open mouthed kisses, his tongue wrapped around yours. Eddie had pulled you closer to feel more of you then, settling you in his lap, pushing your skirt up to find the black, hand sewn lacy garters circling the thickness of your thighs, made dainty and pretty with ruching and bows.

He doesn't even know what they're called – all he knows is that he likes them, a lot and he tells you so between kisses, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers, pinching the delicate lace with a low whistle. He slips in a corny but sweet line about how it makes your thighs look like they've been giftwrapped just for him and that gets a giggle out of you, telling him you made them yourself.

"You serious?", he looks up at you, amazement shining bright in his deep mahogany eyes even when you try to downplay it, telling him it's not that hard. But your modesty does nothing to stop him from thinking you're the most talented person he's ever met and he reminds you of that mixed in with more praise when you change positions and he's down on his knees, slipping his fingers under each garter while he fits his head between your legs.

"Turning up in a pretty little outfit like this? that's begging to have my tongue on you, baby. You shoulda known that", he tuts against your clothed mound, licking a broad stripe up your panties, tasting the wetness that had gathered there on the black cotton.

He only pulled out the stitching on one garter that day – unintentional of course but unavoidable too given how tightly he had to hold you down in place as you writhed. It didn't trouble you though because it was nothing you couldn't mend with your needle and some thread back at home.

From then on, whenever you feel inspired to tackle a new design he's all sorts of encouraging, driving you and accompanying you to get all the things you need – all of the sewing supplies; fabric, thread, lace, ribbon, elastic and more. He helps you decide on which colors to get and he makes the gesture of paying for it all too, wanting to spoil you. Not to mention it's kind of like he's buying himself a present too, knowing you'll model the undergarments for him when you're done.

The most you let him help with after that is taking your measurements, letting him wrap the measuring tape around your hips and bust while you guide him on how to do it correctly but what that leads to is a lot of wandering touches and a few sneaky pinches on your ass, having to playfully swat his hands away if you hope to get anything done.

Eddie backs down with a little whine but all the faux pouting's just for show. He finds space on your bed while you look up DIY tutorials online at your desk before you get down to sewing, all of your supplies laid out neatly by your side, ready to be used.

While you're busy he spends his time strumming away on his guitar, pencil tucked behind his ear as he brainstorms lyrics for a new song. Both of you liked working on your own projects this way, in the same room because you appreciate having each other's company and presence to surround yourself with while you create.

Though Eddie had promised not to look too much he struggles to uphold that promise as he sneaks peaks at you cutting out patterns for a matching lace bra and panty set. He adores the cute way your brows scrunch together in concentration when you thread your needle and how you sometimes mirror him with your tongue pinched between your lips while you meticulously stitch all the individual cut outs together.

Somewhere between the time it takes you to get the panties finished and the bra started he approaches you, one hand clamped over his eyes so he can't see your progress – he knows how much you want to surprise him with the final result. Held out in the other is a mug of that tea you like, having made a quick trip to your kitchen and back, a bag of potato chips cradled in the crook of his elbow for you too.

You thank him and gladly take the offerings, cheeks growing warm when he plants a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Don't overwork yourself", he coos into your hair, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before he heads back to your bed and picks up his guitar again.

The tune Eddie's playing carries you through the rest of your stitching and close to an hour later you swivel your desk chair around in his direction. "I'm done", you announce with a sunny smile and he grins back at you, fingers abandoning his guitar. "You gonna get changed right now?" he asks hopefully, eyes twinkling.

"Yup", you answer him, popping the 'P' with a little wink. You gather the set in your arms, stepping into the bathroom. "Wait here, I wanna do a reveal", you tell him before closing the door, all giddy with girlish excitement, proud of how the it all came out.

The wait isn't long but every second that passes has Eddie feeling like his head's full of fireworks, finding it impossible to remain still, fingers drumming on his knees, legs hung over the side of your bed, socked feet tapping away on your carpeted floor.

You don't announce yourself once you've changed, unlocking the bathroom door and letting it swing open as you lean against the doorframe, letting your boyfriend take in your newest creation.

You know you've succeeded when his lips part, jaw going slack and his eyes going wide to rake over every inch of you, stunned.

He makes grabby hands at you and its somehow made cuter given his age so you step forward to let him get a closer look, occupying the space between his spread legs, letting him place his warm hands on the bare skin of your waist.

It's always a rare moment when Eddie goes silent, words escaping him as he quietly admires the way the material wraps around your proportions perfectly and the the cheeky cut of your panties as you do a little spin for him, the front a soft lilac satin, the back a matching shade of lace to reveal your ass through the floral embroidery.

The bra is simple – nothing too elaborate like some of the designs you'd scrolled through but it compliments the underwear well. The straps are thin and rest comfortably on your shoulders, the rest sewn in a longline style. It's sheer with the same floral lace as your panties so your nipples show through, your breasts supported well even without padding or underwire for extra softness, all with a tiny, pretty ribbon bow stitched right in the middle to match the one on the front of your panties too.

"You're so fucking beautiful", me utters, pulling you closer to kiss you right above your belly button, making your chest flutter with a thousand beating wings, a hurricane of butterflies taking flight just beneath your skin.

You let him lay you down on the bed and he's far more gentle than he needs to be when he slips your panties to the side, not wanting to stretch or snag the lace and ruin all your hard work. Your belly feels warm like sunlight spilling through your window in the morning because he's so careful with the pretty underwear while he runs a finger through your wet folds, making you feel like something as delicate as porcelain, something to touched with care and worshiped. It makes you hunger for more, pulling him closer by his shoulders.

"Wanna feel you inside", you place your lips on his, hands helping him to unbuckle his belt as he leans over you. You pull not so gently at his clothing, a big contrast to how he's handling you, tossing each article to the side impatiently while you remain in your cute little ensemble. You wouldn't be ridding yourself of your underwear tonight and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Can't believe I've got the prettiest doll in town all to myself", Eddie huffs a breath against the column of your neck at the same moment you suck one in, pressing his cock inside you, so thick and hard it makes the stretch that much better.

"And she's all dressed up just for me"

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

[spamton-deactivated19970420]

i made a little hand-sewn beast based on everydayspamton's drawing & took it with me on a family roadtrip

if you'd like to make your own, i've included the [[FREE]] pattern & some rough steps below the cut, as well as an Educational Video

EDUCATIONAL VIDEO. THIS IS NATURAL SPAMFISH BEHAVIOR & IT IS NOT SCARED OR IN PAIN.

BEAST CRAFTING INSTRUCTIONS:

disclaimer: i'm an amateur & i've never tried making a pattern before, nor have i ever tried writing directions

materials you'll need:

sewing needle & pins

black thread & white thread

fabric in these colors - black, white, red, yellow, & pink

stuffing

(optional) a squeaker

notes:

for the thread, i suggest something thicker, like whats used for embroidery - i used two different thicknesses on mine, & i think the thicker one; (the black thread); stands out a lot nicer

for the fabric, i used craft felt. its nice because its cheap & malleable, but if you want something that can actually be washed & played with without disintegrating on you, don't use felt. different fabrics will have different results, though, & may not give you a clean-looking edge & lines

you can also just go nuts & use whatever colors of thread/fabric you want, make pattern alterations, whatever

if you make one, feel free to @ me, send an ask or DM me with it, i'd love to see!

^^^ here's the pattern!

now the actual steps?:

1.) download & print out the pattern - it should(?) fit normally across a regular sheet of printer paper. i don't have exact measurements, i eyeballed this whole thing & then lost the original pattern - (there's only a copy that i scanned & edited left on my computer. woops.)

2.) cut the pieces out. pin the patterns to the fabric color the instructions call for, & cut out the number you need for each

^^^ here's what you should end up with!

now the sewing! for this whole thing i used doubled-up thread & a 'running stitch', then went over it a secondary time with another running stitch to fill in the gaps. you could also try using a 'back stitch' (which i don't know how to do), but that might be tougher. the goal here is to give it an Outlined look, like a drawing

3.) with white thread, sew the pink & yellow eyes onto the glasses - pink is Left, yellow is Right. reference the image above if you're not sure!

4.) sew all the fins pieces together - on the black fin, use white thread; & on the white fins, use black thread. reference the pattern for the detailing. i made my own front fins 'wrong', but you don't really have worry too much about being exact

5.) overlap the Head pieces onto the Body pieces - making sure you have a Left and Right side! pin the heads to the bodies, & compare their lengths by holding them together to make sure you've got it right. sew the heads to the bodies using black thread. detail the head with black thread, & detail the body with white thread

6.) now that you've got the two sides of the body completed, you can hold them together to try to get even placement for the red cheeks. pin each cheek to each side, then sew them on with white thread

7.) using black thread, sew the pink glasses onto the Left side of the body, and the yellow glasses onto the Right side. they'll be slightly overlapping the cheeks

8.) with white thread, sew the front fins on to each side. NOTE: i put mine on wrong, & didn't realize until i was finished. for the 'right' placement on these (closer to the original drawing), reference the pattern, & not the images

you now have all your parts ready for assembly! for me, this is the hardest part. you'll need a bunch of pins - use the guidelines on the pattern and/or reference the below image to get the right placements

9.) pin in the back fin & the nose. leave some space on the bottom for stuffing when you start, & using black thread, sew together the nose & the fin unto the body - the fin should be sandwiched Between the two body halves

10.) pin in the tail fin. continue sewing down the back with the black thread, & sew the tail fin in - once again, it should be Between the two body halves

11.) pin in the back fin between the halves. continue with the black thread, sew along the tail & sew the back fin in - Stopping once its secured. you should have some good space still open on the belly

12.) time for stuffing. using something thin, but not sharp - like a chopstick or the back of a crochet hook - & push stuffing into the nose & tail portions. stuff the head about halfway. now, if you have a squeaker, put it into the widest part of the head, & stuff a little around it

13.) still using the black thread, sew the belly up a little more so its easier to keep the stuffing in, & then fill up the rest of the body. once fully stuffed, sew the remaining hole together

14.) congrats! you now have a spamfish. if you opted for a squeaker, squeak it thoroughly

don't worry if it's not exact, some individual variation is fun & makes your creature unique! mine has upside-down front fins with upside-down detail lines

here's the thing with some friends i had made a little bit before him. have fun with your beast!

i am not liable for any damage it causes to you or your property

#spamton #myart #spamfish #i made this thing&took pictures of the process to show my friends a few months back.i finished it a few days after thedailyspamton's post #i had already been making funny little fish&it was just the perfect timing!now i want to share the spamfish with others :)

[vroomvroomcircuit]

From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you

(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch

Pairing: Lando x fem!reader

Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this

Wordcount: 2.9k

🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________

(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.

Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.

And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.

Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.

The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.

The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.

The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.

Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.

While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.

“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.

(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.

(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.

“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.

The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.

(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.

Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”

Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.

If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.

“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.

He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.

Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.

A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.

“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.

He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.

“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”

While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.

“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”

An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.

She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.

“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.

Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”

Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.

“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.

“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.

As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.

He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.

It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.

“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”

The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.” 

His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.

While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.

There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.

But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”

Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.

“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”

(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.

“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”

Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.

A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.

She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.

Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.

The clothes itself also get the best feedback.

A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.

But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.

Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.

It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.

‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.

Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff

[capricornlevi]

blowin' off steam

wc 3.4k - timeskip!atsumu miya x f!reader - college au - strangers to roommates to lovers - friends with benefits - possessive!atsumu - v nsfw, mdni

“Y’know … ya can't keep usin’ me as a way to blow off steam after a bad date.”

Atsumu’s words are emphasised when you feel the nip of his teeth against your lower lip, biting down just enough for you to feel the slightest sting. 

Your roommate is many things, but subtle isn’t one of them. 

The gesture makes you laugh, the sound all breathless and hazy as you fumble with shaky fingers to undo the back of your dress. With Atsumu’s shirt and joggers already tossed on the couch, you’re lagging considerably behind – though not for lack of enthusiasm. 

Dipping his head in to kiss you again, you feel his strong hands reach up to assist your efforts to undress; before you have time to catch your breath, the red fabric falls to the floor to be swiftly kicked aside, landing in an untidy pile by the TV. 

You moan in a voice that doesn’t even sound like your own. You paw at his bare chest with a confidence that seems alien to you, the desperation feeling like a force you can’t control. 

And, truth be told, you’re not even sure how this routine developed. 

Of course, you remember when he moved in last year, arriving at your door all sweaty and panting having come straight from volleyball practice to collect his key. You handed it to him wordlessly, eyes scanning over his muscular frame with a curious but sceptical outlook on what your shared living situation would be like. 

You’d met Atsumu just once before then, at a party hosted by a mutual friend – the brother of your former roommate whose lease he ended up taking over – and you found him to be … fine. Pleasant enough. Saeko seemed to get along well with him. 

Though he was more than a little hyperfocused on his own athletic achievements, having launched into the conversation expecting you to have a thorough understanding of college volleyball. You had, at best, an entry-level grasp on the sport. 

When the conversation inevitably started to lag, you had contemplated kissing him to break the awkward silence. 

It was late, you were tipsy, and he was hot. It seemed like as good a way as any to change the topic.

But he was whisked away by his drunken teammates before you had the chance, with them eager to show off their captain to anyone who would listen. 

That’s the last you saw of him. 

You were content on leaving things there, until your dear friend Saeko informed you that a friend of her brother’s wanted to move in when she graduated. 

Atsumu Miya, she’d exclaimed, holding up the line in your favourite cafe as she talked, remember him?

He’d be the perfect candidate, she informed you in her usual exuberant manner, if you could overlook all the college athlete stuff, you’d get along great. He wouldn’t care about the broken ceiling light in the hallway or the next-door neighbour with four overly-zealous pet parakeets. 

Not to mention all the parties he’d be able to get you into …

“Swear, he’s really not that bad,” Saeko chirped in between sips of her triple-shot americano, “Ryu told me he’s the only one who knows how to clean up after himself. And he’s in final year too, so you have that in common!”

Turns out, that’s the only thing you had in common.

It was a tense first couple of weeks. The two of you made polite conversation when in the kitchen at the same time, nodded in each other’s direction when passing by on campus, and even went out grocery shopping together a few times. He was a fine person to live with. He didn’t make that much of a mess and kept noise to a minimum. 

However, the roommate bonding did not come naturally at all. It was awkward to the point where mealtimes grew unbearable, a constant barrier of silence hovering between the two of you, a reminder of how different you both were, how you live two distinct lives with no common threads.

That uneasy pattern continued until one night when you arrived home in the early evening, less than two hours into a Tinder date, a date you had been looking forward to for weeks. 

You had brought it up to Atsumu in the context of polite but extremely stilted small-talk over cereal that morning, so he wasn’t expecting you home for several hours – if at all. You likely startled him because of this, his head snapping in your direction when he heard your key turn in the apartment door, sitting up suddenly from where he’d been laying down on the couch.

He flinched when you closed the door behind you a bit too forcefully.

“... everythin’ okay?” he asked slowly, hesitantly, unsure as to how badly the night had gone, and even more unsure as to whether he should ask about it. 

You sighed and tipped your head back, eyes screwed shut with frustration – none of which was directed towards Atsumu, who just had the misfortune of being the first person you saw after Tinder Boy left the bar to take a call from his ex. 

“Bad date, is all,” you mumbled, hanging your jacket on the hook by the door, trying your best to keep your temper on a tight leash. The last thing you wanted was to snap at Atsumu and turn your awkward living situation into a tense one. 

“How bad?”

It’s nice that he cared, you supposed. Even if he was only asking out of courtesy. 

Kicking off your heels before collapsing down on the couch next to Atsumu, you rubbed your tired eyes with the back of your hand, swearing under your breath when you remembered you were wearing mascara.

“Still in love with his ex of four years-level bad,” you answered despairingly, wiping at the mascara stain with your thumb. You were too exhausted to come up with a polite and watered-down version of events – may as well vent to someone, right? “They broke up before we started talking but got back together – without me knowing, obviously – and then she dumped him when she saw my messages this morning. He started crying before we even got the second round of drinks.”

A beat of silence passed, and for a moment you worried that you overshared to this practical stranger who just shares your communal living space. 

“Well … that is a bad date,” Atsumu replied, and the earnestness with which he delivered it made you chuckle.

The chuckle turned to a laugh when Atsumu tried and failed to say something else, clearly lost for words at how to console someone in your situation, the cogs in his head turning over and over. 

“Who is this guy, anyway?” he eventually settled on asking, his bright eyes fixed on your face for signs of discomfort. Seeing none, the corners of his mouth quirk upwards for a split second.

“The captain of the soccer team,” you mumbled in a quiet, defeated tone, already wanting to forget he ever existed. You had deleted his number before even getting in your taxi home. 

At that, Atsumu barked out a laugh that shocked you out of your self-pitying stupor.

“What?” you asked defensively. 

“Holy shit … him? I coulda told you he was a waste!” he grinned, shaking his head as he spoke. “You shoulda told me before goin’ out with him – guy’s known for pullin’ shit like that. A complete mess.”

You groaned, being met with another chuckle from your half-pitying, half-amused roommate. If you were in any other frame of mind, you could have stopped to appreciate how easy the conversation was, particularly in contrast to the ones you’ve shared before. 

Even though the humour was technically at your own expense.

“Couldn’t you just give me a blanket warning about student athletes?”

He clutched his chest with mock offence. “Don’t you dare group us all with him. He’s the worst of us, promise.”

Rolling out your shoulder to release some of your stress, you noticed the strap of your dress has fallen down a bit. You fixed it absent-mindedly, paying no attention to the path Atsumu’s eyes were following.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said light-heartedly. 

“Appreciate it.”

A beat of silence passed, though it’s not nearly comparable to the ones you’ve shared before. This was nice, comfortable, natural. 

It made you want to keep talking to him. 

“I spent two hours getting ready for this, y’know?” you lamented through bittersweet laughter, finally starting to appreciate the humour of the situation. “Picked out a nice dress, painted my nails. I even shaved every -- nevermind.”

Your face heated the moment the words left your mouth, conscious of how much you just revealed. Things between the two of you were going from nice to comfortable to potentially too comfortable, and you felt you needed to dial it back before scaring him off. 

Oh, you really hoped you hadn’t made things weird, or potentially wrecked the only bonding moment you’ve had since moving in.

But Atsumu didn’t seem too bothered by it. 

Instead, he just stood up from the couch, walked wordlessly over to the door and shrugged on his own jacket, using his hands to style his messy hair into something more deliberately messy. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, perplexed. He hadn’t mentioned anything about having plans that night, and it seemed a peculiar point in the conversation to just up and leave. 

He turned to face you again, shooting you that blinding grin you hadn’t appreciated since that first time you met. 

“Wanna go out for a drink instead?” 

— 

You woke up the following morning in a bed that didn’t feel like your own.

Strange, you thought to yourself as you buried your head into the pillow, you fully remember getting home last night - you only had two drinks the whole time you were with Atsumu - and you don’t remember talking to anyone else.

Once the tiredness wore off and you finally opened your eyes, you sat up in bed with a start and a gasp.

“Mornin’,” Atsumu yawned from right beside you, bleach-blonde hair once again ruffled from sleep. He lifted his arms to stretch, shifting the covers in a way that showed –

Yep, still naked. Both of you.

“Holy shit,” you hissed under your breath, tucking the covers back over your chest. 

“Language,” he scolded, amusement leaching into every syllable. He propped himself up on his elbow, biceps tensing in a way you pretend you couldn’t see, and he just looked at you, casually observing the state of shock you were sinking into. 

He did not seem to grasp the gravity of the situation whatsoever. 

“We slept together, Atsumu!”

Your statement was a little redundant, you know that, but you felt as though the words needed to be spoken aloud in order for them to actually feel real.

Atsumu just nodded plainly, eyes twinkling as he took in your reaction. He didn’t seem rejected or dismayed, just … entertained. Curious. Like he was watching a rerun of one of his old favourite volleyball matches.

“Yes, we did.”

“You don’t – people don’t sleep with their roommates!” you blurted out, gesticulating in a way that verged on the overdramatic. Your heart pounded in your chest, and whether it was from embarrassment, adrenaline, something else, you weren’t sure. 

He tilted his head to the side, puzzled. “Why not?”

You refused to answer his question; instead, you slid out of his bed, searching frantically for your clothes. 

“That can’t … we can’t … we need to pretend that never happened,” you muttered, giving up on your search for your dress and grabbing one of Atsumu’s sweatshirts from his closet, draping it over yourself.

“Sure,” he drawled, entirely pleased at the image before him. 

Through it all, you managed to roll your eyes.

“Atsumu,” you hissed, hurriedly grabbing your underwear from where you spotted it on the floor, “I mean it.”

“Okay,” he drawled as you let the door shut behind you, with an assuredness you didn’t understand at the time.

Your next Tinder date was three weeks later, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out Atsumu’s sudden confidence.

You didn’t intend on it becoming a pattern. Really, you didn’t. 

But whenever you went on a shitty date – and knowing college boys, that happened fairly often – it was always so refreshing to know you had someone as charming as Atsumu waiting at home for you. 

Atsumu, who knew what he was doing when it came to sex.

Atsumu, who you had developed so much trust for these past few months.

Atsumu, who you could rely on. Who you got along with.  

Sometimes you’d only spend a few minutes talking to a new guy before making up your mind that you’d be spending the night in your roommate’s bedroom.

And tonight is no different.

Anticipation flowing through your veins, you feel your shoulders land against the soft couch cushions as Atsumu lowers you down, his hand somehow supporting your back and unhooking your bra at the same time. 

He joins you on the couch, his giant frame wrapping around you as he presses kisses to every inch of skin he can. 

“So, how bad was that date?” he asks diplomatically, politely, as if you can’t feel the hardness pressed against your stomach. 

Your face burns under Atsumu’s careful attentions, mind already hazy. “I don’t wanna talk about him right now.”

Atsumu peers up from where he was kissing at the swell of your breasts, his eyes sharp and focused, a glint in them that you recognise as he starts to dip his head lower and lower. 

“Good,” he mumbles, his lips on your ribcage, stomach, leaving trails of goosebumps until he’s on his knees on the floor. “I don’t really wanna hear ya talk about him either.”

You groan as Atsumu’s fingers trail along the band of your underwear, tugging milimeter by milimeter. You cant your hips up to allow him access. 

“Wonder how he’d feel if he knew?” he ponders quietly, slipping the delicate fabric down your legs to be tossed to the side like the rest of your clothes.

“Hm?” you ask, distracted by the contrasting sensations of the cool air and Atsumu’s warm breath against your skin.

“I said,” Atsumu repeats carefully, using the tip of his tongue to trace a path along the inside of your thighs. “I wonder how he’d feel? Your date - knowin’ I get to taste ya tonight when he can’t?”

“Atsumu,” you choke out, the sound emerging as a pitiful mewl. Your hands bunch into fists at your sides, so tightly wound your knuckles start to ache. 

He’s at the divot between your legs now, kissing and licking everywhere except where you so desperately need him, everywhere except the place that’s been throbbing for him since you started getting ready for this date. 

“Yeah?” he says casually, with the confidence of someone who has you on a knife’s edge, someone who knows your body well enough now that he can tease and taste and draw things out to his heart’s contest. 

You gasp, chest rising and falling erratically, sweat beading on your forehead as you writhe underneath him. 

“P–please.”

Taking pity, he finally presses his tongue flat against you, tasting what’s been making his mouth water for months now. 

You can feel him grin as he starts to suck on your swollen clit. 

Your spine jackknifes off the couch almost immediately, the heat of Atsumu’s mouth and his talented tongue proving to be too much at once. 

But you don’t ask him to stop. If anything, you spur him on, fingers twisting into his soft hair and crying out his name as if you hadn’t already received three noise complaints this month alone. 

“‘Tsumu–” you gasp, hips bucking up against his mouth. “Don’t stop, please, ‘Tsumu, please …”

Atsumu hums, the vibrations resonating against your already-sensitive folds; he did it because he knows it makes you shiver against him, and he succeeds at doing so. 

Every flick of his tongue, every careful switch in pressure, it all compounds in a swell of heat that gathers low and steady in your core. 

Two fingers press at your entrance and are met with no resistance, slipping inside and almost instantly hitting that spot that only Atsumu ever seems to reach. Every cell in your body feels ignited, buzzing with energy and tension ready to snap like a rubber band. 

He’s so good at this. Talented with every part of his body – and he always gets you off first, making sure you’ve come on his hands or his tongue before he even thinks about fucking you. 

But that alone isn’t why you keep coming back to him after every date. 

The sex is great, obviously, but there’s something about the way he handles you, a gentle possessiveness that stays with you long after you go back to your own room the following morning, an unspoken tenderness you can’t quite place.

He touches you like he’s in awe every single time.

Before you can think any further, he has his lips wrapped around your clit again and sucks, sucks until your vision goes white, until you’re about to –

“‘Tsumu I’m gonna come I’m gonna come–”

And you burn up underneath him, oblivious to anything else in the world but the feeling of his fingers pressing inside you, how he licks you through it under the waves subside.

Once your legs are steady enough to support you, he has you flipped around so your elbows are resting on the couch cushions, your hips propped upwards, eager to feel him inside you.

You feel his hands on your ass, spreading you open with unintelligible but undoubtedly praising murmurs, admiring his work.

Then, you feel the length of his cock press against you – not inside, but against your soaking flesh, circling slowly  – as he sees how easily you’d take him, how you just suck him in, how you’re subconsciously backing up against him in order to get more friction. 

It’s only when you’re on the verge of sobbing that he sinks inside to the hilt, hissing out a groan through his teeth as he feels you wrap around him so tightly. 

If you wanted to, you could tell him that you spent the whole date tonight thinking about this, but he already knows that – you’d said something to that effect in a fucked-out haze about five or so dates ago. 

Or you could tell him that nobody’s as good as him, but he’s (acutely) aware of that, too. You’re more than fond of the man at this point and you don’t mind padding his ego, but you can think of more creative ways to get him going. 

So you deepen the arch of your back, spreading your legs wider for him to fuck into you, your fingers aching once again from how you’re gripping the couch for leverage. 

He groans, the sound all low and drawn out, biting down on his lower lip to stifle it. 

“Ya drive me crazy, y’know that?”

You smirk against the couch cushion. “I know.”

“B- but I told ya earlier,” he continues, his breathing heavy and unsteady. “I – we can’t keep doin’ it like this, after your dates.”

That takes you by surprise. You thought it was just a throwaway line, that it didn’t mean anything.

Does he want to stop hooking up?

“Why?” you ask, keeping your question to just one word so as to not give your panic away in your voice. 

“Because,” he mutters, “Cos what if ya meet someone ya really like on one of those dates?” 

The idea alone bothers him enough that he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing around the living room. 

Amidst the overwhelming sensation, you just about manage to articulate a response. 

“What if I already have?”

He slows, hips still moving in and out but at about half the speed they were just moments before, and you feel one of his giant hands grip your hip for leverage.

As always, it’s firm but careful. Tender, even. 

“You mean that?” he asks, thumb tracing soft circles at your hipbone.

You turn your head slightly, peering up at him over your shoulder. You smile with the full knowledge he knows the answer already, he just needs you to confirm it.

“Yeah,” you say with sincerity. 

“So no more dates?” he asks, starting to fuck you in earnest again. 

You laugh breathlessly, hazily. “No more dates.”

#atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #timeskip atsumu #haikyuu #may tries to write #and they really and truly were roommates!!!

[shadowdaddies]

Quality Entertainment

Ruhn x Reader

You and Ruhn have different ideas about what qualifies as good television, but can you agree on other forms of entertainment.

A/N: I'm thinking about Ruhn Danaan a LOT and I only see it getting worse after January 30

Warnings: fluffy smut below the cut, nsfw, oral f!receiving, minors dni

You were curled up in Ruhn’s lap on the couch, trying to focus on the movie you were watching together. He had his arms around you, tucking you into his warm chest as his hands absent-mindedly traced patterns along your arms, your waist, your legs. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling, nestling further into your boyfriend’s lap where you were met with the evidence that he was not entirely focused on the movie as well.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing up at Ruhn as you rolled your hips harder against him. He let out a soft groan as his fingers gripped your hips harshly. “You seem distracted, Ruhn. I thought this was supposed to be ‘a cinematic masterpiece’ as you said,” you teased, trailing your hand up and threading it through his hair. Ruhn pinned you with a stare. “I didn’t say it was a ‘cinematic masterpiece,’ just that it’s better than that trashy reality TV you and Bryce watch.” 

You snickered, aware that Fangs and Bangs wasn’t award-winning content, but you refused to admit that to Ruhn because his reactions to the show were what you enjoyed most. “Mhmm, well you’d better keep your eyes on the screen, then. I’d hate to get in the way of quality entertainment,” you bantered, swinging your leg over so that you were straddling his lap facing him. 

Ruhn smirked, catching onto your game. He returned his attention to the TV behind you as he ran his hands over your thighs, teasing you with a feather-light touch. Challenge accepted. You pulled your top off, leaving you in your shorts and black lace bra. You inched closer to Ruhn so that your chests were barely touching, smirking as his breath quickened, clearly straining to maintain his focus on the screen. You began kissing and sucking at the exposed skin on his neck, licking your way up the side of this throat to his ear where you whispered, “enjoying the show?”

Ruhn swallowed but kept his gaze ahead, his expression changing to smugness as he brought his hands up your bare waist and undid the clasp on your bra. You sucked in a breath as your nipples were exposed to the cool air. Ruhn lazily dragged his hands to your breasts, drawing slow, teasing circles before lightly pulling and twisting each of your nipples. You bit back a moan as you tried to maintain the sense of dominance you had in the situation, but Ruhn could scent how aroused you were. Your breaths were shallow, and you were trying to calculate your next move when Ruhn practically shouted, “movie’s over,” and pulled you closer to him. He wasted no time taking one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue and swirling before dragging his lip ring along the sensitive peak, and repeating his movements on the other breast. 

You were gasping as you rolled your hips against him. “Fuck, Ruhn, please,” you murmured and pulled his chin up to kiss you. You reached down to palm him through his jeans, causing his mouth to part enough for you to slip your tongue in, moving in tandem with the roll of your hips. Ruhn flipped you onto your back, his arms caging you in on the couch. He slowly kissed and licked his way down your torso, reaching the top of your shorts before he pulled them down, leaving you completely naked while he remained fully clothed above you. 

Ruhn shifted down on the couch, licking and biting the insides of your thighs as his fingertips grazed your abdomen. He dragged his bottom lip along each side of your center, teasing you with his lip ring while pinning down your hips with one arm. He brought up his other hand, swirling and dipping slightly into your center. “Gods, you’re so wet, princess.” You pushed your hips against his arm holding you in place, “do something about it then, prince.” Ruhn removed his hand to give you a mock bow before bringing his finger up to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. You hooked your legs around his back and he smirked, making eye contact with you as he dragged his lower lip right over your sensitive clit. You moaned loudly, instinctively rolling your hips towards him as he began to suck your clit, bringing two fingers up to curl inside of you at a vicious pace. You hit your high with a scream, arching your back as Ruhn continued licking and sucking your clit until your legs were shaking.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, you looked at Ruhn who was smiling at you. “That is my favorite form of entertainment,” he said, scooping you up bridal style as he carried you to the bedroom to continue.

#ruhn x reader #ruhn crescent city #ruhn smut #ruhn danaan #prince ruhn #ruhn x reader smut #ruhn x f!reader #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan smut #hosab #crescent city #hofas #crescent city x reader #cc3 #crescent city smut #crescent city fanfic #house of sky and breath #Ruhn Danaan imagine #acotar smut #kinktober #house of flame and shadow #sjm books #Ruhn x fem!reader

[oftenwantedafton]

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 7

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, mild breeding kink, Springtrap suit sex

Also available on AO3

You awaken to find Steve watching you.

It’s Friday morning. You've almost made it to the weekend. Tomorrow you’ll be able to sleep in and spend the entire day with your stepfather.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

He smiles at you, soft and lazy. “Good morning, Princess.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes.” He reaches out to brush back some errant strands of hair. Traces the curve of your cheek. Smoothes over your bottom lip. You suddenly remember you’d gone to bed without panties.

You push back the covers and climb on top of him, straddling his hips, your hands shoving the fabric of his shirt up. You trace the patterns of his scars and grind yourself down, feeling his clothed erection pressing against your bare pussy.

“You really want Daddy’s cock inside you, don’t you baby girl?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yes, Daddy. I need you to fuck me.” You can feel the wetness of your arousal dampening the fabric of his pajama pants.

Steve groans, glancing at the alarm clock.

You know it’s time for both of you to get washed and dressed and leave the house. You don’t want to stop.

“Tonight, I promise you. When we have time and we don’t have to rush.”

You sigh, ceasing your rocking motion. You know you’re pouting. Your stepfather sits up, hugging you against him. “It’s your first time, baby girl. Need to make it special for you. It’s not because I don’t want to, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go get ready.”

***

This is the longest shift of William Afton’s life.

He normally stands and shakes his clients’ hands, guiding them to their seats and walking them back to the door.

Not today. There’s no fucking way because his erection will not relax. He’s finally going to have you tonight. That tight pussy that’s never known another man’s cock, all for him. You’d been so sexy, grinding yourself against that stuffed rabbit the night before. Rubbing your bare pussy against him this morning.

A knock at the door. He tucks his chair further under the desk to conceal what’s happening further down his body and forces a smile on his face. “Come in.”

***

You’re waiting for Steve when he opens the front door.

Without hesitation he pushes you back against it while closing it. Bends to kiss your mouth. Your hands twine around his neck. You’re still in your school uniform. He drops his briefcase and car keys on the floor. “Hey, sweet girl.”

“Daddy…” He hears it in your voice. The raw ache. The hunger.

“Come upstairs with me. I want to fuck you in my bed.” Somewhere along the line it had become that. No longer one shared with your mother. Just his.

And now yours, too.

***

You follow your stepfather up the stairs. This was it. It was finally happening. Your heart is pounding. Your pussy has been throbbing all day, panties soaked. You want him so badly.

He pushes you onto the bed. One hand drags roughly against your school blouse and the threads securing the buttons loosen, the bits of plastic scattering. You’re already working on the one holding your skirt fastened on the side. Steve removes his glasses and tosses them on the nightstand, then unknots his tie and unfastens his cuffs and pulls everything over his head all at once, undershirt and dress shirt together. You unhook your bra and drop it on the floor. He unfastens his belt. Pants and briefs shoved down together simultaneously. His shoes are next to yours by the front door.

You start to remove your knee highs but he halts you. “Leave them on,” he says. His voice is so coarse. It’s the desire chafing it, you think. His own pair of socks he tugs off unceremoniously. His palm caresses your covered calf, making sure the edge of your sock is properly pulled into place. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing one knee. You touch his hair. “Lie back, baby.”

You obey, flopping down somewhere near the center of the bed, shoving blindly at the pillows beneath you until they cradle your head properly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your panties and pull them off of you. You part your legs for him.

“It’s going to hurt in the beginning…” he cautions, resting a hand on one thigh.

“I know. I don’t care. I want you.”

“After that you’ll love it, baby, I promise.”

You nod, watching him as he moves, positioning himself at your entrance.

***

William could have prepped you a little first, of course; used his mouth and his fingers. But that’s not what he wants. He wants to violate you at your absolute tightest. He sees how wet you are, how your eyes plead with him, and he stops hesitating and pushes into you, immediately feeling you tense and clamp down, your body resisting his intrusion. You wince and suck in a deep breath.

“Relax, baby girl. It’ll be easier for you. It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He pushes a little further in. Christ did you feel like heaven. So snug around his fat cock. Another whimper of pain, but you’re being brave about it. A little further. Another gasp. He shoves the rest of the way in.

“Daddy!” Your back arches, lifting your torso off the mattress.

“Okay, baby. You did it. I’m all the way inside you.” He pauses there a moment, just taking in the sensation of being fully sheathed. Moves out a little, then thrusts back in.

“Oh, you feel so good.” He lowers himself down, shifting his weight onto one forearm, kissing your mouth. “So tight around me, baby. So perfect.” You’re still rigid. Your mouth is stiff against his lips. “Relax, sweet girl.” He moves his cock back and forth, never quite in and never all the way out, just trying to get you accustomed to the feel of him. Gentle thrusts. He caresses your cheek and smooths your hair. You’re getting wet again. Your hips are moving slightly, your mouth now responsive. “There you go, Princess. You’re such a good girl.” He moves a little faster, now withdrawing further and shoving back inside to the hilt. “Fuck, baby. Look at how good you’re taking me. That pussy was made for me.” His free hand finds your breast and begins massaging it, pinching and rolling your nipple. “You’re so, so gorgeous.” Your sounds have evolved. No longer pained. You’re starting to enjoy it. He feels you grinding back against him, lifting to meet him.

Time to change positions.

***

You thought you’d been prepared, but that first feeling of your stepdad’s cock entering you had really hurt.

The burn and stretch of it. You’d thought at one point you’d just break around him. There was no way he could fit.

But he had. And that sharp pain had started to become muted because there was a new feeling suppressing it.

It felt good fucking Steve.

He’d been right as usual. Once you’d stopped tensing up things had gotten a lot better. His cock slid in and out smoother. You like the feel of it pummeling you deep inside. He’s still holding back; you know it will get rougher later. You want it to be.

His body shifts, no longer hovering over you. He lifts your stockinged legs so they rest on his shoulders. He thrusts forward and oh, this is new. You like the angle he’s hitting you at inside. Like the sound of his body slapping against yours. It drives each moaning breath from your lungs. You see a trail of perspiration leak down from his forehead. You reach for his hand and he locks your fingers together, watching the reactions play across your features as the pleasure washes over you.

Another change in position. You’re seated on top, straddling him like you had that morning. You rub the head of his cock against your clit before guiding it inside of you. It’s a little awkward until you get yourself at just the right spot to sink down onto him. Oh, God. This was amazing.

He smiles at you. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp. He wedges his hand against you, his thumb stroking your clit and the sensation heightens. “Daddy…”

“Look at you riding that big cock so well.” You mash yourself against his hand, grinding down on his prick. You’re lightheaded. Your nails dig into his ribs. His hips batter against you, shoving him deeper inside.

***

William’s got you bent over in front of him now. He slaps your ass cheek and squeezes the globe of it. Pushes back into you. Your cunt is absolutely drooling. His hips snap sharply and you moan as his cock drills into you, making you lose your balance as he shoves you against the edge of the mattress.

He fucks you hard for a few minutes, then eases up. Enjoys every gasp and moan and murmur and sigh. Slaps you again, harder, bringing color to your skin. He could easily finish this way but it’s not how he wants to. Not this time. He wants to see your face when he takes you apart.

Afton pauses just long enough to indicate he wants you to move. Climbs back on top of you and slides right back in. His mouth covers yours. You’re both drenched in sweat. He tastes the salt of it on your lips. He snakes a hand between you to stroke your clit again. Sees you frown and gasp. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

“Daddy…” The hand you rest on his shoulder tightens, nails digging in. Your eyes are locked with his. “I love you, Daddy.”

The words surprise him; his climax arriving earlier than he’d anticipated. He feels you spasming around him, milking every last drop of cum from him.

He takes his time in the shower with you afterwards. Gently cleaning your sore sex. Planting little kisses on your shoulder underneath the spray of the shower. He makes you pasta for dinner and you put another horror movie on. He cradles your body against his. You’re drowsy.

“Baby girl?”

“Mmm…yes Daddy?” Barely awake. Struggling so hard.

“I love you, too.”

You sigh happily. Afton closes his eyes.

***

Steve promises you an unrestricted day of shopping at the mall to begin your Saturday.

He helps you choose a new skirt and a slinky dress. Several sets of lingerie, one of which is lavender lace. You know purple is his favorite color so you’re not surprised. A necklace that’s a silver heart that rests on the notch at the base of your throat.

It’s pouring out today, one of those rare days when Hurricane finally gets some humidity built up into the atmosphere. Your stepfather pulls off the road. You’d gotten changed in one of the restrooms at the mall before you’d left. You’re down to just the new lingerie and the necklace now. The rain drums on the roof of the car.

“Back seat,” he says. You squeal when the downpour strikes your unprotected skin. You lie down. He climbs over you, grinning. A drop of rainwater falls from his hair onto your lips. He kisses you. Touches the pendant that’s shifted to lie against your throat and the smile softens.

His thumb hooks in the crotch of your new panties and he pulls them to the side. His cock eases in. His breath huffs beside your cheek. “You like it, sweet girl?”

“I love it,” you reply.

“Yeah, me too.” His pace is unhurried. Just gentle but deep thrusts. You feel the edge of the material dragging along his shaft with each thrust. “Going to fill you up so good…”

“I want it.” You knot your fingers in his damp hair. “Breed me, Daddy.”

His steady pace falters. You’ve surprised him. He’s only mentioned it the one time. “You want that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You want me to get that belly all swollen? Make a baby with you?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Your pussy throbs around him. Your womb very much likes the idea. You tighten your legs around his waist. “As many as you want. I’d give them to you,” you whisper by his ear, lapping at it. “I wish I was your wife. I want to be yours forever.”

His face moves so he can see your features, his hips still. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

You nod, touching his cheek, the graying beard smooth beneath your fingers. The rain is drumming louder now.

He says your name and thrusts back inside. You roll your hips against him. His mouth is rough against yours. “Oh God, baby, I want…I want…”

The words are lost in the noise of the storm. You come undone. He follows.

***

Later that night you return to Freddy’s.

Your stepfather leads you by the hand into a security office. There are stacks of monitors on the desk. You look a question at him.

“You’ve got to wait here for your surprise, okay?” He drags a large hardback chair from the corner of the room into the center. You sit. He loosens his tie and wraps it around your head, blindfolding you. You’d been wondering why he’d dressed up today. “No peaking,” he whispers beside your ear.

“Okay, Daddy.”

A few minutes go by. A few more. You squirm a little in your seat. You hear footsteps, but they’re not like Steve’s. These are heavy sounding. Metallic. You can hear mechanical joints whirring with each step.

“Daddy?”

“It’s okay, baby girl.” His voice sounds different. As if it’s being processed through something artificial. Modulated. You feel his hand on your cheek. That, at least, seems normal. Then it’s just as quickly replaced with a larger one. Cold. Steel or something like it. “Stand up for me, Princess.”

You rise to your feet uncertainly.

“Turn around. Hold onto the chair here. Now bend over. That’s it. Lift up your skirt, sweet girl.”

You obey with trembling hands. You feel the metal hand grab your panties and pull. They surrender instantly beneath the force he’s exerting, torn from your body. You can feel the air on your exposed pussy. The unencased hand caresses your cheek. A quick drag through your arousal. You whimper and squirm. You hear a foreign sound. A compartment opened? You’re still struggling to process what’s happening.

The metal hand rests on your lower spine. You shiver. Then you feel Steve’s cock plunge into your sex.

“Daddy…” It’s not just his erection pressing into you. He’s wearing something. Something soft draped over something unyielding. It’s fur touching your skin. Artificial fur, like the plush bunny you’d masturbated with the other night. He was wearing one of the animatronic suits.

“—Wait, Daddy, no. The springlocks—”

“It’s okay baby. I know what I’m doing…mmm….ah. You feel so good. You’re so wet for your Daddy…” He begins pumping into you hard and fast. He likes wearing the suit, you realize. It’s erotic for him. “You like it, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel about it. It is kind of hot, but you’re worried about his safety. It seems like an awful lot of risky movement. You don’t really understand how the springlocks work, but you think they weren’t meant for this level of activity.

“Baby,” he says.

“I’m worried,” you admit.

He sighs, the noise strange in whatever headpiece he’s wearing. “Alright. Let’s try this then. Straighten up. Take a step over here. That’s it. Step out of your shoes. I’m going to sit down. I want you to climb into my lap. But facing away from me. Okay?”

“Can I take the blindfold off?”

“Yes, I suppose you can.”

You pull the tie off.

There’s a seven foot tall yellow rabbit standing in front of you.

The costume has seen better days. There are rents in the fabric and deep gouges in the metal in places. Part of one ear is missing. The teeth that are meant to be parted in a perpetual smile seem more like a rictus grin. The eyes are bright white lights. You know exactly why he’d wanted you blindfolded. It was more than a little intimidating.

You watch as he presses something on the side of the headpiece and lifts it free, setting it on the desk nearby. His hair is damp. It must be hot inside the suit. He sits in the chair with more grace than you would have thought possible give how cumbersome the robotic suit looked.

“Come give me a kiss, baby girl.” You much prefer this voice. His own face. You bend and kiss his mouth. “Ride my cock.”

You’re not sure about it. It takes some maneuvering. Trying to balance yourself, especially facing away from him. You bare feet dig into the furry thighs. The metal hand braces you against the torso of the suit. The plastic buttons meant to simulate formal attire press into you. Steve’s hand assists you in aiming his cock into your pussy. You’re nearly there. You lower yourself slightly. One foot slips and his cock is buried in you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” your stepfather hisses at the feeling of being fully inside you again. You push yourself up, then back down again. The artificial hand holding you helps you maintain your balance, aids in your movement. You’re starting to get into a rhythm.

You’re starting to enjoy it.

The places where the fur touches your bare skin. The places where the metal presses warmly against you. It is like fucking a giant stuffed animal after all.

“Daddy…it feels good…”

“I knew you’d like it, Princess. I know what my little girl needs.”

You continue to impale yourself on his cock. The metal hand across your chest moves to your breasts, sliding inside your shirt to touch them. You wonder wildly in a lust filled moment if he could fuck you with those metal digits or if it would ruin the suit.

His encased hips snap upward. It’s starting to be a lot of movement again. You should be more cautious. But it feels too good now. You’re keening and mewling when you shove yourself onto him. “I’m gonna cum, Daddy, I’m…Daddy…” You make good on your promise. Steve grunts, hips stuttering and you feel him spill inside you.

***

You’re seated in the car outside of the closed restaurant. There’s a foreign taste to your stepdad’s throat. From the mascot suit, you think. Metallic. Musty. Something old that’s been waiting for a long time to be rediscovered.

“You had a good time, baby?”

Your lips part from his neck and you nod, smiling. The smile wavers when you think about how tomorrow is the last night of the weekend. You’ll have to get up early for school. You’ll have to be away from him the entire day. And in another week, your mother will return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your face is such an open book. “I’m just thinking about how fast this week went by. And before you know it another will pass. And then…”

“I’m not giving you up. You’re mine. That’s not going to change.” He reaches for one of your hands and squeezes it.

“But…but how will we…what are going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replies. “I’ll figure something out.”

You don’t see how. He’s married to your mother. It’s really as simple as that. Your only other option is to try to sneak around. Risk getting caught. And then what?

“Princess. It’s not for you to worry about, okay? Like the springlocks. You need to trust me.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, either.” He leans over to kiss you. First a chaste brush. Feather light. Then firmer. Your pussy tingles again. Forever hungry for him, never sated.

He exits the car and you follow. Lays you out on the hood. Licks you until you climax again. You wonder if he can smell the suit on you; taste it.

He kisses your mouth before you leave the parking lot and you have your answer.

***

Sunday morning. You’ve slept in. You stretch languidly. Arms, legs, toes curling and uncurling. Steve reaches for you beneath the covers. Starts tickling you and you squirm and weakly try to get away. You like being caught. He pins you beneath him and grins.

You think you hear the front door open and close. No, that’s impossible.

The smile on your lover’s face evaporates.

“Hey, where is everyone?”

Your mother’s voice calling up the stairs.

She’s home early.

***

William’s blood runs cold. Why was your mother back a week early? Robbing him of the extra time alone with you. He lays a finger against your lips. Sees your eyes widen. Panicked. “Go into the bathroom.”

You nod, sliding out of bed. You’ve got panties and one of Steve’s shirts on.

“And take that off!” He hisses. You fish around in the hamper looking for something that’s yours. He’d been planning on doing laundry today.

You just manage to make it into the adjoining bathroom when your mother enters the master bedroom. He evades most of a kiss by pleading morning breath.

“You slept in late. I’ve never seen you in bed at this hour.”

“Yeah, I was tired. What are you doing back so early?” He tries to make his voice light. Tries to make it not sound like an accusation.

“One of the other women had to leave early. The mood kind of shifted after that. Susan’s mother just got diagnosed with cancer with mets to the bone. Just didn’t feel right staying…”

Afton stops listening, murmuring noncommittal sounds of sympathy. He thinks he hears the faucet running.

“Where’s my daughter?”

“Uh, I think I hear her in the bathroom.”

“I wouldn’t mind a shower myself after breakfast. I didn’t bother with it this morning. You could join me…” Her hand strokes along her husband’s chest, trailing lower. His cock is still thinking about her daughter. “Steve! You did miss me, didn’t you?”

He sits up, moving his body away from her questing fingers. “We shouldn’t…she’s right there,” he says quietly, nodding towards the bathroom door.

His wife sighs. “Alright. Later then. I’m going to pop in to say hi and then I’ll make us all breakfast. Okay?”

“Sure, sounds great.”

His knuckles blanch around a fistful of sheets.

***

You can hear your mother and stepfather’s conversation. You press a hand to your mouth when you realize she’s touching him.

Your eyes fall to the tray on the counter where the wedding band still lies. You tuck it inside the medicine cabinet behind a bottle of cough syrup. You begin brushing your teeth. Scrub until your gums bleed. Rinse and spit out. Look at your reflection in the mirror.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Um, I'm getting ready to jump in the shower. I’ll be out soon.”

“Just a quick hug? I miss you.” Your mother enters without waiting for a reply. “How’s my girl?”

“Yeah, good. Welcome home.” You hug her stiffly.

“Thanks, sweetheart. It’s good to be back. I’m going to get started on breakfast, okay?”

“Sounds good.” You try and fail at a smile.

She pauses by the door. “You shouldn’t walk around the house like that. What if Steve saw? We talked about this.”

“Sorry. Forgot.” The door closes and tears immediately begin spilling down your cheeks.

The adjoining door reopens and Steve closes it hurriedly behind him.

“Baby girl…” His thumb swipes at the tears.

“That’s it. It’s over. I can’t…” You’re trying to be quiet but you hiccup a sob.

“No, baby girl.”

You open the medicine cabinet and retrieve the wedding band. “You have to put this back on. I have to go hide the roses. I don’t know if there’s anything else left out that shouldn’t be seen…”

”Princess. Calm down. Look at me.”

You shake your head. You take his left hand in yours and begin sliding the ring back in place. Pause and lift tear stained lashes. “I do.”

A shuddering sigh. His palm cups your cheek. “I’m not letting you go.” He captures your lips. His hands grasp your waist and he sits you on the counter. Already moving your panties aside and pulling his cock free of his pajama pants.

“Daddy…”

He pushes into you. Clamps a hand over your mouth as he fucks into you rough and hard. You nod your understanding and he uncovers your mouth again. Your eyes keep going to the adjoining door, the one that doesn’t have a lock. Steve bites down on your shoulder. Sucks until the fragile vessels beneath the skin burst. Marking you.

You knot your fingers in his hair. “I love you,” you whisper.

He marks you inside, claiming what’s his.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #springtrap x you #springtrap x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Congratulations on your follower celebration. Could I have character will miller( your fav) with prompt I have something to tell you and coming home drunk scenario. Smut 🔥

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

10. "I have something to tell you." and u. coming home drunk

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested in sending a request!! man I love writing for will - thank you for sending this in <3

Pairing - Will Miller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! sexual content and cursing. alcohol mentioned

Word Count - 1025

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

"Ow, fuck!"

Will wakes from where he'd been asleep on the sofa to the sound of you knocking over the shoe rack in the hallway.

"You okay, baby?" he yells, running towards the front door.

He finds you sat on the floor surrounded by shoes, foot tangled in the furniture.

"Stupid thing came outta nowhere," you mumble angrily.

"We've had it for three years, but sure. It probably moved," he laughs.

You look up at him, brows creased together with irritation. He thinks it's the cutest sight he's ever seen. Will comes over and untangles you from the rack, hoisting you up onto your feet in one quick swoop. It makes you swoon, how easily he throws you around. Sometimes you think he forgets how strong he is.

He places his hands on your hips, steadying you carefully. You dance your fingers up and under his shirt, feeling his toned stomach gently. Jesus, it's like he was carved by the Gods.

You gaze up at him with that look in your eye. You know what you want, and you're going to get it.

"What are you doing, honey?" Will murmurs, fingers rubbing comforting circles on your waist.

"Nothin'" you reply innocently. You both know that's a lie.

You move your fingers from his stomach to his back. You rake them from the top to the bottom, revelling in the quiet groan he lets out. The noise vibrates through you, rushing straight to your core. You push yourself onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his, biting his lip gently. He groans again, and you feel almost lightheaded.

Will lets you explore his mouth with your tongue. He feels as drunk as you are, tasting the champagne you've been drinking. His grip tightens on your hips, fingertips bound to leave bruises. You move a hand to grab a fistful of his golden hair, and reach to kiss your way along his jaw. Just as you're about to suck a bruise into his neck, you stumble forward slightly, alcohol making you sway.

"Easy there, sweetheart," he chuckles, placing both hands on your arms to steady you. "Let's get you out of these heels."

Will drops to his knees in front of you. The sight makes you whimper. He catches it, smirking gently.

His fingers work at the small buckle on your left shoe, while he peppers kisses just above your knee. He works his lips higher, and sucks a purple mark into the inside of your thigh. Finally, he tosses your shoe into the pile by the door, and begins to work on your other leg. By the time he's got your right shoe off, you're practically panting.

Will looks up at you, sitting back on his heels. His ocean blue eyes are swimming with something darker, something hungrier. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

You thread a hand through his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He leans into your touch like a puppy, sighing contently.

"I have something to tell you," you murmur.

"What is it, honey?"

You grab a hold of his chin with your forefinger and thumb, forcing him to look up at you, holding your gaze. He looks so pretty like this. You lean down so your mouth is next to his ear.

"I've been dripping down my thighs all night thinking about what I wanted to do to you when I got home," you whisper.

You hear his breath catch, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly. He moves his hand from where it's been resting on your calf to sit on your thigh, thumb rubbing careful patterns.

Will has the most self control of anyone you've ever met. He's patient. You almost always give in first. You secretly think he likes it, making you crumble. You don't mind. You'll beg on your knees if it gets you what you want.

You pull your underwear down and off, and shove them into the pocket of his sweatpants, making sure to brush your knuckles across where he's hard and heavy between his legs. You're not sure how much longer you can play this game before you forfeit.

Suddenly, Will stands up, grabbing you around the middle and swinging you backwards. He places you on the stairs, and settles himself below you. He pushes your dress up and around your waist, and runs his tongue along his bottom lip at the sight he's met with.

You weren't lying. You're soaked. Will doesn't feel like being so patient anymore.

Diving forward, he laps at you, drinking you down like a man parched. He knows exactly which spots will have you moaning, and he goes straight for them. He can play you like a fiddle.

"Fuck, Will," you groan, hands grabbing at his hair. The harder you pull, the lower he moans. The vibrations are heavenly.

Will pushes two fingers inside of you, tongue circling your clit. You're so worked up, you know it won't take you long to reach your climax. You've been thinking about that talented mouth of his all night.

He curls his fingers forward at the same time he sucks, and it's your undoing. Your back arches off the stairs, keening your hips towards him, begging him for more. The moan you let out is borderline pornographic.

"Fuck, baby, fuck. So good, Will, so good."

He hums in response, and it pushes you into another smaller high. He lets you ride it out before removing his fingers and holding your eye contact while he licks them clean.

"So good for me, honey. Always so good for me," he murmurs.

You smile giddily, muscles relaxed and needs satiated - temporarily. Just enough to take the edge off.

Before you can register what's happening, Will has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder, carrying you up the stairs. You shriek, and he laughs, feeling it rumble through you.

He tosses you onto the bed unceremoniously, before pulling his shirt over his head. He crawls on top of you, lips brushing yours.

"You want more, baby?" he asks into your mouth.

"Always," you whisper.

"Needy girl," he chuckles. "Ask and you shall receive."

#will miller x reader #will miller x you #will ironhead miller #will miller #will miller smut #will miller x reader smut #will miller x you smut #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x you #charlie hunnam #will miller fluff #smut #reader insert #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier smut #murphy's 500 followers celebration

[major-mads]

Chapter 7: Lucky 25

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 11k

Thursday, September 16th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1300 HRS: 1 PM

Hope’s back ached as she bent over her old Singer sewing machine, silk fabric sliding effortlessly as the needle punched thread through it. Silk was hard to come by with rationing, and there was no way, even with Hugh’s help, that she could afford a new wedding dress. Luckily for her, Frank had a knack for making things disappear from the storeroom on base and later making them reappear in the girls' hut. 

Ruth hummed Artie Shaw out of tune from behind her as the blonde cut out more fabric from the pattern, laying the pieces of cloth over the tissue paper cutouts. Tatty and Helen hand-sewed small pieces of lace together, just some odd cuts they’d gotten from the local fabric shop.

The girls worked hard all afternoon, measuring, cutting, and sewing. The dress was coming along nicely, and with only three weeks to go until the big day, Hope was anxious to get it finished in time. 

The Singer buzzed along nicely as three familiar heads poked around the nissen hut door.

“Knock, knock,” Hugh called out, stepping inside, his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl's work. Gale and John followed him closely. 

“You guys can’t be in here,” Helen scolded.

“It’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding, Cleven,” Tatty hissed, marching over to the men. “You better get going before…”

“My dear Tatty, don’t be so defensive, I merely come to offer my services,” Hugh bowed dramatically. 

Hope snickered, all too aware of Hugh’s sewing skills, “I don’t think your skills are required here, Hugh. You’re not really one for a needle and thread.” 

Hugh scrunched his face up at her just like he’d done since they were children, and before he could throw out any more ridiculous ideas, Gale stepped forward.

“I don’t want to cause trouble, I merely want to spend some time with my girl,” Gale smiled charmingly at Tatty who moved aside.

“No wonder Hope can never say no to you, Major. That damn smile.” 

Gale made his way across the room just as Hope finished covering the dress with a sheet. “Hello darling,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Hope stood up, pressing her lips against his again, smiling into his touch. 

“Tatty, come on,” John all but whined, pointing into the hut while Tatty stood firm on the doorstep. “It’s me.”

“And that is exactly why I’m not letting you in. You’d get your grubby mitts all over the dress.”

“I wouldn’t dare! Please,” John clasped his hands together, looking rather sad and pathetic until Tatty sighed. 

“Fine, but one step out of line, Major, and you’re out.” 

John moved past Tatty towards Ruth who was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by a collection of differently shaped pieces of silk. 

“Never knew you were such a seamstress,” he grinned, kissing her gently and enjoying the familiar blush that crept across her pale cheeks.

“Well, I’m a woman of many talents,” Ruth retorted, grinning up at the Major.

“That you are.”

“Hugh, put that fabric down now,” Hope hissed, moving away from Gale’s arms to scold her brother, smacking his arm until he released the precious fabric. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a hold of this?” 

“It’s just some silk, I’m sure any white fabric would do,” Hugh replied nonchalantly, pushing the reeling of cotton across Helen’s desk and glancing awkwardly around the room as it fell to the floor.

Hope sighed, “Hugh, for once in your life, please just be serious and stop acting like a child. It’s for my wedding day. Please don’t mess this up for me.” 

Hope loved her brother dearly, but sometimes it felt like she had to do all the work in their relationship.

Hugh nodded apologetically, “I will. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your big day, Little Bird.” Hope smiled at her childhood nickname, it had been a long time since he’d called her that. “But is there anything I can help with?” 

“Yes, there is,” Helen grabbed ahold of Gale and John’s sleeves, marching them towards Hugh, “You can take these two and keep them out of trouble until this evening.”

“Oh, come on, we just got here,” John groaned, glancing at Ruth in the hope of some sympathy, but she just waved at him. Gale glanced around Helen, blowing a kiss in Hope’s direction before the three men descended from the hut.

“You ladies have fun now, we’ll see you later,” Hugh called out, slamming the door dramatically. 

Helen turned back to the group, hurrying back to her spot beside Tatty, “I honestly don’t know how you’ve put up with Hugh for so long.” 

“I didn’t have much choice,” Hope laughed, turning back to the sewing machine, “He’s my brother after all.” 

A few moments passed until another knock sounded at the door, and Helen marched back over with a groan, slinging it open to reveal John leaning on the doorframe. 

“What is it?”

He peered around the woman, his eyes falling on Ruth. “Can I get a kiss?”

“You just got one!” she giggled, rising to her feet and approaching the door. “You’re so needy.”

Helen moved out of the doorway, chuckling as Ruth rose on her tiptoes and quickly kissed John before pushing him out the door with a wink. “See you later, hotshot!”

As the door closed in his face, John couldn’t help but shake his head at Ruth, his heart racing at the mere sight of her. Buck clapped his shoulder and turned him toward the nearby mess hall where Hugh walked a few feet ahead of them. “You gonna tell her tonight?”

“If Dye gets back in one piece, I will,” Johnny nodded, scratching his mustache. 

“He will.”

One Week Earlier: September 10: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

The mess hall was unusually quiet as John and Gale sat eating their breakfast, having missed the morning rush by sleeping in an extra hour. They both laid awake the night before, their minds unable to shut off after the events of John’s party. Since they’d arrived, Bucky was silent, only speaking to thank the mess hall worker for his coffee.

Buck stared at him skeptically, taking in his slightly pursed lips and distant gaze that focused on the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. “I can hear the gears turning from here, John. What is it?”

A few beats passed until he spoke up, his eyes remaining on his food. “Ruth.”

“Hmm,” Gale nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What about her?”

“Everything…I can’t get her off my mind, Buck. I don’t know what’s going on.”

‘I do,’ the younger man thought.

John shook his head with a sigh, his brow creasing as his conflicted gaze lifted from the table. “I can’t explain it.”

Gale put down his coffee cup and smiled softly at his friend. “I can…you love her.”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

“What don’t you know?” he asked as his brows furrowed. Gale saw the deep thought behind the Major’s eyes and realized the confident and boisterous John Egan was nowhere in sight. This Bucky was unsure of himself, facing emotions he’d never felt before. Buck’s voice softened as he continued. “What do you know?”

John raised a questioning brow and Gale leaned his elbows onto the table. “How do you feel around her?”

“I don’t-” Bucky frustratedly groaned, sitting back into his seat. ”I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just try.”

Every moment he shared with Ruth replayed like a film in John’s mind as he tried to find the words to describe the way he felt.

“When I think about her,” he finally began, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It just…It just does somethin’ to me, Buck, and can’t think straight.”

Gale listened intently, nodding along as John continued, his voice growing softer.

“And after last night, how she did all that for me? I’ve never met anyone like her.” His brow creased in thought as he struggled to find his next words. “She’s…she’s-”

“Everything,” Buck finished, Hope’s smiling face forming in his mind.

Gale’s words hung in the air for a few moments as the Majors thought of their beloved nurses. 

Bucky nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the window where the morning sun filtered through the glass, lighting up the mess hall in a golden glow. He took a deep breath as he finally came to terms with what he was feeling. 

John Egan was in love.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “She’s everything.”

A knowing grin painted Gale’s face as he repeated his earlier statement. “You love her.”

“That how you feel about Hope?”

“Yeah, it is.”

As Buck’s words settled over them, John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was as if hearing the words out loud made them easier to grasp, and he couldn’t deny it any longer…he was in love with Ruth Morgan.

But even as the realization settled in, Bucky couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of his mind. This was a new territory for him, uncharted skies that both excited and terrified him. He’d always prided himself on his wild heart, but now he found himself willingly surrendering to feelings he’d managed to avoid for so long.

“You know,” Gale began, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “You should tell her. It’s pretty clear she feels the same way.”

“We said we’d take it slow.”

Cleven pushed his plate aside and leaned further over the table. “So? When have you ever been one to follow the rules?”

Finally, John’s serious expression faded and he shook his head with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And when have you ever encouraged me to break them?”

“Today,” he shrugged. “But only cause you need an extra shove.”

“Should I get used to this new Buck?”

“Don’t count on it,” Gale smirked as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. 

1900 HRS: 7 PM 

The lively sound of Glenn Miller filled the Officer’s Club as the band brought the hall to life. Couples jitterbugged and lindy-hopped across the dance floor, and happy conversation filled the air, including loud cackles and laughter from a table in the bar section where Hope and Ruth sat with their Majors. They were reminiscing about their time in San Angelo, Texas, with the girls’ under their arms and Hugh to the right of his sister.

Buck took a sip of his ginger beer with a raised brow. “Isn’t that where you picked up that damned jacket?”

“Sure is,” John replied and sucked his teeth. “My pride and joy.”

“So that’s where you got it,” Ruth giggled, shaking her head.

“Well,” he shrugged, holding a hand up defensively. “It was being discontinued, so I had no choice.”

Sitting up in his chair across from them, Hugh let out something between a chuckle and a scoff. “It was a choice, alright.”

Hope’s eyes met Ruth’s at the comment, waiting for a snarky comeback from the Major, but the blonde just patted John’s chest consolingly before he could respond. “It was being discontinued for a reason, John. Have you seen that thing?”

“Thank you. It always looks dirty,” Gale interjected as he smirked at John. “Seems Ruth is on my side for this one, Bucky.”

A giggle escaped Ruth’s lips and she sheepishly looked up at Johnny to see him already staring down at her, a playful frown on his lips a few inches away. “Say it isn’t true, Ruthie.”

“Sorry, hotshot,” she laughed, her eyes unable to resist flicking to his mouth at their close proximity. “Buck’s right, hon, but know you’re still my favorite Major.”

John’s frown faded and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as her laughter filled the air, and to his surprise, she leaned up and kissed him softly. Ruth pulled away after a moment with bright pink cheeks. The taste of her drink lingered on Bucky’s lips as his gaze locked with hers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

His plans to finally tell her how he cared about her, how he loved her, flashed in the forefront of his mind. But even as he stared down at her smiling face and a wave of pure adoration washed over him, his stomach swirled with nervousness. 

What if she thought it was too fast? Too soon? Too much?

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, John forced himself to look away and took a sip of his pint before turning to Hope and pointing at her across the table. “And whaddya think, Hope? About my jacket? It’s nice, right?”

The woman met Ruth’s lovesick eyes and chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but I prefer Gale’s.”

Gale smiled smugly, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, “That’s my girl. Always knew you had good taste.” 

“Well, of course, I do. I picked you didn’t I?” She grinned at him, leaning up to press her lips to his, smiling into the kiss.

“Well, that’s right. You sure a lady with a good eye,” Gale mused, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Gale,” she chuckled, feeling his breath tickling against her collarbone, while her fingers carded through his tousled, blond locks. 

“Gaaaale,” John teased, dramatically drawing out the name with his eyes closed. “What kind of name is Gale, anyway?”

Hope’s eyes widened in amusement as Gale groaned beside her, having heard the joke a million times before. “Well, what kind of a name is Bucky?” she asked, tilting her head with a sarcastic grin. “Now Buck I can get because he’s a dashing young man, but Bucky? I don’t know…”

The group burst into laughter and John tried to send the woman a dirty look, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smirk and joining in with them. Before long, he itched for a dance and stood to his feet, pulling Ruth toward the dance floor.

“I think it’s time for a dance, Ruthie.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” she giggled, sending Hope a wave as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides in her tight skirt.

The couple found themselves at the edge of the dancefloor, swaying hand in hand to the soft trumpet solo ringing through the hall. Ruth rested her head on John’s chest, calmed by the gentle thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear and his warmth as they danced. 

She could’ve stayed there in that moment forever…just her and her hotshot…just her and the man she loved. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair, breaking the silence between them. “I know I told you earlier, but you do.”

Lifting her head from his chest, Ruth smiled sheepishly at him. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear my dress uniform, but-”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did.”

She raised an eyebrow and slid her hands around his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smirk, his eyes drifting down to her breast pocket area that proudly displayed her pair of wings and lieutenant’s bars. “I’m a sucker for a woman in uniform.”

“So I need to worry about the WACs?”

Bucky chuckled, tugging Ruth against him. “Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to worry about, lieutenant.”

As the music swirled around them, John’s gaze softened as he looked into her deep blues. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Ruth’s cheeks flushed pink as she returned it, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, melting into his embrace. She felt him smile against her lips and pulled back to get a good look at him.

“What are you smiling about, Major?” she joked.

Bucky wanted to say, ‘How much I love you,’ but anxiety churned in his stomach and he couldn’t go through with it.

“Just you.”

Rolling her eyes, Ruth pecked the corner of his lips before returning her head to its place on his chest. “I’m so happy for Gale and Hope.”

“Me too,” he replied, his eyes scanning the room for the couple. “Speaking of Buck…where is he?”

Ruth joined him looking for their friends, but she had no luck and wiggled her eyebrows at Bucky. “They’re probably having some alone time.”

He sent her a mischievous smirk, and she knew what he planned to do. “Leave ‘em be, Johnny,” she groaned, sighing as he pulled her along behind him toward the door. “Don’t bother them.”

“But it’s my job to bother Buck.”

Before Ruth could respond, he flung open the side door and stuck his head outside. By the wild grin on his face, she knew he’d found them. “Hey, Lovebirds! Hurry up, you're missing the party!” 

“Five more minutes!” she heard Gale groan, and then John closed the door, a proud smirk hanging from his lips. 

“You’re terrible.”

Bucky shot her a wink and led her back to their table, settling back into their seats as they saw Gale and Hope enter the hall and begin swaying slowly. 

“Would you look at that?” John scoffed, sipping his pint and throwing an arm over the back of Ruth’s chair. “I’ve been trying to get Buck to dance for years and Hope did it in two months.”

The couple couldn’t help but watch their friends dance, both with lovesick smiles as they got lost in the song, spinning around the floor with a practiced grace that neither Ruth nor John expected. 

Buck was good at dancing.

Their concentration on the couple was broken when yells echoed through the air. Following the sound, they saw Harry throw peanuts across the table into Hugh’s mouth, laughing hysterically as Hugh caught another one. 

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Hope beat her to it.

“I leave you two alone for all of five minutes and you wreak havoc,” Hope tutted, patting Harry on the head like a small child. “If you choke on all those nuts Hugh, I swear…”

A giggle escaped the blonde’s lips at the comment and John chuckled beside her.

“Alright mother,” Hugh laughed, throwing one of the nuts at his sister. 

Hope and Gale took their seats beside Harry, settling easily beside each other with Gale’s hand draping lazily around her shoulder. The six of them fell into easy conversation, and soon, the table became more crowded when Veal, Crank, Brady, Blakely, and a few other airmen joined the group. Laughter and wisps of cigarette smoke filled the air as the men and the two nurses unwound, enjoying the company of friends.

Ruth remained tucked under Bucky’s arm, listening to yet another story from training in the States. This one was about a failed exercise where several forts experienced ‘equipment malfunctions’ and ‘discrepancies’ that forced them to land in or near the hometowns of family and girlfriends. 

Crank grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, the Hundredth almost got canned after that.”

“And I got demoted for the first time,” John chimed as he thought about just how many times he’d changed commands over his time with the 100th.

Eyes widening in surprise, Ruth playfully smacked his chest. “For the first time? I thought you getting demoted back to Squadron CO only happened once?”

“It would’ve been three times if LeMay would have found him or Buck that day he came to base,” Kidd added.

Nudging Buck with her shoulder, Hope smirked. “And what about you, Gale?” 

Gale shrugged as he hid a smirk behind his glass of ginger beer. “I don’t know why LeMay thought both of us were responsible for the ‘raunchy discipline’ on base.”

“So you’re sayin’ it was just me?” John asked with an incredulous grin.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I mean,” Benny started, trying to hold in a laugh as he rubbed Meatball’s head affectionately. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck tear up a bar with a narwhal tusk.”

Laughter erupted like a sudden burst of fireworks around the table, echoing around the lively room and drowning out the music. 

Narrowing his eyes at them, John pointed around the table.  “Technically, none of you dodos saw any of that!”

“We didn’t have to. We saw the aftermath,” Brady called out through his chuckles.

After a few moments, the laughter died down, and the large group broke into smaller conversations. 

Gale spoke quietly to Benny as Hope whispered with Hugh, and Ruth listened as Jack shared more stories of John’s escapades back in the States. Before long, the two majors went at it as they often did, but Ruth’s attention was drawn away by Hugh and Hope slinking away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

‘This outta be good,’ she thought.

When the band slowly faded out, Ruth smirked, knowing what was most likely coming. She peered over at Gale, expecting him to be watching Hope, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Benny and didn’t seem to notice his fiancée’s absence from the seat beside him. 

The band thrummed to life, music springing out across the room in a less-than-subtle fashion that had all heads turning toward the siblings. Then Gale’s eyes found Hope’s across the room and he did a double take, glancing back at her empty chair in confusion. 

Ruth pointed at siblings, a wide smile painting her face as she whispered in John’s ear. “This is gonna be interesting. They both can sing.”

“Sparky? No way,” he griped with a grimace. “No way he’s got better pipes than me.”

Giggling, she patted his cheek lightly and turned back to the stage. “Just wait and see, hon.”

Hugh took his place in front of the microphone, encouraging Hope to do the same as he pressed his lips near the cool metal grille. The conductor gave them the queue, and she took a deep breath before singing into the microphone.

“One of our planes was missing, two hours overdue. 

Yes, one of our planes was missing with all its gallant crew,

The radio sets were hummin', they waited for the word,

Then a voice broke through that hummin',

And this is what they heard!”

The song, rather aptly chosen by Hugh for Dye’s 25th mission, began to flow easily. Hugh joined in, belting out,

“Comin' in on a wing and a prayer!”

The second Hugh’s voice rang through the speakers, the skeptical smirk on John’s lips fell, and he raised a brow at Ruth, who just rolled her eyes at his reaction.

“I told you he was good.”

“I never said he was good,” he defended.

The corners of the blonde’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

Around them, some of the crowd began to join in, all looking at Dye whose cheeks were growing redder by the minute as he stood beside Lil, trying to shield his face. 

“What a show (What a show),

What a fight (What a fight).”

The instrumental section began to play, and the couple watched as Hugh took Hope’s arm and spun her around in quick concession. A wide grin spread on Ruth’s face that matched her best friend’s on stage. 

With her eyes glued on Hope, Ruth started to sing along. Her voice was slightly off-key, but she didn’t care, continuing to sing quietly where only John could hear. The man couldn’t look away from her smiling face as she sang. His gaze wandered over her face with a gentle intensity, watching how her lips moved, the slight quirk of her smile adding to her already breathtaking look.

“Yes, we really hit our target for tonight,

How we’ll sing as we limp through the air,

Look below, there’s a field over there.”

Ruth’s eyes flickered over to John and caught his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she noticed the same vulnerable glint in his eyes as the night he told her of his past. She offered him a questioning look, silently asking what was on his mind.

Johnny’s mind raced as his lips parted slightly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sent her a small, reassuring smile and barely shook his head as if to say, ‘nothing.’

There was something in his eyes that Ruth couldn’t quite put it into words, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless. With a soft nod, she turned her attention back to the stage, her hand reaching for John’s beneath the table, intertwining their fingers gently.

The Major’s heart sank as Ruth turned away, his own hand squeezing hers softly in response. He cursed himself silently for his inability to tell her how he felt, and frustration bubbled up within him.

How many more opportunities would he let slip away without telling her the truth?

“With our full crew aboard,

And our trust in the Lord,

Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.”

As the song came to a close, Hugh wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing her hard before grasping her hand and pulling her down from the stage. Hope hopped down the best she could, ignoring the small ripping noise from her skirt that would surely be a problem later. Hugh had a little skip in his step as they made their way back to the table.

Hugh threw himself down into his chair, downing the last of his whiskey, while Hope took her seat beside Gale, his face still in awe and his lips turned upwards into the largest smile.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He mumbled softly, kissing her cheek, letting the rough stubble on his chin graze against Hope’s cheek. 

She squirmed, laughing lightly, “Oh only about every hour that I’m on base and in every letter.”

“Good,” he mused, kissing her cheek once more, “Because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” Gale was broken off by Bucky’s loud declaration. 

“What the hell was that, Sparky?” John asked with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows raised at Hugh. 

Scoffing as he settled into his chair, the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I sounded a helluva lot better than you ever have…Isn’t that right, Croz?”

Harry’s expression dropped, his eyes widening nervously as he darted glances between Hugh and his Squadron CO, who sported a smirk and an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Uhhhhh…”

Ruth was in the middle of sipping her when the comment left Hugh’s lips, and she choked on the liquid, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed, trying to regain her composure. Immediately, John’s hand on her chair moved to rub her back as he ducked to check on her, the rest of the table turning their attention to the pair. Before he could speak, she waved him off with a sheepish smile, finally managing to swallow. 

“Sorry about that,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes. “I’m alright…please continue.”

Looking around the group, Ruth met Hope’s concerned gaze and sent her a teary grin, her pale face splotchy as she caught her breath.

“Where was I?”

Bubbles chuckled under his breath before sending Hugh a smirk. “You were complimenting Bucky’s singing abilities.”

“Right! I-”

“Everyone look here!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded the group as Captain John Schwarz, the 100th’s photographer, stepped forward with his camera in hand. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get a good one!” he called out cheerfully, adjusting the settings on his camera.

The group quickly turned toward him, and Ruth managed to put on a bright smile for the photo despite still trying to clear her throat. They all posed in their seats, and John’s arm draped casually over the blonde’s chair, her hand resting on his knee as she leaned into him.

With the click of the camera, the Captain took the picture, but before he could step back, John called out to him with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. 

“Alright, lovebirds. That’s enough,” Gale grinned, repeating Bucky’s words from a few minutes before. 

Schwarz moved around the table, snapping a photo of Demarco and Meatball, Hugh with poor Harry in a headlock, until he moved around to Hope and Gale. Buck stood up, leading Hope slightly away from the table, and wrapping his arms around her from behind kissing her temple. Hope grinned widely at the photographer who snapped the picture with his own smile.

Hugh appeared beside the Captain, mumbling something under his breath before moving over to the couple. 

“Could I please borrow my sister, Cleven?”

Gale looked a little forlorn as he released Hope from his embrace, stepping back towards the table. Hugh pulled his sister into his side, a bright smile on his lips as Schwarz took the photo. 

Back at the table, Hope slipped into her seat beside Gale, his arm draping over her shoulder as they got comfortable. Ruth sent her a bright smile from her position on John’s lap, and soon the group’s conversation picked back up, laughter filling the air once more. This continued for a little while longer, but when Dye made his way over with Lil under his arm, there was a shift in the air.

It was almost unnoticeable at first.

Ruth chuckled under her breath, watching John take a drag of his cigarette across the table and point to Dye as he neared the group. “There’s our very own Charlie Robertson!”

She’d moved back to her own chair when he got up to get her another ginger beer. Ruth learned her lesson with alcohol after waking up with a raging migraine the morning following John’s birthday party.

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Lil asked, trailing behind Glen and smiling at John as she passed him on his way back to Ruth.

“Not me,” Hugh snickered, sipping his whiskey with a grimace. The British liquor was nothing compared to the ‘good ole American stuff,’ as he called it. In his footlocker sat an unopened bottle of VAT-69 he was saving for his own 25th mission.

No one else thought anything was wrong with the alcohol, but Hugh just had his particular taste and he stuck to that.

“1922. White Sox at Tigers. No runs, no hits, no errors,” John answered, his hand gesturing in the air with each word before sinking into the chair beside Ruth. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, scooting his seat closer to her until their shoulders touched and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, whispering into his ear.

“He threw the last perfect game, right?”

“Sure did,”  he grinned, shooting her a wink. “Way to go, Slugger.”

Benny nodded from beside Hope and Gale, not having heard the blonde. “Yeah, he’s the last guy to throw a perfect game.”

“Til’ now!”

“You get to go home before Florida?” Jack asked, but the conversation soon Ruth faded as she turned her gaze to John with a fond smile. She traced the outline of his face, her eyes trailing over the dark pink scars from Regensburg, the slope of his nose, his mustache, and the natural pout of his lips…the soft lips she’d kissed dozens of times. The warmth of his touch seeped through her uniform, and a feeling of contentment washed over her. 

Over the last week, the couple exchanged multiple letters corresponding about the party and how each was doing, but John mainly raved about how much he liked his birthday present. 

‘Doll, I think I’m hooked…’ John wrote two days after the party.

She was broken from her inner dialogue when the toothy grin on John’s face suddenly fell, and Ruth’s heart jolted in concern as she became aware of the hush that fell over the group

“We’re all that’s left, aren’t we?” 

At Glen’s question, her eyes quickly scanned those around them and found that all the airmen shared the same pained and exhausted look. Curt’s smiling face flashed in her mind…a reminder of the sacrifices of the heroes from the 100th. 

Hope’s wandering eyes met Ruth’s across the table, and she sent her a weary frown at the way the lively men quieted, each lost in their thoughts. 

Blakely spoke first, breaking the silence that fell over the group “12 crews out of-”

“35 that flew in from Greenland,” Crank finished.

With his lips in a tight line, Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

Ruth reached out, her free hand finding John’s atop his chair’s armrest, squeezing it gently. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she felt him deflate slightly beside her just before Gale began to speak.

“We’re just happy for you, Dye.”

“That’s right. We are,” John added, his voice deepening as he raised his glass. “Very happy for you. Very happy.”

Glen held out his drink to the group. “And to all the fellas that aren’t here tonight, who should’ve been.”

The table broke out into quiet mumbles of agreement as they all lifted their glasses in a toast before tipping them back. Ruth’s ginger beer fizzed as it traveled down her throat, and beside her, John downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, unfazed. She watched him stare at the tabletop in front of them for a few seconds until Dye’s voice filled the air.

“Gentlemen…and ladies, I’m gonna go check on the boys, make sure they aren’t celebrating too hard without me.”

As he walked away with Lil tugged against his side, John’s eyes followed them and he pointed in their direction, muttering, “Charlie Robertson,” under his breath.

The jovial atmosphere from before shattered as the group remained quiet despite the raging party around them. And to think…John’s day had started off so well, had gone off without a hitch until that very moment.

He got to see Ruth, and Dye made it back from his 25th Mission, but as Bucky leaned back in his chair, he couldn’t help but be bothered by all the new faces and the lack of old ones.

Even Ruth’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to quell the rising anger and frustration that swirled in his stomach when he thought of the numbers. 

Out of 35 crews that flew in from Greenland, only 12 remained. 

120 men out of 350…230 gone in the matter of a few months. 

‘Will we all just be another number? Another crew marked off the list until replacements come and fill the huts like we never existed in the first place?’ 

These questions floated in his mind while his gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him. “I’m, uh, gonna get another drink. I’ll be back,” he announced quickly, rising from his chair and turning toward the bar. Ruth’s anxious eyes followed him before she glanced back at Hope.

Buck watched him go with a pang of concern and kissed Hope on the temple, promising his return before he got up and followed after his friend. The women shared a knowing look as they watched the men they loved disappear into the crowd. Seemingly following their Majors, the rest of the men got up and trailed after them a few minutes later, leaving Hope and Ruth alone at the table.

“I’m worried,” Ruth muttered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “What happens if John or Gale don’t make it back one-”

Hope cut her off quickly and moved to sit beside her.  “Hey. They’re going to be fine, Rue. Before long, we’re gonna be celebrating their 25th mission, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispered as her gaze fell to the table.

The dance floor cleared over the next few minutes, and just a few couples remained dancing. In the middle of the floor was Helen, wrapped up in the arms of an airman they’d never seen before. Wide grins grew on their faces as they watched her place a few kisses against the dark-headed stranger’s jawline. Over his shoulder, Helen’s eyes wandered to the two women sitting alone, and Ruth smiled, giving her a thumbs up as Hope winked at her.

Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Hope scanned the room, meeting the familiar but concerned blues of Gale across the room from where he leaned against the bar beside John. They talked to yet another new airman the girls had never met, but even she could see the grimace on Bucky’s face as he leaned closer to the man, gesturing his hands out.

She glanced over at Ruth who thankfully was too busy tidying up the mess the men left before returning her eyes to her fiancée. In the few seconds she’d looked away, the replacement airman disappeared, and the two Majors stood alone.

“Come on, Rue. Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?” Hope asked, rising to her feet and offering Ruth her hand with a forced smile.

She knew something was up with John. She could tell by Gale’s body language alone.

The blonde took her hand, allowing Hope to lead them towards the men. But just as they passed Helen and the dancing soldier, Colonel Harding and Major Bowman stepped through the doors and sauntered over the bar, a fat cigar hanging from Chick’s lips. 

“My boys!”

Not wanting to interrupt, the women stood on the outskirts of the group, moving to stand beside Tatty, even though both Buck and Johnny sent them a questioning look. Ruth scanned Bucky’s face, but her smile fell when she immediately noticed the line between his brows and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Listen up! I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover. He thinks you sissies could be getting flack happy.”

“No, not us, sir,” the airmen chorused.

“I told him war is war. The longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. And it’s been that way since the first caveman son of a bitch picked up a club and went after the other. Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?”

As the men shook their heads, Ruth and Hope shared a wary glance. 

Where was this going?

“No! Damn sure not! What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight. What you do between battles…” Harding trailed off with a chuckle, smirking as he took a drag of his cigar.

Hope watched as Buck remained stoic, no reaction on his face, but John looked over at Ruth, sending her a wink. “I like your style, sir!”

For the first time, Bucky’s wink didn’t make her heart skip a beat…it made it drop into her stomach. His grin was so clearly forced that her mind went haywire, and he was the only thing she could focus on. Sensing the blonde finally picked up on John’s demeanor, Hope silently intertwined their hands, squeezing Ruth’s reassuringly.

Red broke his silence, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. “Aerial combat like this hasn’t been around since the caveman, sir.”

“Of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties,” Harding dismissed the Major, turning to look at the dance hall. A few seconds later, his demeanor changed, and his voice grew serious. “Who the hell decorated this fiesta?”

Everyone looked around the group before Jack hesitantly spoke. “I put together a committee, sir.”

Craning their heads to see around the Colonel, the women confusedly searched the hall for what he possibly could be upset about, but had no such luck.

“The damned plane looks like it’s in a nosedive.”

The sound of chuckles filled the air as John grinned over at Ruth. “Fire ‘em. Fire the committee…Ruth can decorate next time.”

She did her best to smile back at him, but it was just as forced as the grin on his lips.

“I won’t bother next time,” Kidd muttered.

Harding seemed to move on and faced the men again, waving them all closer. “Come on, get in. Come here. Got something to tell ‘ya.”

Hope and Ruth stepped forward, watching the Colonel over Tatty’s shoulder, their eyes moving between their Majors and the CO. 

“You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?” Chick asked, his face scrunched into a half-grimace as he leaned into the group. “We fill up one of our forts with as many 500-pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler’s hidey-hole.”

The grin on Johnny’s face fell, and he tilted his face to the floor with slightly pursed lips for a moment before returning his gaze to Harding. His forced smiles and strained banter only added to the underlying tension in the room. Ruth’s fingers tightened around Hope’s hand, seeking reassurance as Chick continued.

“I’m sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker.”

Bubbles grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, now who’s flack happy?”

The second the words left John’s mouth, Ruth’s heart plummeted, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She held her breath waiting for what would happen next.

What happened in the last few minutes to change his attitude completely?

All the officer’s went silent, shooting each other worried looks while Bucky and Harding stared at each other.

“Who?”

“You are,” John nodded, his expression bearing no trace of any amusement.

Harding smirked, “You are.”

“No, you are,” Egan leaned forward, thwacking Harding’s chest with his hand. “Sir.” 

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as the atmosphere became even more tense, the room seeming to hold its breath. Gale quickly glanced over at Hope, his eyes filled with concern, much like the rest of the officers. The blonde beside her didn’t notice Buck, unable to tear her eyes away from John, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of an outburst.

The Major and the Colonel stared at each other until a smirk broke out on Chick’s face and he chuckled, the rest of the group following suit when the tension eased.

“Mmm, Single fillies. Come on, boys. Let’s get the lead out!” Harding smirked, taking a drag from his cigar, and left the party with Red trailing behind him.

The officers dispersed out onto the dance floor, leaving John, Gale, Hope, Ruth, and Benny at the bar. 

Gale turned to catch Hope’s eye, his face saying ‘hold on while I talk to him’. Hope nodded in agreement, catching Ruth’s arm and leading her away from their men. 

“What about John?” Ruth looked hastily over her shoulder for him, meeting his conflicted eyes momentarily, but Hope pulled her on. 

“Gale’s going to talk to him, it’ll be okay. They’ve been through a lot, remember? It’s bound to catch up with them all at some point, and we just need to be here to help them if they fall.” Hope led her back to the table, sitting her down and placing the glass of ginger beer in front of her. 

Hope hated watching Ruth’s worried eyes keep darting back toward the boys, but she knew that her own eyes kept drifting back to Gale’s. If this evening had taught her anything, it was that life was more precious than they could ever realize, and each moment should be cherished. 

They needed a distraction from their anxieties, and Hope blurted the first story that came to mind.

“Do you remember that day when you were new to the Grove and you walked in on Frank naked?” 

The blonde’s cheeks immediately heated up as she buried her head in her hands, “How could I forget? I’d only known the man for three days.”

Hope laughed too, “Well, it could be worse. On my first day on base, he nearly ran me over with a jeep. That was before he realized I was on his plane. He bought me a beer that same evening to apologize.” 

Ruth laughed, imagining a younger Hope giving Frank hell for trying to run her down. 

“We had a medical technician on our plane with us back then. Joseph was his name. He was a right pretty boy…thought he was the bee's knees but I soon told him otherwise.” 

Ruth chuckled, knowing Hope probably gave the poor boy hell. It was strange thinking back to when they first came to the Grove, the airbase that had quickly become their home and safe haven. 

“It seems like a lifetime ago that I met you, Hope. I thought you hated me at first.”

“Oh, I didn’t hate you…I just thought you weren’t going to make it,” Hope replied honestly, feeling slightly guilty about how she’d misjudged her best friend. “You soon proved me wrong though, Rue. You’re a good nurse.” 

Hope looked up as Gale approached them, smiling brightly at her while John still stood near the bar still looking quite somber. Ruth stood up, quickly excusing herself as she made her way over to the bar, resting her hand against John’s arm.

“Hey,” she whispered, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand and tug him to the door.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she finally asked when they excited the club into the English night, her voice soft with concern.

John pursed his lips and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features before he shrugged. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

“John,” Ruth urged, her voice hardening as she gave him the look that always made her students squirm in their seats. 

And her tone…it was only used when dealing with problem students, the ones who lied directly to her face when she already knew the truth.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”

“What was that, then?” Ruth pressed, refusing to let it go. She needed to know exactly what was wrong…needed to help him in whatever way she could.

But how could he tell her the truth?

He could go down the next day and it would be like he never was there in the first place. Gone like the 230 men they’d lost.

How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she could lose him in the blink of an eye?

That he could lose her just the same?

That he couldn’t write another life-shattering letter to a boy’s family?

His nervousness to confess his feelings was replaced with guilt, anger, and frustration that compounded in his chest, creating a volatile mixture that was bound to explode. 

“Nothing,” he insisted, his tone growing defensive. “Like I said.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Ruth pleaded as she grasped his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know-”

The flood he’d been trying to hold back finally broke, and his voice raised just a fraction as he pulled his hand from hers. “Damn it, Ruth. I said I’m fine!”

The sharpness of his tone caught the woman off guard, and she recoiled slightly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m just trying to help,” she whispered.

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the dance, leaving Bucky standing there in the chilly night. His hands moved to his hips as his chest heaved, the anger slowly leaving his body and morphing into guilt as his mind replayed her baby blues shining with tears and the tremble in her voice.

He was supposed to be a better man, someone worthy of her, and what did he do at the first chance?

Despite the mix of emotions within him, Johnny knew she was only trying to help, only trying to be there for him, and he’d raised his voice at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before following after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing open the door and stepping inside, the sounds of the party filled Bucky’s ears, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the band played ‘Blue Skies’. His eyes scanned the bustling club and caught a glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

John hesitated where he stood in the middle of the club, lost and unsure of what to do next. He knew he needed to talk to her, to make things right, but he also didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. Frustratingly running a hand over his mouth, he caught sight of Gale on the dance floor where he swayed slowly with Hope. Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced in the direction Ruth had gone over Hope’s shoulder. With a nod of his head, he silently urged Johnny to go after her. 

It was the push that he needed to make a decision.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the bathroom door and knocked, his knuckles rapping against the wood gently. “Ruthie, can I come in?”

His heart sank when he heard sniffles from inside.

“Please,” John murmured softly, his voice barely audible through the door.

A few seconds ticked by and he was about to ask again when the door clicked open, giving him a view of her reddened and splotchy face. Ruth backed up, allowing him to slowly push in the door. She stood before him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, barely meeting his gaze as her eyes remained on the floor. John silently stepped into the room and closed the door behind him gently, muffling the sounds of the party outside.

They stood there silently for a few moments until Ruth finally looked up at him, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her softly into his chest, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, doll. So sorry.”

Ruth stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m not mad at you. I just,” he sighed against her hair. “I hate myself for making you upset. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

She lifted her head from his chest and broke her silence, her voice wavering. “Then talk to me.”

John stared at her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair gently as he thought of a way to explain what he felt…the weight he felt on his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ruth,” he muttered, his face tilting to the ground.

“I don’t care,” the nurse answered quietly, reaching up and gently lifting his face to meet her teary gaze. "Just…just please don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence as Bucky nodded to himself with his lips pulled into a tight line. When he finally found the words, his voice was barely audible as he fought to keep his composure. 

“You heard Crank earlier. We’ve lost so many boys, and I-,” he cleared his throat, looking over her shoulder at the wall while fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ruth’s heart broke at his confession, and she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to her, their foreheads pressing together.

“John, you are going to get through this. We are going to get through this,” Ruth whispered. “I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. You can talk to me, alright?”

He released a shuddering breath against her face, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he savored the feeling of her warm touch. The three words he’d been meaning to say all night danced on the tip of his tongue but refused to pour from his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I-”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. You make me so happy, Johnny.”

Bucky raised his hand to cover her much smaller one on his cheek as he sent her a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You…you mean everything to me, Ruth. Everything. And I’m so sorry for talking to you like-”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

John immediately obeyed, tilting his head to connect their lips softly, their worries fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Ruth’s hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss with an eagerness he’d never seen from her before. He fought against every instinct in him urging him to take things farther, but she deserved more than that…they both did.

As they pulled away from the kiss, they remained wrapped in the other’s arms, their breaths mingling in the air between them. John’s gaze softened as he looked into Ruth’s eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He noticed the remnants of tears still clinging to her lashes, her eyes red and puffy, and his hand raised to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’m getting a weekend pass to London,” he said breathlessly, nervously peering down at her. “Come with me.”

Ruth grinned and pecked his lips again softly. “I’d want nothing more.”

In that moment, with Ruth in his arms, John Egan vowed London would be the place…would be the time he’d confess his love for her. 

How he couldn’t imagine life without her.

London…it would be the place that everything changed.

Monday, September 20th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 0700 HRS: 7 AM

Hope let out a long sigh as the C-47’s wheels left the runway in one swoop, rising above the airstrip and leaving the base far below them as they climbed into the clouds. Frank talked quietly to Bill in the cockpit, and both girls couldn’t help but smile at their pilot's antics. He was a good pilot, but as a mentor, he was a hard task-master, and Bill was being put through his paces. Ruth pulled John’s latest letter from her pocket, rereading his words with a small smile.

September 17th My Ruth, Hey, slugger. I hope you’ve had a good few days. Have your runs been okay? Has Frank been nice to you? You know I won’t hesitate to rough him up if not. I have been unable to keep my mind off of you…as usual. Schwarz developed the pictures from the party yesterday, and I’ve found myself staring at our photo for longer than I’d like to admit. You’re just so beautiful…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…have I told you that? Schwarz also gave each Buck and Hugh individual pictures of them with Hope. I’m pretty sure Buck is sending copies of the letter he’s writing from his bunk. You’ll find one of us in this envelope, as well. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as I do. I keep my copy in my breast pocket, next to my heart so you’ll be with me everywhere I go. When I start to spiral, I just look at you and your smiling face, and I remember what all this is for. Every day I ask myself how I got so lucky that you landed on my base out of the hundreds scattered around England, and after months of wondering, I still have no explanation.  All I know is that I kiss the lucky cross around my neck every time I leave and come back from a mission, thanking Mrs. Virginia Morgan that I made it back to the ground…back to you. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t take it back, Ruthie, but I promise to keep it safe until you’re ready to.  I can’t wait to take you to London, doll. Did your CO approve your leave? I can try to pull some strings if she doesn’t. Maybe I could give her a call and use my charm to convince her? What do you think? Stay safe up there for me, alright? Yours Completely, John Egan P.S. The Yankees swept the Athletics in their series, keeping their 9-game win streak alive. We’ve got the American League in the bag! What do I always say? The Yankees always end on top! Remember that, doll. You’ll be hearing it a lot after we win the World Series next month.

Both women received letters from their Majors late the night before and immediately wrote their responses, promising to send them the following morning. But when they were called up for a run before dawn, both dashed to the post room before hurrying back to ‘The Angel.’ 

“So how is the hotshot then?” Hope asked with a grin, amused by Ruth’s embarrassed expression, her pale cheeks blushing deeply. 

“How do you know I call him that?” Ruth asked curiously, but Hope just shook her head with a chuckle. 

“Ruth, you've read his letters out loud enough times when I’m around that I’ve basically read them myself.” The blonde nodded slowly, half listening to Hope and the other half of her too engrossed in John’s words as she reread them again. After a few moments, she looked up from the letter.

“I wrote to my parents about John the other day,” Ruth called out over the engine’s whine, a fond smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.”

“What all did you tell them?” Hope asked with a raised brow.

Ruth’s innocent smile turned into a mischievous smirk as she chuckled to herself. “Well, my Mama always reads the letters, so I wrote the basics for her to tell my Dad and Jamie, but gave her all the details.”

“John’s right,” she laughed. “You are a sneaky woman.”

Shrugging, Ruth pulled out the picture he sent from her pocket, her heart fluttering as she studied it, tracing the lines of John’s face on the small photo. She was glad to finally have a piece of Johnny to carry around with her, being able to whip it out whenever she missed him or just wanted to see his handsome face.

The plane rocked from side to side as they gained altitude, and the large metal bird flew ‘through the ‘gate’ as Frank liked to call it as she moved to full throttle, soaring up into the clouds. 

“Stop being a clot,” Frank hissed to Bill, flicking a few switches in the cockpit with a long sigh, “You know what you’re doing kid, but shit, try using your head sometimes okay?” 

“Yes Sir,” Bill nodded shyly, turning his attention back to the plane's control panel. The girls smiled at each other, listening to the two men bickering in the cockpit

“Where do you think the boys are right now?” Ruth asked, looking up nervously at Hope. She always worried when she thought of where their men could be. The thought of them in harm's way made her sick to the stomach. 

Were they flying like girls were? Were they in danger? 

Hope slouched in her seat as the plane leveled out, “I don’t know, Rue. I’d like to think that they’re at Thorpe Abbotts. Hugh’s probably getting into some sort of trouble or terrorizing poor Harry Crosby. John is probably having some coffee with his whiskey about now at breakfast.” This caused Ruth to laugh lightly at the thought of John’s usual morning routine.

“What about Gale?” 

Hope took a little longer to reply this time. “I think Gale would… well I don’t know. He’s probably either eating breakfast with John, walking Meatball, or he’s with his baby.” 

“His baby?” Ruth sputtered, cocking her head and looking at her friend for the answer.

“His Fort, ‘Our Baby’,” Hope laughed, watching as Ruth nodded, understanding the men’s attachment to their Forts. She guessed they all felt the same way about their own plane, although Ruth thought if she never had to fly again it would be a blessing. 

The pair soon fell into silence, both organizing their mussette bags for the hundredth time, as if they hadn’t checked all their supplies pre-flight. Hope moved up to the cockpit to check in with the pilots while Ruth moved along the racks of supplies, laying out fresh blankets on each cot, humming an Artie Shaw song to herself as she went.

“How’s it going up here, boys?” Hope leant over Frank’s shoulder, watching as the cloudy sky unfolded before them. 

“Can’t complain,” Frank replied plainly. “I think Billy Boy here is getting the hang of things at last.” The young pilot grinned at the compliment and Hope couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled her chest. They’d had several copilots training with Frank, but Bill was definitely the girl's favorite. 

Looking back out the window, Hope pointed towards the dark clouds erupting ahead of them. 

“Hey Frank, what’s that up ahead? That’s not what I think it is…right?”

“That, my dear Hope, is flak fire,” he said regretfully. “Looks like we’re heading to the movies. I suggest you girls grab a seat…Ruth may want a blindfold for this next part.” 

Hope swallowed, nodding quickly before rushing back to her seat. Bill talked quickly to Frank in the cockpit but remained calm, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through before. 

Ruth’s fearful eyes widened as Hope explained what Frank had told her before swiftly strapping herself into her seat. Her mind raced at all the terrible outcomes that could occur. 

What happens if they go down? 

What would happen if they just blew up over Germany? 

She tried to put on a brave face but she knew Hope would see right through it, she always did. 

The plane swerved as flak erupted around them, swooping and diving as the black clouds and wuffs from the Ack-Acks flew wildly around them. Hope and Ruth were thrown around in their seats as the plane swerved, flack bursts shaking the bird. They were very grateful that they always secured all their supplies and stretchers down pre-flight.

Hope’s fingers dug into the metal seat and her eyes closed as her stomach flipped in circles with each turn. She’d not had any issues with her motion sickness since her training, but the urge to vomit up her breakfast only grew as the bile rose in the back of her throat. 

Ruth opposite from her was as white as a sheet, her already pale face now the color of a corpse with her lips set in a thin worried line. Her teeth clenched tightly together and her eyes squeezed shut as flack pierced through the plane's fuselage above her head. 

“Shit!” Ruth shrieked, covering her head with her hands.

“You okay, Rue?” Hope shouted over the noise of the war around them. A glossy-eyed and panting Ruth only nodded quickly in response.

Bullets ripped through the riveted sheets of the fuselage with a series of metallic pings, piercing through easily and sending metal flying into the cabin like confetti. With the chaos surrounding them, Ruth barely noticed when a piece of shrapnel flew past her face, just grazing her temple. Flak fire continued to blast in the air surrounding the skytrain and the noise was deafening to everyone inside. 

How could anyone think strategically in these conditions? 

“OH FUCK!” Frank’s voice shouted from the cockpit as he leaned over to Bill, “Stay with me, kid.” Bill’s lifeless body lay wide-eyed staring straight ahead, his young face frozen, expressionless. “DAMMIT!” 

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Hope called out as she unbuckled herself and stumbled from her seat, edging her way towards him. 

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Hope! What are you doing?!”

She simply sent her a worried glance, seeing the blood trickling down Ruth’s cheek before disappearing from view, and the blonde stared at her in disbelief. When another burst sent burning hot metal through the plane’s fuselage around her, Ruth’s eyes clenched shut, her head bowing as she mumbled a prayer for them, her hand instinctively reaching up for her usual comfort… her necklace….her lucky necklace that now hung around the neck of John Egan.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

In the cockpit, Frank didn’t turn to face Hope when he spoke, his eyes trained on the incoming fire from the Messerschmitts flying in all directions around them. 

“We have been fucked by the fickle finger of fate and today is not our day. We’re down to one engine and she isn’t sounding too healthy. We’re littered with holes and,” he paused, his throat constricting as he motioned to the young boy who lay dead beside him. “And the Krauts…they got Billy.” 

The plane juddered and smoke poured from the remaining engine with a horrendous screech as Frank took a steadying breath. The next words to leave his lips sent a shiver down Hope’s spine. 

They were the ones every airman, flight nurse, and pilot prayed they’d never have to hear…

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down!”

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#a pair of silver wings #masters of the air #hbowar #hbo war #john egan #john egan x oc #john egan fanfiction #major john egan #major bucky egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #major bucky egan x oc #callum turner #gale cleven #austin butler #major buck cleven #mota #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #johnny egan #oc: ruth morgan #oc: hope armstrong #oc: hugh armstrong #oc: frank martin #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #mota x oc #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #26] January, Still

warnings: anyone familiar with bd will see the header image and know exactly which chapter we're on lmao, the tie chapter!!!! starluvrs are their lovely awkward selves, dominant jk, oc is tied to.... a pull-up bar? jk is a perv who just likes looking at her lol, kissing is banned!! the word 'baby' is not!! titty worship, titty sucking, fingering, oral (f receiving), clit spitting, babe likes it messy <3, nose nudging, finger sucking (f), gentle kook <3, bratty oc, ass eating (f receiving (minimal tbh (big sad for jk))), prone bone, unprotected sex, he finishes on her ass!! lovely lovely lovely... until the red witch is mentioned!!! argument!! heightened emotions!! the introduction of the cu ajummas!!! big pouty ending :( fluff, smut, angst

wc: 11k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

If there's one thing you've learned about Jeon Jeongguk in your time, it's that he's a giggler .

In all situations, of any severity, it's not uncommon to see his nose scrunching with dimples in his cheeks, as he presses his lips together to keep them quiet.

Standing at the end of his bed in a pair of boxers, hair dishevelled and the sheen of your glitter sparkling on his skin in the low light of his lamp, he is, again, giggling.

There's something about Jeongguk's laugh - the way it always sounds different and yet entirely 'him', how he stutters for breath and the way his eyes will squeeze together, little puffs beneath them, nose scrunched like a bunny - that always gets you laughing, too.

In bars, in coffee shops, in the gym - wherever he is, the ambient sound of happiness will surely follow.

You echo it back; join in with him. A melody not unique in composition, but wholly yours nonetheless.

Laughter comes easily with him, in the place of awkwardness or uncertainty.

The uncertainty, at the moment, comes in the form of decision-making. Not a good, nor a bad one - the bad decision is already in progress - but a simply inconsequential one.

In either hand, he holds up a tie; one black, one a mixture of blue and purple paisleys.

"Black is sexier," you consider out loud, and Jeongguk thinks the thought you're putting into the decision-making is ridiculous - but he's also a little nervous so he's letting you take your time. Smiling, because it's more fun than succumbing to the nerves.

"Sexier," he nods in agreement. "But it is also my funeral tie."

Your face contorts with mild disgust, a stunted mumble of objection catching in your throat.

"We are not using your funeral tie," you whisper-shout.

Cross-legged on his bed, there's a glow to you. It's probably the post-sex aura radiating, but Jeongguk thinks you look right at home in his sheets. Thinks that maybe it'd be nice for you to stay the night. He's not sure if you will, yet. Hasn't asked. Probably won't.

It's not that he doesn't want to ask. Just knows that things between the pair of you aren't as simple as they feel.

Yet simplicity bubbles around you both as he giggles (again) and tosses the black tie down onto the floor. Will put it away later. For now, he's getting back onto his bed with you, sitting opposite, mirroring you. "Yeah, that's probably a good shout."

Taking his tie from his hands, you run your fingers over the pattern; feel the ridges, how smooth it is, tug it a little to test out the structural integrity of the woven threads.

"So..." you say somewhat apprehensively. It's like both of you are slightly malfunctioning. Sex in and of itself is not new to either of you. Sex with one another? Again, tried and tested. Happy customers all round. There's no need for tension.

"So..." he repeats back in exactly the same tone.

When your gaze drops to your hands, and the tie that's in them, some of the hair tucked behind your ear falls loose. Jeongguk thinks he should push it back, but doesn't. Is trying to wise up to what you deem intimate, and knows that it would likely count towards it.

"Why are we so terrible at this?" you ask with a smile as you look back up towards him. He's like a mirror in the way he reflects your expression, eyes sparkling as if he has tiny little disco balls in them.

"Fuck knows," he shrugs, forgetting himself, and reaching over to tuck the hair back. Just felt right. He'll probably lament it later. "How'd you wanna do this?"

Jeongguk's headboard is flat and upholstered. There are no bedknobs to tie any wrists to. It perhaps would have been better done at your place, but there's no reason why it can't be done at yours another time.

The only real alternative is just binding your wrists together behind your back or above your head. Both are fine with you, but are also things you've done before. You wanna spice it up a little.

Glancing around his room for an alternative, your eyes land on the pull-up bar above his door. You tilt your head, considering possibilities, and Jeongguk follows your gaze. Clocks what you're looking at. Feels a throbbing pump of blood going directly to his cock. Gets a little plumper.

"Yeah?" he questions, knowing exactly where your thoughts are going. "There?"

You nod. "Yeah. There. I think. Maybe. I don't know. What do you think?"

"What's this then, huh?" Jeongguk grins, nudging your knee a little. "Nerves? From our resident Disco Ball?"

"Oh, piss off," you laugh, nudging him right back, unfolding your legs as you hop off his bed and look him directly in the eye. You pull his shirt over your head. Let it drop to the floor. Don't drop your gaze - but he does drop his jaw a little. Nerves? Please. You hold up his tie. "Now are you gonna put me in my place, or should I put you in yours?"

If there's one thing Jeongguk likes, it's a challenge - and the way you're looking at him? Brows a little raised? A smirk on your lips? You're the human embodiment of a challenge, and the one thing Jeongguk likes more than a challenge? 

Winning .

He stands. Says nothing as he comes to tower in front of you, stiff in his underwear, nodding ever so gently as he looks down at you, bottom lip beneath his teeth. His hand skirts up your waist. Strokes. Squeezes.

Guiding you slowly to his door, Jeongguk worries about Jimin coming home unannounced. There'll be no explaining this away.

Still, he wants to fuck you more than he wants to worry about Jimin getting an eyeful.

He positions you where he wants you. Knows it's gonna force you on your tiptoes. Kind of thinks it serves you right for challenging him.

Jeongguk jokes with you, repeatedly making sure you're okay as he ties your wrists together above your head, and then secures the rest of the tie around the pull-up bar. It's perfect.

His knots are tight, thanks to a grandfather who was keen on teaching him the law of the land when he was younger, but he knows how to get you out of them quickly if needs be. He's surprised he's not really used them before in the bedroom.

Standing back to admire his handiwork, the way you look at him is unlike anything he's ever seen before; wanting, needy, restrained.

Nudging his nose up against yours, Jeongguk is reminded of his own desires. Wonders if you'll let him indulge him again. Knows that he'll have to ask.

"What's the rule on kissing?" he husks against your lips.

You smile. Shake your head, and let your nose nudge up against his. "You only get one vulnerability at a time. Either I'm tied up, with no kisses, or I'm untied with kisses. Your choice."

"You're so fucking mean," he says softly, pulling back with a teasing groan.

Jeongguk looks at you now there's a little distance; down, then up. Smirks.

Doesn't look away as he pulls his desk chair out and spins it to face you. Doesn't look away when sinks down into it. Doesn't look away as he slouches into a recline, legs spread, a hand resting by his crotch as his elbow is propped up on the arm of the chair.

Tongue toying with his lip ring, he looks like a fucking asshole. Arrogant . 

God, he's worthy of it, though. 

If you looked like him, you'd probably be a wanker. Toned abs, strong arms, darling eyes full of cosmic entities. He's equal parts saint and sinner, and the way he's looking at you? As if he's deciding whether or not he wants to drag you down to hell or lift you up to the heavens has you apprehensive.

The music hums from Jeongguk's speaker, and you're thankful for it, 'cause you're sure you're breathing far heavier than you should be. Lips a little pouted, resting ajar, the way your eyes don't drop from his gets him all hot and bothered, too - he's just better at hiding it than you are.

"Are you just gonna stare at me all night?" You question, a little attitude in your voice.

Jeongguk's lips curve upwards. "Maybe."

You go to bite back, but notice the way he's palming his crotch beneath his boxers. They're black, so obscure the hardening length within them, but you know him. Know exactly what he's gripping onto.

"Looking at me gets you hard, huh?" You tease.

Eyes dancing over your body, finding his favourite parts and then finding new ones, Jeongguk feels an overwhelming sense of contentment.

But he simply smirks, instead. Plays it cool. "Maybe - but let's not pretend like I don't get you wet."

With a roll of your eyes, painfully aware how exposed you are, you press your thighs together. The trepidation - anticipation - of what's to come has you excited. Nipples hard, pussy wet. Denying it is a blatant lie, but Jeongguk enjoys the thrill of your chase.

"You're cute, Gguk, but not that cute. Don't oversell yourself."

He laughs now. Stands. Walks towards you; brooding and dark in gaze. Tilts his head.

You expect his hand to dip; to spread your legs and first out how much of a dirty little liar you are.

But he doesn't.

He nudges his nose against yours, smirk present. You're not entirely steady on your feet, the restrictive nature of the position you're in unbalancing you. He senses this. Lets his fingers trail up your hips and stroke against the curve of your waist.

Pulling back slightly, dark eyes on yours in the shrouded gloaming of his bedroom, Jeongguk grips your waist a little tighter.

"You're so mean to me," he simpers, trailing one of his hands further up. He ghosts your chest, and secures it by your neck, thumb stroking over your jaw and onto your cheek. He angles you to face him. You've never wanted to touch him more, the tie keeping you bound away from him your new worst enemy. "You really think I'm that hideous, huh?"

Oh, he's sin . Jet black hair and eyes to match, warm skin and sculpted muscles, artwork embedded in his skin, just like his touch is embedded in yours.

"Repulsive," you simply nod. He smirks.

"Shame," he husks. You half think he might kiss you. He doesn't. "I think you're gorgeous."

It's just sex. Just sex. Just thinking with his cock. Doesn't mean it - oh, but what a nice fantasy to indulge in. Maybe he does mean it.

"Hmm?" he teases when you fail to formulate a response. "Did you hear me, B? Hear what I said?"

You nod. "I heard."

"What did I say?"

"I'm gorgeous."

He nods. "Yeah. You are. So fucking hot. Get me so hard," he grits, gripping his cock over his boxers.

Intrusive, is the thought that wonders if Jeongguk is like this with other people.

You wonder if he showered Jiyeong in compliments; if Hayun received such heavy words of adoration. It's not an idea you want to entertain but you can't seem to help yourself.

And so, vulnerable and a little shy, you edge back. Feel a little stupid being so bare for him. Want control over the situation, but you can't get it. Not when your wrists are bound above your head, kept firmly in place thanks to the knots tied by Jeongguk.

He notices the slight shift, but doesn't realise why. Tilts his head. "Tell me what you want."

You look him in the eyes, a little unsure of yourself. He can sense your nerves. Understands something's not quite right. Draws you closer to him.

The warmth of his skin on yours soothes the cold sweat of comparison. 

"Go on," he encourages. "Tell me, baby."

You nudge your nose up against his. Know that raising your worries about other girls will only make things awkward. Of course, Jeongguk would rather know your discomforts, but you don't think they're worth sharing.

So instead, you just say, "want you to make me feel good."

It's a simple answer, but you really do mean it. You think it will distract your brain.

Jeongguk nods. Presses a kiss against your jaw. Lingers. Repeats, just an inch lower, on your throat. Trails down. Is firm with his pressure, tongue wet, teeth grazing. You moan into his touch; one of his hands pulling your waist closer, the other firmly keeping your neck where he wants it.

Amorous in his display of desire, Jeongguk wants you to know how badly he wants you. Kisses with intent. Breaks from it only when he has to. Mumbles against your skin. Tells you how hard he is. How much he wants to fuck you.

Shameless and brazen, Jeongguk pulls away for just a moment. Looks at you, eyes dark, chest heavy as his heart beats beneath his ribs. Darts his gaze from your eyes to your lips.

You mirror him. Chest heaving, the pressure of his touch lingers on your throat. His hands massage your chest. Thumbs stroke over your nipples. He squeezes. Asks, "Can I?"

Mewling ever so slightly, desperate for more, you nod. "Please."

The second his lips come into contact with your chest - delivering pretty kisses, until his tongue swirls around your nipple - your head leans back.

He smiles when you moan, the movement of his lips so subtle but so heavenly, and strokes his hands up and down your body - waist, hips - until he settles on supporting your tits. He squeezes. Toys. Plays. Makes sure the nipple that isn't in his mouth is still getting attention.

There's something about your moans and the way you can't seem to hold them in whenever he's sucking on your tits that just really excites him. Gets his cock twitching a little harder. Makes him deepen the pressure with which he's sucking on your nipple.

He switches sides. Lets a long, flat, wet, lick of his tongue tease you before swirling around the hardened bud. He's gentle in how he sucks, now. Short. Quick. Feathery. Like little kisses, again and again and again.

The sensation has you pressing your legs together as wetness seeps from your pussy onto your inner thighs. All you want is to put your hands in his hair; keep him fixed in position.

But you can't. You're restricted. Forbidden from touching him. Makes you whimper as he builds momentum, moving from side to side, teasing you, stimulating you in a way that you can't ever remember feeling before. It's too much but also not enough. You want him in your cunt; fingers, cock, whatever. You don't care. Just need something. Anything.

"Fuck me," you beg; hushed in the darkness of sin. "Please."

Jeongguk eases up on his teasing, and looks at you with unadulterated hedonism. He's so hard in underwear; precum pooling at his tip. He wants to fuck himself into you so badly, feel your hot walls clamping around in, but knows as soon as he's inside you he's gonna cum. Is so horny he thinks he might die.

Thing is, he doesn't want this to be over. Wants to fuck you endlessly.

You get him so hard. So firm, and thick. Fat . His cock is never redder , never angrier , never leakier , than it is when he's with you. You make him wanna commit sins all in pursuit of an unholy feeling that somehow feels like heaven on earth.

He's gonna die, and it's gonna be all your fault. He knows this. Knows that fucking you is such a bad decision. Knows that he's struggling to separate how good the sex is from how he's feeling.

But desire is dictating his actions now, and you're begging him. You want this as much as he does.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" He grits as he pushes his middle finger between your soaked folds. Even he's surprised by how fucking wet you are. Smirks to himself. "Fucking hell, B. You do want it, don't you?" You whimper. "Tell me what you want. Go on. Tell me, baby."

Oh, the dreaded B word. Has your head all fuzzy and tummy all ticklish. Makes you feel all sorts of strange; worries you about what the fuck is happening between you both.

And yet your eyes stay wide and wanting, lips all pouty. His finger strokes between your folds. Isn't aiming for your clit, nor entrance, just teasing. You raise to your tiptoes, fingers grabbing onto the materials of the tie. He's so fucking mean in the best of ways.

"Huh, baby?" he teases again.

"Fuck me," you rasp, because it's all you can manage as he sinks his finger into your entrance. The muscle in your torso tense immediately, the feeling of him entering you both satisfying and yet not enough. "More."

With a lazy smile on his lips, and heavy-lidded eyes looking down on you, Jeongguk pushes a second finger into your soaked hole. "That better?"

You nod. Whine. Chest heaves. "I wanna touch you, too."

He laughs ever so sinfully, lustful in the way he licks his lips. Swallows. Breathes a relieved sigh; and if he's just started breathing again after a minute of holding it.

And then, he shakes his head. He raises his spare arm, and you're confronted with a sight reserved for only the luckiest of girlies - of which right now? You most definitely are.

The muscles in his torso move beneath his skin; tense. Tight. He's sculpted in such a way that you can't believe he's human, the curve of the socket connecting his arm to his body seemingly just as alluring as the rest of him. A small stripe of hair covers the skin, a little damp, the heat of desire forcing him to work up a sweat - not that you mind. Not in the slightest. 

If anything, it just makes you feel even crazier for how badly you want him. He extends his arm upwards and clasps his large hand around both of your wrists.

The position keeps him just inches or so from you.

He thinks it's too far.

So, he closes it. 

Sinks his lips back beneath your jaw. Licks. Trails to your earlobe. Sucks. Nibbles.

God, you'd do anything to touch him. Your body writhes, any sense of balance lost and entirely depending on him. His hand is so close to your fingers, and you're dying to lace yours with his. The restriction makes it impossible. You whine.

"Let me touch you."

He smiles. Shakes his head ever so gently, keeping his lips locked on your neck. Kisses. Says, "No."

And so you bring out the big guns. "Please, Koo."

He pulls away. Looks you dead in the eye. Says, "Don't call me that. I'll fucking cum in my pants if you call me that."

You pout. Tease him, now. "Don't call you what, Koo?"

Oh god, he's gonna die .

Decides you need a little death first, though, so ignores your taunts and drops to his knees. Buries his face in your cunt. Wastes no time.

He knows how much you struggle to formulate sentences when he's eating your pussy, so thinks it's the safest bet to shut you up. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder for better access, and licks thick slow stripes between your folds. Flicks against your clit. Massages. Sucks.

"Fuck."

Oh, he's pleased . Loves how much you enjoy his mouth. Could eat your pussy for days. Wishes you'd let him do it; just eat you for hours.

Although when he thinks about it, he's got you tied up. He can do exactly that.

But then... an idea brews.

If you were to say that men can't multitask, Jeongguk would take great offence. This, right now? Prime example. He's got leaking on his tongue, pussy wet and plump from arousal, but is also thinking about other ways to get you coming undone. If anything, he's got, like, the biggest brain ever. Very sexy of him.

His tongue toys with your clit, flicking, before his lips press a pretty kiss against it. You need your hands in his hair. Need to hold him close. Need his nose nudging up against you as he dips down to your entrance.

He's got a hand gripping your ass, keeping the leg hooked over his shoulder in place, while the other reaches to massage your breasts. He alternates between them, keeping his mouth busy delivering pleasure to your pussy.

The pressure of his lip ring is almost impossible to feel thanks to the sheer amount of ecstasy you're in, but every now and again, you notice it. It mostly occurs when he's sucking on your clit, and it makes your legs so weak. Gets your pussy leaking so much. Has you whining. Whimpering.

Jeongguk fucking loves it; the way you sound, the way you taste, the way you feel.

His adoration of your anatomy makes it so hard for him to stop. He doesn't want you to cum yet, wants to wait it out - but fuck. He's gotta have it. Gotta steal this orgasm from you. Needs it.

As he sucks on your clit, the hand that had been keeping your leg steady creeps down to your soaked entrance. Doesn't fuck about. Wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into you. The fullness catches you off guard. Almost has you losing your balance.

"Untie me," you moan, desperate for your hands in his hair.

Still sucking on your clit, he shakes his head and pulls away, releasing your sensitive bud from his lips with a pouty squeak. 

"You know the word, B" he reminds you, looking up for the first time in a while. He doesn't think he's ever seen your eyes so wide, lips so pouty. Your chest is heaving, his fingers scissoring inside you. "Say chess."

You wanna whine. Wanna tell him he's mean - but he feels so good. His nose glistens in the low light, drenched in your pussy and his own spit. Chin, too. God, he's pretty, you think. So fucking pretty. Belongs between your legs. Keeps pushing his fingers into you. Gets you moaning.

For all the times Jeongguk has claimed to be an ass guy, he's somehow entranced by the way your tits look from this angle. So round, and tell proportioned, and - fuck - he wouldn't mind sucking on them again. He's got a plan of action, though. Can't let himself get distracted.

"No?" he teases. "No chess?"

You glare at him. "Fuck you."

He laughs. Shakes his head. "Not yet, baby. Gonna make you cum first."

If he doesn't stop calling you baby you're gonna fall in love with him. It's just science. How the brain works. You've never been good at science, but it seems like a plausible hypothesis.

It's exactly why you need your hands free, so you can keep his mouth on your pussy to stop it from saying shit that makes your tummy feel funny.

But then you realise you do have leverage. You have legs - one of which is hooked over his shoulder. You alter its position slightly; hook it further around his back. Pull him in closer.

He laughs. "Needy, aren't you, baby?"

"Gguk," you whine.

Yes , you are needy. Yes , you want him. Yes , you wanna cum - but fuck !

He makes it so hard to just let yourself. You wanna fight . Wanna prove that you aren't weak. Prove that you have just as much control over the situation as he does.

But then his tongue licks between your folds and swirls around your clit. He retracts. Teases, once more, with his tongue. Flicks against your bud. Kisses.

He pulls back, again. Looks at the mess all over your pussy. Grunts in approval. And then? He spits .

"Fuck."

Jeongguk delves back in. Spreads his spit with his tongue. Laps against you like a thirsty dog drinking from a puddle. Doesn't stop. Keeps fucking his fingers into you.

The sensation of pleasure charging through your body is electric. It builds and builds - and then he's sucking again. 

It's too much . Too good . Gets your toes pointing. Your leg clamps behind his back, keeping him in position, as the walls of your pussy do the same to his fingers.

Your whines echo in the room, Jeongguk holding your hip to keep you steady with his spare hand as you begin to shake. Wants to speak. Wants to encourage you. Knows he can't pull away. Doesn't wanna ruin your orgasm.

Instead, he hums as he sucks, lips vibrating. You're almost fucking crying from how good it feels. Moaning his name, cursing to the high heavens, breaths velvety as you whine.

"There," you can barely manage. "There. Gguk, I'm gonna - fuck. Gonna cum."

You don't need to tell him. He knows. Hums again. Yeah, baby. I got you.

The build of electricity reaches capacity. The voltage is too high. Gets you shaking - trembling - as you writhe in position. Your balance is totally gone, Jeongguk is entirely responsible for keeping you in position as your walls throb around his fingers. He keeps his mouth on your cunt, not wanting to part from it, until your body jolts from the overstimulation. He's fucked around with you enough to know when you're spent. Know this is it.

He pulls away slowly. Is gentle as he withdraws his fingers from you. Kisses your thighs as he holds your hips to keep you steady. Gets to his feet gradually, leaving kisses all the way up your body; below and above your belly button, between your ribs, sternum, above the heart of yours that is beating a mile a minute. Stops only when he reaches your lips. 

Instead, he nudges his nose against yours. It's still wet from your pussy, though his chin mostly left the stain of you on your own skin as he journeyed up it.

And then, delicately, he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. Smiles. "Hey."

As you reply with a small, giggly, exhausted 'hey', he stands up straighter, and presses a kiss against your forehead.

"You good?" he asks.

Nodding, you mumble a response for him. You're so spent. Looks so pretty, eyes glassy, skin sparkly. He's got a hand on your throat, stroking gently, but keeps the other one away. It's covered in your pussy, and he doesn't wanna dirty you - but as you notice it, your lips part. His lip ring? Does the thing

Eyes wide on his, you move your gaze between them and his hand. Don't wanna speak yet - still a little giggly - but want him to know you wanna clean him up. He gets the message pretty easily. Brings his fingers to your lips. Presses his own lips together as yours part.

"Christ," he curses as he watches you suck on his fingers. Can't believe you haven't sucked him off yet. Knows he'll die when it eventually happens.

Jeongguk lifts his spare hand. Fiddles with the knots keeping your arms above your head. They ache. You're pretty sure there's no blood left in your hands. He sort of realises they'll be sore, so doesn't let them fall.

He keeps them bound around the wrist and lowers them gently. Keeps your arms straight, and loops them over his head, your elbows resting on his shoulders for a little extra support. Finally withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and strokes your arms with both of his hands.

"You okay?" he checks again.

"Think my arms are gonna fall off," you pout, but he just smiles. "I mean it. So mean."

"Always couldda said chess," he reminds you - and he's right.

"Didn't wanna."

"Well, then it's your fault if your arms fall off."

"Would you still fuck me?" you hum. "If my arms fell off?"

Jeongguk furrows his brows and shakes his head with a little confusion - but not denial. Instead, he says, "I'd miss your hands - and your wrists - but, yeah? Course I would."

He can't see a reality or version of you he wouldn't wanna fuck. It's the curse of knowing how good your pussy is; hates he can't have it forever, so will bury himself in it as often as he can while he still can.

The certainty of his answer makes you feel all fuzzy. You put it down to the orgasm.

He reaches behind his head to fiddle with the knots around your wrists and loosens them for you. As you pull your hands back around, he rubs at your wrists, making sure you can move them okay. Worries that maybe he tied you up a little too tightly. Tosses the tie on his bed so can be fully present.

Gentle with you when he needs to be, Jeongguk really is the best person to help you through your issues. He's attentive and careful, conscious of your needs while never making you feel like he's sacrificing his own.

The truth of the matter is that he never is. 

The biggest turn-on for Jeongguk is having a partner who enjoys what he does. He likes praise. Likes compliments. Feels fulfilled when a partner cums, and even more so when they give him that look after he's done. The same one you're giving him right now.

Almost as if you know what he needs, you smile and whisper, "thank you."

"What for?" he whispers back, a little obtuse but wanting clarity.

You run your hands up his chest, and settle them by the base of his neck. It's so nice to touch him again. "For making me feel good. You always make me feel so good."

"Yeah?" He asks with a teasing smile, keeping you talking because he can't stop thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. Doesn't realise he's looking at your lips.

"Mhmm," you nod, not noticing his eyes - mainly because you're looking at his lips, too.

The space between you both is so minimal that it would take the smallest of movements to sink into one another. You wanna kiss him so badly, but know that it's unwise to make a habit of it - so you pull away.

He regretfully lets you go. Watches as you walk to the bed, and kneel onto it. Lowering yourself into position, Jeongguk lets a smirk linger on his lips.

Face down, ass up, you're a fucking vixen - and the way you hold your hands behind your back? Encouraging him to tie your wrists again? God . You're a deviant. Hellish. So fucking hot Jeongguk can barely control himself.

Slow as he gets himself into position, Jeongguk grazes the curve of your ass with his fingers. Looks down on you like a man possessed.

"Sure?" he asks. Knows you came hard. Worries this won't actually be all that great for you.

"Do me a favour?" you hum into his sheets.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

Jeongguk exhales a stunted laugh, the smile on his lips fond as he shakes his head. "You've such a way with words."

"You should see what else this mouth can do," you tease, not looking back at him. Hearing the swipe of the tie being lifted from his sheets, your walls clench . It would be embarrassing how easy it is for him to turn you on, if it wasn't for how much you know Jeongguk likes it.

Fingers clasping around your wrists, Jeongguk takes his time. The fabric is smooth and silky, but there are marks from where it dented your skin before. He doesn't secure you as tightly, but is still firm as he knots the fabric together. Hands secured by the small of your back, Jeongguk knows he isn't gonna last long.

There's a soft sound of cotton against skin; Jeongguk ridding himself of his underwear. You can picture it - how hard his cock is, the slight wobble as he moves, prick firm and standing to attention. You imagine how tight his balls must be, and how leaky his pretty head is, precum seeping from his tip.

Expecting to feel him enter you, you relax your body. Sink into the downward position with a curved arch to your back.

Instead, Jeongguk sinks a single finger into you. Mumbles to himself. "Still so fuckin' wet."

He withdraws. Strokes the supple skin of your ass. Spanks it softly. You squeak quietly, satisfaction lacing your tone, all pleased and purry. Jeongguk might die.

Still, he's determined to take his time. Crouches behind you. Anyone else and you'd probably feel a little insecure, but you know how weak Jeongguk is for ass in all capacities. It's hard to feel shy when he drools at the fucking sight of it. It's not just your ass though. He's pretty sure he's never liked another pussy more. It's just right for him; in how it feels, and how it looks. Exactly the kind of cunt that makes his dreams wet, cock hard.

He licks a thick slow stripe up your folds. Drags his tongue from your clit to your entrance - and then sinks it into your hole. Holds onto your thighs as he gets as deep as his tongue will allow him, stroking at your walls. His nose presses against your perineum, and - fuck .

You'll let him do it, you decide. If he asks to eat your ass, you'll let him. Won't say no.

But the most cursed thing of all? You want it. The anticipation, the knowledge that he wants it, god, it just makes you want it so badly.

So badly, that you have no control when you say, quite out of the blue, "higher."

It's a single word that could be interpreted in many different ways, but he knows. His tongue is still in your cunt, but he knows you're asking for his tongue to be higher.

And so he does it.

He withdraws from your creamy hole and flicks his tongue upwards. Teases your perineum. Gets you moaning even harder than you had been before. Kisses. Moves to your thigh, so he can sink his teeth in a little.

And then, with one slow, flat lick, Jeongguk drags his tongue from your clit, up your folds and past your entrance, until his wet tongue is on your tight muscle. He doesn't press down. Just licks. Spits. Spreads it with his tongue. Gets you feeling all sort of fucked up. He mumbles a groan of satisfaction against you. Is barely even eating your ass. Not like he knows can. Not how wants to. He's saving that. Will eat your ass properly, one day.

He pulls away. Smirks when your moans sound all whiney.

"Fuckin' love your ass," he husks as he stands behind you and lines his cock up with your entrance. Spits down, and watches as it trails over your asshole and down to the tip of his cock. Resting his thumb against the puckered muscle, Jeongguk puts a little pressure on it. He's not gonna penetrate it, but he is gonna think about it.

Just wants you to see how good it can feel; have you imagining how much better it could feel if he did toy with your ass like he wants to.

He sinks his cock into you slowly. It's a miracle you can stretch enough for his girth, but Jeongguk's correct when he thinks that your pussy is made for him. The fit is just right. Snug and warm, all wet and wanting, it's like coming home.

It's so comfortable. Exactly what he needs to come undone, and as his hips buck against your ass, his hand gripping the tie around your wrists, he knows it won't take long. Your pussy strokes him to perfection; and he wants it to. Wants you to make him cum. Wants to return the orgasm he took from you.

He pushes into you, deeper, deeper, until he's mewling. "God, you feel so fucking good."

You wanna encourage him but all you can do is moan. You're still sensitive from earlier and know that It won't take much to get you cumming again - and when his spare hand comes around the front of your body to toy with your clit? You're a goner.

His name lingers in the back of your throat as you whine. He's delirious. Keeps fucking himself into you because he's building and building and is so close to reaching his climax. Can feel everything. The clamping of your walls, the wetness of your cunt seeping around the base of cock, god it's all so good.

"Cum for me again, B," he encourages. "Let me feel you."

Hypnotic in the way his commands have you doing exactly what asks of you, your body unravels like a tie coming loose - but it's not at all. You're fixed in position and it makes you cum even harder.

The pressure of your orgasm around his thick length has Jeongguk cursing. He's there. Can't hold back. Pulls out only cause he feels like he has to, and continues jerking himself over your ass until he erupts with thick spurts of cum.

He paints your hands with his orgasm, every last drop being spent on you. It soaks into his tie, but he doesn't give a fuck. Squeezes his shaft to make sure sure the evidence of his pleasure is all yours. Watches as a white bead gathers at his slit, the final dregs of his cum all yours.

He collapses beside you on his back, a hand over his chest, lungs heaving beneath his ribs. Stares at the birds. Wonders how the fuck he got here.

Your body copies his, your chest and tummy now flat against his sheets, arms still bound behind you. Just as whimpery as Jeongguk is breathless, you can't imagine ever having a better fuck than that. Eyes closed, your lips settle into a pleased smile.

"Fuck," you sigh.

"Again?" Jeongguk jokes. "Don't think I'm ready, B."

You laugh and shake your header further into his sheets. "Think I'll need a few days."

This amuses Jeongguk, mostly because he knows he'll probably wake up with a boner, and you'll probably end up with it in your cunt. Just makes sense.

"You okay?" he asks as he turns to face you. The pleasant hum you nod is ethereal, as if you've just been blessed by an angel, not fucked like a devil. He reaches over to undo the tie, and doesn't care about the fact he gets covered in his own cum. Just tosses the tie to the floor and wipes his hands on his sheets. Will sort it out later.

Flexing your fingers, you turn to rest on your side - again, not giving a shit about the small puddle of cum on your back. Whatever. It's his problem.

"Thanks," you smile.

"For which part?"

"Untying me," you confirm, then adding, "and for tying me up, actually. And the sex. Now that I think about it, especially the sex."

You could listen to Jeongguk's post-sex laugh for hours. It's so breathy and light, free of all stress. A world away from the mood he was in when you arrived, you're so pleased to have Jeongguk back. Happy to exist with, and happy that he seems happy, too.

Reaching over, you push some strands of hair back from his face. He looks sleepy. "Tired?"

He nods, and closes his eyes.

"Sleep?" You suggest.

Again, he nods.

"Where should I sleep?"

He shrugs.

"Here?" You ask.

He nods. You're secretly pleased.

"Am I taking the bed or the floor?"

He pouts. Thinks you don't need to ask. "Bed."

"And you on the floor?" you grin, pleased with how his lips purse, brows scowl, at such a suggestion.

"No," he huffs. "Me. Bed."

"Both bed?"

"Both bed."

Who are you to object when he's all pouty and sleepy, face squishy and dewy in the comedown of a fuck that was way too good to be a fluke?

You're staying.

The pair of you clean yourselves up. Brush your teeth together and grab a glass of water to share. Boundaries seem to be null and void these days. You sleep in his shirt, and he in his boxers, as if that's a totally normal occurrence for a pair of besties. You don't think it's that odd.

As he tries to sleep, Jeongguk questions the morality of what's going on between you. Wonders how healthy it could be, knowing full well the road you're embarking upon rarely ends well.

He thinks he's in a good spot with Hayun, now. Went for coffee with her last week to make sure she wasn't mad at him for the way he spoke to her in the club. She apologised. She explained herself. Said it felt weird to have been replaced. She knows she only has herself to blame, but it still stings.

You've put a lot of trust in Jeongguk. He never wants to hurt you in the way that Hayun hurt him. Never wants to cross those lines, and yet he knows how intimate you think sharing a bed is. The lines are already a little blurry.

If you want to keep things platonic, then outside of the sex, it should be platonic.

He sighs. Stares up at the birds. Doesn't know what the fuck to do.

And so as much as he'd like to, he doesn't hold you in the night. Doesn't shuffle in closer, or rest his arm over your hip like he knows would feel far more natural to him than turning over and away from you.

He showers with you in the morning. Fucks you again, 'cause he remembers that without the sex, it's entirely romantic to share such an intimate space with another person. Makes you both breakfast as a thank you for dinner the night before.

Hair waving around his features, a flannel shirt hanging over his broad shoulders and light jeans hiding away just how toned his thighs are, he's every bit the heartthrob as he insists you leave the dishes.

Your hair is pinned up, and just as dishevelled as his is, but he likes it. You're still in one of his shirts, but it's a smaller one. Fits you better. Is still baggy on you, but he'd watched on as you had tucked the back hem of the shirt up beneath the strap of your bra where it fastens shut.

Was confused at first, but is well aware of how fantastic your ass looks in the jeans you're wearing thanks to the shirt not getting in the way, now.

Large enough that the excess fabric reaches the waistband of your pants, the shirt billows ever so slightly. Untucked at the front, Jeongguk wonders what kind of magic women must hold. He's seen girls wear shirts like this before. Just had no idea how they did it. Thinks maybe he shouldn't know the secrets of womanhood, but likes learning about you, so doesn't think about it too hard.

The shirt is from a concert he went to with Tae while he'd been at uni, and it just reminds him of those days. It's why he never wears it. Reminds him of the early days with Hayun, when there had still been the promise of something great.

You're redefining it, though. Making it brand new. Not changing his past, per se, but altering the way it impacts his future.

"Promise me you won't study too hard?" You plead as you get your shoes on to leave.

He refuses.

"Jimin's keeping tabs on you for me," you tell him. "If you go more than 4 hours without a break, he'll text me and I'll show up and force you to."

"Oh yeah?" Jeongguk entertains your threat. "How so?"

"Dunno," you shrug with raised brows, standing straight now your laces are tied. Tote bag over your shoulder, loose waves framing your face, Jeongguk wonders how many people will give you second glances on your walk to the subway station.

So much so, he doesn't really realise he's putting on his shoes, too.

"Oh?" you hum. "Going out?"

He pauses. Realises. Plays it cool. "Need to get some stuff from the shop. Will come with."

Jeongguk counts four middle-aged men, one girl in her twenties and three teenage boys who look at you a bit too long for his liking. He's not territorial, and especially not over you, but he's very recently fucked you. Maybe he is a little possessive. Sue him . He just doesn't like sharing. It's been well-established.

And in fact, it only gets further established the next weekend, when he picks a sticky note off the wall and reads it aloud: " threesome ."

It's his handwriting, and he definitely did put it up there, but he still looks at it with such shock he can't believe either of you would suggest such a thing.

"Good job Jimin's home," you deadpan. "Will make this a lot easier."

"What! No! Byeol!" And then he whispers, but also kind of shouts when he says, "You're not fucking Jimin again."

"Oh, so you can?" you retaliate, face straight, because you're trying to appear deadly serious. He's falling for it. "But I can't? That's not fair, Jeongguk."

"Wait- What?" He exasperated. "I'm not fucking him either! Neither of us are - Christ Alive. We're not fucking Jimin."

"But it makes sense!"

"We," he signals between you both, eyes struck with horror. "Are NOT fucking Jimin."

"But-"

"Byeol!"

"Koo," you pout, and he thinks if he doesn't die, then maybe he'll just kill you instead. "What if I want it?"

You absolutely do not want it - but you do want to keep winding him up. It's so easy when he's in moods like these, a little stressed and fuse far shorter than usual.

"I- Byeol," he sighs. That's fucking name. Always weakens him. You're a menace, he thinks. "That is beyond the point."

"Please," you pout even more. God he hates how cute you look. So much harder to stand his ground. "Would be so hot."

"How?!" He pushes his head back in disgust. "How would me and Jimin fucking be hot in any way shape or form."

You smirk. "Really want me to answer that?"

"Absolutely not."

And so that sticky note is placed to the side; one to revisit when Jeongguk is less stressed and you're less hellbent on insisting it should be with Jimin.

You know that a threeway with Jimin would probably be fine, but don't wanna risk anything that could impact their friendship. A neutral third party is needed, and as far as you're aware, Jeongguk's preference is girls. It makes sense for you both to seek out someone together that won't impact your daily lives.

You'd rather bring another girl into the mix. Think another guy could maybe give Jeongguk a complex. He's already stated before that he doesn't wanna be cucked, and watching another guy fuck you might make him feel that way. Mutual comfort is needed - plus who doesn't love a good pair of tits?

If he's still spewing bullshit about being an ass guy after watching you play with another girl's tits? Then he'll forever be a liar.

You've also had two mildly disappointing shags with Jimin. You don't need to add a third. Reckon that maybe seeing how well Jeongguk fucks could give Jimin a complex, too.

The topic of conversation comes up again after the next sticky note - spooning sex - is completed. It was ideal because you could remain incredibly quiet given that Jimin is in the apartment, but is also secretly one of your favourite positions. One that always makes you feel so incredibly safe. And the way Jeongguk hugs you afterwards? Doesn't leave you? Presses his torso to your back, not caring for the fact it was where he finished? Oh, god, he's a dream.

"Sorry for being so defensive about it all," he mumbles into your hair. Loves the way it smells, today. Thinks you might have gotten a new shampoo. Doesn't ask cause he doesn't wanna be a weirdo.

"I was only winding you up," you admit. "I don't think it should be with Jimin."

"No?" he confirms, a weight lifting from his chest.

"No."

"Good," he whispers. "It shouldn't be someone we know. I'm no good at sharing."

A laugh catches in your throat. Hardly news.

"I'm not yours," you remind him.

"I know," he says softly. Presses a kiss against your hair. Squeezes you tighter. "Placebo though, init. Sometimes when we're fucking, it feels like you are."

He's not wrong - but it doesn't mean it's right . Both of you know that sex is just sex.

The birds above you watch on with great curiosity. None of them have dropped in quite some time. It's almost as if they're waiting. As if they know something neither of you don't.

You don't think it's safe to indulge in such thoughts. And so you change the topic. Divert feeling of the heart elsewhere.

"Have you spoken to Hayun lately?"

Jeongguk is silent. Doesn't let you go immediately, but eventually rolls onto this back. You stay positioned just as you were; avoidant of his eyes.

"Do you really wanna know?"

You shrug. "As the girl you just fucked? Not really, no. As your friend? Yeah."

It's an answer he can't fault. He's so fucking nosey when it comes to Seokjin but never forces you to talk. Knows that if you started talking about him now, he'd find it incredibly... saddening? Hurtful? He's not sure. Just wouldn't like it.

But you're asking . You want to know.

"Uh, yeah," he admits. "We're fine. She like, apologised for being difficult on New Years, so I sorta buried the hatchet. No point crying over spilt milk."

You nod. 

Feels like the hatchet is in your back, now.

The full details of their argument was never disclosed to you, but it doesn't matter. She was still awful to you. You're never gonna like her. Refuse to play nicely.

Sitting up, you reach down for Jeongguk's shirt to wipe off your back. Would get a tissue or something, but sometimes he has to deal with his own messes, and think that maybe this is one he should have to clean up.

He knew you didn't want to know. Is frustrated with himself for not listening to his gut. Should never have fucking said anything. You grab your underwear and pull them on, hiding yourself away from him as you do so.

"B..." he says quietly, not really sure what he's supposed to do.

"What?" you snap a little, even though you don't mean to. 

It's not fair for you to be mad at him. 

They've got a shared history that runs deep. He was never gonna cut her off, and you never would have wanted him to. All you want, really, is his happiness and - regretfully - she seems to be a big source of it. Not that you've actually seen any evidence of this.

"C'mon," he pleads, as you cover yourself up as you scan the room looking for your bra. It's somehow by the window, so you get out of Jeongguk's bed and head towards it. Don't turn around. Don't wanna look at him with anything you deem to be intimate exposed. "You asked ."

"Well, I shouldn't have," you say quickly, and that's when you realise how fucking mean you're being.

You asked for honesty. You can't punish him for it.

Pushing your hands back through your hair, you sigh. Don't wanna face him, but know you have to. Clasp your bra together for the sake of a little dignity.

"Look," you groan, tilting your head back. Sort of feels like you might cry, and when you turn to face him? Oh, god. It's even worse. Jeongguk watches you with such pain embedded in his features that you can feel his hurt. "She's your friend. I get that. You can talk to me about her... I just..."

Jeongguk considers staying silent, but you can't formulate your words.

"It's just that sometimes when we fuck, it feels like I'm yours," he offers, repeating his earlier thoughts back to you, switching the roles around.

And all you can do is nod. "Yeah. Sometimes it does."

You drop your gaze. Sniff. Apologise. 

Jeongguk's out of his bed, underwear quickly pulled back on, and in front of you within a second.

"Hey," he shushes you, pulling you in for a hug. "B, c'mon. Don't get all soft on me. What's happened to little miss bad bitch? Hey? Where is she?"

God, he's too fucking nice . Skin warm, heart thumping steadily in his chest, he's so soothing. He rubs your arms as he holds you tight. You don't really cry, but it sort of feels like you will at any given moment.

Eventually, you just shrug. "I think maybe I'm bad at sharing, too."

"You're not sharing," he says, and really hopes you know he means it. "And hey, I've seen your ex's name on your phone notifications before. You can't be mad about me being okay with Hayun if you're still okay with him."

And then you realise he doesn't get it. He thinks you're jealous .

You pull away. You look at him with confusion all over your contorted features. "Sorry?"

Now is not the time to say 'forgiven', but he considers it. You look pissed .

"Huh?" Is all he can manage.

"I don't give a shit about you being okay with exes," you exclaim, affronted by the mere suggestion. "Like... I... What ? You could be the best man at their weddings for all I care! We're not together - but you're my friend , and Hayun fucking dickhead to me."

"I know we're not together," he retaliates, defensive now because it seems like you're gunning for him. "But she's my friend, too. I can't throw away years of friendship just because she was mean when she was drunk. Everyone says shit they don't mean when they're drunk."

"Oh fuck off," you say with a little too much gusto. You really don't want to fight - but he's being so fucking obtuse. "She didn't seem to care about throwing away your friendship when she screwed you about! When has she ever done anything remotely friendly?"

Jeongguk rarely looks mad. Rarely looks angry.

But his eyes are black, now.

Your 'welcome' is about to be outstayed and you damn well know it. You grab the dress you had been wearing - one you knew would get him all horny and excited because you were looking forward to hooking up with him again - and pull it over your head.

He mirrors you. Pulls on a pair of sweats. Scoffs.

"I lived a life before I knew you, B. She's got a good five or six years on you. Just because you've not seen any of the good doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

You've got to be kidding me. Your blood is boiling; sizzling up in your veins. ' A good five or six years on you'.

Prick.

The way you laugh is scornful. "You sound like a fucking kid who believes in fairies."

"Maybe I do," he seethes back. "But at least she's making an effort to fix our friendship. What about you? You're still texting your ex. The fuck is Seokjin doing, huh? Other than running off after using you for a quick f-"

He stops himself. Realises just how awful he's being. Looks down. Exhales. Shakes his head.

You're frozen, mouth ajar. Not once has Jeongguk ever been so careless in the way he addresses the Seokjin situation. Never once has he ever made it seem like it's your fault... but he is, now.

Jeongguk fucked himself into you half an hour ago. Whispered shit about how perfect you are for him. And now he's tearing apart your character just to defend some girl who fucked him over for sport.

"What the fuck are we doing?" he asks quietly. Shame washes over him. Good . "Why the fuck are we arguing like this?"

Silence echoes around his room. It's so loud it feels like your ears will bleed. Neither of you enjoy this. Neither of you want to back down, though, either. You're cursed to let it play out.

"Because sometimes when we fuck, it feels like we belong to each other," you say quietly, echoing the sentiment you both felt earlier. "But we don't, and it's pretty clear that there's someone else at the top of your priority list."

"B," he says, with genuine pain in his voice.

You shake your head. Shrug. Lie, when you say. "It's fine. You're not top of mine, either."

He reaches for your hand as you push past him, but you shake him off. Don't wanna stay. Don't wanna look at him. Don't wanna do anything with him.

Jimin's in the kitchen. Sort of looks at you with horror, as fresh, silent tears roll down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your palm, heading towards the door.

You need to put your shoes on, so just say, "please don't ask, Jimin."

He doesn't need to. Heard it all. Is furious with Jeongguk for defending fucking Hayun, yet again. Thought that progress had been made, but apparently not.

"Sorry about him," he just says.

You shrug. Look at Jimin. He can't distinguish your glitter from your tears. "Don't be. Sorry for the noise."

Jimin shakes his head. "Don't be."

Knowing better than to get involved in Jeongguk's disputes, he simply nods. Sends you a text after you leave telling you to check in when you get home so that he knows you're okay. Is aware you'd normally text Jeongguk letting him know, but doubts you'd fancy doing it, now. Waits for a moment, until he hears something smash in Jeongguk's room. Sighs. "Boys."

Rummaging through one of the cabinets for plasters, knowing that Jeongguk most likely needs them, Jimin has no fear as he approaches Jeongguk's room. Knows his frustrations would never be taken out on another person, but has come home to Jeongguk repairing one of his display cases after a particularly bad fight with Hayun once before.

This seems less intense, and yet Jimin can't help but feel like this one is also so much worse. Far more detrimental.

He doesn't knock. Walks straight in to find Jeongguk sitting on the floor against his bed, arms tight around his knees, head down. As predicted, one of the display cases has shattered. He doesn't know how , doesn't really know why Jeongguk thought it would be a good use of energy, but does know that his knuckles are bleeding.

The bed is unmade, and the air is slightly musty but also sweet. Jimin's incredibly familiar with the lingering scent of sex, and knows exactly what will have preceded the argument.

"So," he stays, tossing plasters down to Jeongguk's lap, and taking a seat on Jeongguk's desk chair. Spins lightly. Tries to remain ambivalent. "Still gonna pretend like you're not fucking?"

"Jimin," Jeongguk growls. Doesn't wanna fucking talk about it.

"DB would never do the shit to you that Hayun did to you," he just shrugs. Thinks Jeongguk is in need of some cold hard truths.

"Don't wanna hear it."

"I don't care if you're fucking her or not-"

"Can you shut the fuck up?"

"-but she's done more to help you in the last, what? Eight months? Than any of us could have done for you. She really cares , and if you throw away your friendship with her for the sake of Hay-"

"Oh well, why don't you fuck her, again?" Jeongguk snaps.

Jimin grates his jaw, but doesn't interrupt. Wants to hear what Jeongguk has to say for himself. Kid's clearly hurting, so fuck it. Fine . He'll let him get it all out.

"Third time lucky, right?" He sneers, not looking over at Jimin while he chews him out. " You fuck her again, and you deal with how much she cares , and all her fucking glitter and everything she fucking does for you. Let her hold you to this unreachable standard of being fucking perfect. You can be the one that disappoints her. You can be the one who fucks up. You can be the one that hurts her. You can."

Deep down, in his heart of hearts, Jimin knows that all of Jeongguk's little rant is projection. Rolls his eyes at how much of a baby he's being.

"A little bit of glitter seems like an easy compromise for someone who adores you," Jimin says softly, and that's when Jeongguk finally chokes out a pained sob that he'd been holding in. He doesn't understand why his brain is making him be so fucking mean. He loves your disco ball eyes. "So no, I won't fuck her again, Gguk. And nor should you until you figure this mess out."

Jimin stands up to leave, knowing that Jeongguk needs a little space to breathe. Reminds him, "Hayun's taken, Gguk. She made her choice. Made it over and over again. Fucked you ov-"

"She's single," Jeongguk's voice croaks. He's quiet. Sniffs. Heads all a mess. It's part of the reason he's been pouring himself into his studies. Doesn't know how to cope with it all. "S'why she was here for new years. Is looking for an apartment in the city. Asked me to help next week."

Jimin doesn't know what to fucking say.

A heaviness resides in chest, crushing down on his heart. It hurts.

For Jeongguk, his heart aches.

"Gguk..."

"I don't know what to fucking do."

And though the answer is clear for Jimin, the waters are muddy for Jeongguk. Can't see the sea nor the shore. It's all just murky. Dark. Scary. Out of reach and yet all-consuming; like a tidal wave towering above him, sure to crash down.

"Anyway," Jeongguk sniffs back the tears that reside in his eyes. Shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Got an exam to study for."

For once, Jimin doesn't object. Leaves him be. Texts Yoongi. Code Red. Hayun's single.

Yoongi replies almost immediately.

Fuck. Off. Really?!

It's funny - you think the exact same thing as you get off the subway by your apartment, only to see Tae and Danbi getting on board. Not unusual. You'd say hey, normally.

But it's not normal, not today. Not when Nabi and Hayun are with them, too.

Nabi catches your gaze. Smiles. Waves. You really do like her, just hate the fact that Hayun is her best fucking friend - and why is she still here?! Why can't she just go back to her fucking boyfriend and go live her best life in Seoul? Why does she need to be down here in the city you call home?

She's overstayed her welcome - and as she follows Nabi's smile, she falters when her eyes land on you, just before the carriage rolls away. Pursing her lips, they settle into a smile. Dead behind the eyes, though.

Danbi is facing away from you, so doesn't even notice. She's your best friend - but she's been so busy with Tae and you so busy with Gguk that it feels like you've barely seen her recently.

It feels like you're losing everything you love into the abyss that Hayun is.

"Fucking witch," you scathe to yourself, earning you a confused look from the ajumma beside you. "Sorry. Not you."

She laughs a little. Points to her eyes, then yours. "So pretty," she says, and you know she's talking about your glitter and - oh, you don't mean to be such a mess, but you just can't help yourself when you start blubbering all over again.

Before you know it, you're sat with a gaggle of old women outside the CU, crying over Jeongguk while they give you fucking advice. It's all so mortifying. One of them rushes in and gets you some tissues for your mascara, while another insists on a slice of cake.

All dressed in mismatched florals and gilets, with perms to rival poodles, they're happily talking about your drama because "Eunyeon divorced her husband six years ago and there's only so many times we can hear about his new girlfriend" - although the latest scandal is that he's now seducing the lady who works in the tailor shop around the corner from your apartment. It's why the gaggle of gals are here - they wanted to scope her out.

Instead, they're now cooing over a picture of Jeongguk, agreeing how handsome he is.

"Men like him were made to break hearts," one of them sighs, which earns her a swat against the arm from a friend.

"Oh, shush, Minsu," one of them tuts. Squeezes your hand. " You were made to break hearts too."

They all agree. Nod.

"If I were your age, and I looked like you, I'd have a new boyfriend every week!" Jinnae, the lady who first complimented you and invited you to her gossip session, says.

"I don't even want a boyfriend," you whine. "I just wanted to get over my ex."

This is a fatal error on your part, for they then demand to see Seokjin, too - and if there's one thing Seokjin does better than any other man, it's winning the hearts of women beyond a certain age.

You half think Minsu might have a heart attack when she sees him.

"Men didn't look like this back in my day," she sighs after she's caught her breath. "Oh, honey. I feel sorry for you. I really do."

The pity party continues until one of them notices Eunyeon - the jilted wife - across the road. They make for a speedy escape. Can't be caught spying. Insist you join them for tea next week. Given the fact you've lost both Jeongguk and Danbi to the devil incarnate, what other plans could you possibly have?

When you finally arrive home, you sigh. Kick your shoes off. Get changed, and head straight for the shower. Need to wash Jeongguk off your skin.

And as you take off your necklace and rest the bird by your sink, you can't help but feel disappointed in Jeongguk. A little used.

You've been using one another, granted, that's never been a secret - but you've helped each other. Progressing as people. Healing . Now? Just feels like he was biding his time until Hayun was interested in him again.

Sinking down the wall of your shower, you sit with your knees to your chest, holding them tightly.

Just like Jeongguk still is, in his bedroom, right where you left him.

Your phones both vibrate at the same time - his on his desk, yours by the sink. It's the big group chat. The one with everyone - except Hayun (thank God).

The Usual Suspects [MYG, JJK...(+8)]

Yoongi : May 6th.

Namjoon :... What of it?

Yoongi : You're busy.

Namjoon :...?

Jimin : It's like 4 months away???

Yoongi : So? Keep it free.

Taehyung : ???!!!!!!

Seoyeon : what my darling husband-to-be means to say, is..... save the date!!!

Seoyeon : we've booked our venue!!!!!

Jimin : oh, holy shit

Nabi : AHHHHHHHHHH

Jeongguk : FINALLY!!!!

You : stop, i'll cry omg

Seoyeon : the venue is small - we'll tell you more about it when we see you next, but it means no plus ones :(

Yoongi : You're all single losers anyways...

Taehyung : Ahem.

Yoongi : It's been two weeks.

Danbi : Still counts x

And even though today has proved to you that even the purest of hearts can become weaponised, true love still exists; and what an honour it is to witness it.

Maybe one day, you'll get to experience it.

For now, you'll tuck the bird necklace in your jewellery box and ignore Jeongguk when he finally texts. You've muted your chat. Still check it constantly. Just in case.

You wait all night.

He doesn't text.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bad decisions #jungkook smut

[ghouljams]

imagine Fae!Ghost being forced by love to sit down and do art projects/scrap booking or making little friendship bracelets and he only puts up with it because it’s her and he’s doing her a favor so more hooks! I think it would be so cute! Just this big exasperated Fae man who everyone fears and actively avoids doing art projects with his love because she begged him to.

More Fae!Ghost fluff, the fuckups can be sweet too, please God(my brain) let them be sweet(stop making me horny).

You have completely exploded all over the coffee table. Sitting on the floor sifting through journaling supplies and different colored threads, various scraps of paper from your day and about a million colored markers and little charms. Simon is giving you a wide berth as he tries to find a decent angle to get to his seat on the couch.

"So what're we avoiding here?" He asks, opting to go over the back of the couch to sit down.

"Deadline," you tell him, snipping at the edges of a cream colored paper star. He hums, and reaches past you to pick up a deep red, deeply tangled, bundle of string. He tucks it back against his palm and grabs the pink bundle as well.

"Always good to avoid," You hold your hand out for him to give you your supplies back, watching him wrap the thread neatly around his fingers. "There's a match on soon."

"No footie, I'm trying to focus," Simon frowns with a displeased hum, and settles the neat bundle in your palm. You watch him wrap the next one and are struck with an absolutely brilliant idea. "You could help, it'll go faster and then I can get back to my real work," you bat your lashes at him and rest your cheek against his knee. He stares at you for a long moment before his shoulders drop and he tells you,

"Fine, what do you need?"

Simon is very good with his hands. Which you already knew, but watching him make knots and loop thread is sort of mesmerizing. It's not exactly complicated, but he picks up patterns well, twisting little daisies between his fingers as you abandon work on your own bracelet. You're not sure if he's having fun or just humoring you, but it's nice sitting with him and working on something together.

You rest your head against his knee, writing out your day between scraps of paper. The tag from your morning tea, an event ticket, a sketch of the stamp on your hand courtesy of Simon. You feel so pleasantly warm and full in a way that you haven't since you were a kid. Simon reaches past you to snag a bead and returns to his work, you grab a marker to highlight your favorite parts of the day, the room is full of the quiet sounds of your work.

Simon grabs your wrist off your journal and pulls it to rest on his leg, tying his creation to your wrist. When you're allowed your wrist back you feel your chest swell at the neat little daisy chain, "Love" spelled in letter beads and resting over your pulse. Simon's fingers thread through your hair, scratching the base of your skull lightly.

"Didn't know you could do that," Simon mumbles, and you take your eyes off the best thing he's ever given you to look up at him. You hadn't even noticed until he'd pointed it out, but you're purring.

#Love makes a matching bracelet for Simon and he never takes it off #shows it off to könig who has never been more jealous in his life #me trying to think of the most chaotic hobby to give Love: a journalling #she probably sews too because i sew and i am so messy with it #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #reader x ghost #fae!Ghost #i could make her a doll hobbyist #theres truly no other hobby where you talk about decapitating people and eye removal to that degree

[brdi3]

Just a silly reminder that u do NOT have to throw out ur favorite pants when u wear a hole in the thighs. This took me about 15 minutes (if that, idk exactly how long it was) to fix and I can't feel it when I wear the pants, nor can you see it when I have them on. I'll also link a video (it doesn't have added captions but I watched it through with YouTube's auto-generated captions and they seemed nearly exactly correct. And even without them you could probably learn it just from the visuals) about how to do the stitch I used below the cut and do a brief explanation of my process:}

Backstitch tutorial:

https://youtu.be/sjHm8CL9WDA

Steps for mending:

1) Pin the patch to the inside of the hole-

I used safety pins because I find regular pins endlessly annoying. Since we'll be sewing from the front (you usually want to be looking at the side you want to be the neatest when you sew) you might find it helpful to hold your fabric up to the light and mark where the edges of the patch are, but I was able to figure out that sewing from end to end of the pins would keep me on the fabric.

2) Thread your needle-

I used crochet thread because that's what I had on hand. If you're using regular thread you might want to double it up so it's stronger. If you're mending something white or if you don't care whether the color matches, you can also use dental floss for something very strong. Here's a video on how to thread a needle (again with no official captions but good auto-generated ones)- https://youtu.be/S6u173Ap2mc If you want to use your thread as-is just tie a knot in the long end after threading. If you want it doubled up you can pull your needle to the center of the length of thread (so your tail and your working thread are equal lengths) and tie the two strands together to essentially create a big loop through the needle.

3) Backstitch around the edges of the patch (backstitch tutorial above) -

A backstitch isn't the only strong stitch you could use, but in my experience it's the easiest to learn and keep track of. You can also stitch across your patch in an X like I did, or in lines across it or on any other pattern you want. Your patch will be perfectly secure without these extra stitches, but I like to do them because they hold it flatter against the fabric.

4) Tie off your thread-

Video tutorial for this (same caption situation as the other videos) https://youtu.be/f3Hqv9n95R4

5) Done!!!-

That's it! Enjoy your newly repaired clothes and be free:}

#mending #visible mending #sustainability #sustainable fashion #slow fashion #anti fast fashion #sewing #b1rdie's room

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest. 

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it. 

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to. 

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief. 

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.” 

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.” 

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day. 

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back. 

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears. 

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good. 

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened? 

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration. 

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #cannot gush about the story in tags bc spoilers </3 #i must contain myself #sobbing and crying #but p4 queued for next week #maybe my brain will shut up about it once everything is posted!!! #<- hopes and dreams right here #so sorry this AU is all u get out of me for a while... #I'M ON BREAK!!! I AIN'T LYING!!!

[the-iron-shoulder]

Rathalos!

crocheting is fun in general, but there’s something particularly satisfying about creating Monster Hunter monsters, you know? You start with just yarn and some fluff, and then at a certain point you’re holding a little guy! A MonHun beast! My beastie bestie! (Also I’ve made this joke before, but it’s still amusing to me every time I start with a bunch of monster parts and stitch them together into a monster, since MonHun usually has you start with a monster and then chop off its parts, lol)

he’s approximately 11 in / 30 cm from tail to snoot. Only about 2.5 in / 6 cm tall! I used muuuuch smaller yarn than the pattern called for, just size 3 with a 3.125 mm hook. I think the original pattern expected like an 8 mm hook or something, which is significantly larger than even the hook I made my ginormous Snorlax with! Respect to anyone who feels like making something that big, but I like them just being little like this, what can I say?

I crocheted with embroidery floss for the eyes using a 1.40 mm hook, which was a new experience for me. To be clear, I was using all six strands of embroidery floss (most floss comes with six strands per skein, and then I’ll just use one or two strands at a time for most cross-stitch projects), not just a single thread or anything… I’m sure that’s theoretically possible but I’m not THAT far down the rabbit hole quite yet, lol. The experience of using floss to crochet with isn’t that hard except for the black parts, which are ABSOLUTELY impossible to see, but thankfully that was only a little bit of the project this time.

like most of my little guys, I’m proud of the fact that he can stand up and balance on his own (with neither his head nor his tail touching the table) if you put in a little effort and mess with him a bit! He’s not STURDY (he’ll fall over if jostled at all) but he’s STABLE (he won’t fall over just from his own weight).

I used a couple pipe cleaners twisted together to stiffen the wings a bit. Not sure if I did a perfect job arranging the wire, but considering that I’ve never done it before and I was just kind of guessing where it should go, I think they turned out alright. You can’t exactly pose them and have them stay, but they also aren’t just totally floppy. Good enough for a first attempt, I’d say.

Pattern credit: Blue Fox Paws, Ravelry

#My crochet #i made this #crochet #fiber arts #amigurumi #plushie #handmade plush #crochetblr #monster hunter #monhun #rathalos #rathalos monster hunter #Rathalos monhun #Handcrafts