#these are packaging and paper I save from boxes and mail and stuff

[jaspersfeelinartsy]

Some collage pages from my sketchbook!

[roosterforme]

Well now I’m just thinking about Jake and Darlin’ when Jake has a deployment :(( But Darlin would definitely send the cutest care packages that the US military has ever seen and Jake would be the envy of the ship (???? Idk, deployment group??) because his young hot girlfriend goes all out when sending him care packages and gives him the best stuff

Let's build off of this thought. Darlin' is a good student, and she would be so bored and lonely while he was gone. She would finish her schoolwork and then use her free time without Jake around to make him care packages. When she was at the store collecting snacks and pretty stationery for her endeavors, she would run into Cooper...

"Hey."

You looked up from the silver notecards and the embossed paper to see Cooper standing at the end of the aisle. "Hi," you replied without much feeling. It had been weeks since you made a quick stop at a party with Kylie where he tried to get you to hook up again while Jake went to the bar for Mickey's birthday. You told him you had a boyfriend and excused yourself, but now you realized you couldn't think of anything else to say to him.

"What are you shopping for?" he asked.

You looked back down at the items in your hands. "Stuff to send to my boyfriend while he's deployed," you said boldly.

"Deployed? How old is he?"

You just shrugged and said, "Older than you."

Cooper looked like he wanted to roll his eyes as he said, "Why don't you give me a call if you get bored." And then he walked away.

"Eww," you said to yourself, opting for the silver note cards, adding them to your cart along with the snacks, white tee shirt and paints. "I'll never be that bored."

You spent your weekend writing notes, taking sassy polariods, and packing up a huge box with the snacks spread out on top. You wore the shirt that you made which said Darlin' Loves Jake which may have made an appearance in some of the photos you took. Then on Monday, you send the box off to the middle of the damn ocean where you hoped Jake was safe and sound.

----------------------

Jake opened his mail in the lounge one evening, parusing the letters from his sisters, saving the massive cardboard box for last. He missed you so much, it was hard to sleep. Nobody gave him any attitude whatsoever, and the pizza on the carrier was worse than the stuff you liked.

The package from you did not disappoint, he pulled out mounds of candy and snacks, and the other guys immediately started asking him if they could have some.

"Sure. Help yourselves," he muttered, already more interested in the note cards and pictures.

He was just opening the first envelope he found when one of the guys cleared his throat and said, "I think you dropped this." Jake looked up to see him holding out a polaroid picture of you in a shirt that said Darlin' Loves Jake. You clearly weren't wearing a bra. "Your girlfriend's hot."

"I know," Jake snapped, taking the photo from his hand. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

[mychemicalrachel]

I love the idea of a tattoo/flower shop AU!!!!! also I dunno if you're interested but I always thought there should be more material out there with Ronan dreaming up sex toy type stuff

Send me pynch prompts and I'll write a ficlet!

Oh I LOVE this!! This didn’t get as explicit as I expected but it was really fun to imagine the kind of things Ronan would dream up :3

Adam knew to wait until Fletcher was out of the dorm before he opened any box Ronan sent. His self-care packages, as they'd been dubbed, varied from kinda weird to certifiably insane. To Adam, they were fun. He liked unwrapping whatever new and exciting dream thing Ronan made up, but Fletcher knew that when a box arrived, he should plan to sleep elsewhere for at least the night.

The last time he stuck around long enough to peek inside and see what kind of kinky shit Adam and his long distance boyfriend got up to, he nearly fainted. Nestled carefully among bundles of tissue paper sat an exact replica of Ronan's severed head.

When Fletcher calmed down enough to stop screaming, Adam calmly explained that no, Ronan had not sent his own disembodied head via snail mail. It was a copy— a really good copy— for Adam to use as he pleased. That didn't make Fletcher feel any better and he was halfway down the stairwell before the door fell shut behind him.

Sometimes he sent different flavored lubes, dreamed to fulfill Adam's oddest desires— sweat, pond water, morning breath, and— Adam's favorite— precum. All made specially to match Adam's particular taste, all exclusively Ronan. Tastes that only Adam would know, only Adam would recognize, only Adam could enjoy. He savored these more than he cared to admit.

After the severed head— after it had been thoroughly facefucked, when Adam had enough sense to wonder how he could possibly clean it or if it even needed cleaned, and… god, where was he supposed to store it?— Ronan sent more innocuous objects; a hand that moved when Ronan wore the accompanying glove. A little butterfly thing that fluttered around Adam's head and left gnarly hickies on his neck. A plant that excreted Ronan's saliva from its leaves. A tongue that suctioned to Adam's rim and ate him out until he saw stars. A fleshlight that clenched around him and moaned his name.

So when another box showed up, Adam wasn't sure what to expect. He braced himself, excitement rolling in his veins, and pulled out a dildo.

Just. A dildo.

And it wasn't even hard.

It sagged sadly in his hand. The texture was nice, like human skin, and the weight was just right that he might think it was real if he had his eyes closed. But he didn't have his eyes closed and the disembodied penis jiggled in the air. He sat it down and called Ronan.

"It's a dick," he said when the phone connected.

"It's not just a dick," Ronan argued. "Look closer."

But it was just a dick, no matter how close Adam looked. Pale hairs sprouted from the base and heavy balls hung below. It was a nice dick, but it was just a regular dick. Like any old dick. It could have belonged to any average Joe, save for the only defining characteristic; a small mole on the left side. A mole Adam was familiar with, the way Ronan worshipped it.

It wasn't just a dick. It was Adam's dick.

The fact that Ronan had studied it well enough to memorize it down to the very last detail made Adam preen. His cock twitched in interest and the one in his hand followed suit.

"Jesus," he said.

Ronan laughed. "Does it work?"

He knew better than to ask how it worked. It was a dream thing. It worked because Ronan made it work. With his cell between his cheek and shoulder, he pushed his jeans down his thighs. Wrapping a hand around his dick, he stroked himself and the magic dildo to hardness.

"It works," he said breathlessly. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, don't get too comfortable with it, shithead. I just need you to test it out for me."

"Test it out," Adam repeated. "As in…"

"As in: go fuck yourself, Parrish." Adam could hear the grin in his voice. "Think of it like a science experiment. Lube it up, suck it off, whatever. I just want to know it's doing the same thing Little Adam is doing."

Little Adam wasn't so little anymore. He'd grown, perking up in definite interest. It wasn't the most exciting toy Ronan had dreamed up but the concept was thoughtful. He wanted to keep a piece of Adam with him when they were apart, a way to feel him over the distance. And, Adam figured, it would be quite an experience to literally fuck himself with himself.

"Fine," he agreed. "But fair's fair. I want one of yours, too."

Ronan was more than happy to comply.

[sleepnoises]

hi! apologies if you've been asked this before, but do you have any advice for first time online store owners? i'm thinking about opening one to sell sculptures of my own but i've got no idea where to start, and was wondering if you had any tips to share.

anyways, i love your charming little clay fellows and i hope you have an excellent new year 🤎

i may have been asked it but i can always answer again! tagging this with "clay ask" so you can review past answers

tips:

it's fine to start small and go slow and not optimize everything right away. sculptures are a luxury good and they will usually not immediately start flying off the shelves.

that said: it's nice to track what time you're spending on what. just block it out on google calendar after you're done so you can tot it up at a later time. this tip is super hypocritical but i've done it in the past

i use and like big cartel for my storefront. it doesn't have the fees of etsy or the will sell your stuff twice if people buy it really fast of storenvy. it also doesn't have the discoverability of either, so you'll have to try harder on other social media, but it's a worthwhile tradeoff for me. i don't know anything about shopify and i won't learn

i like pirate ship for shipping labels; it talks directly to big cartel (and a lot of other storefronts!), gets good rates, lets you preview hypothetical packages to check shipping costs, and lets you save package presets. i have a shipping label printer but you should be fine with a regular printer + packing tape.

try to make some reliable size classes of sculpture so you can use a few package settings and not recalculate shipping every time

i try not to buy shipping material from uline because they love trump soooooo soo much. if you have anything local, that's generally a smart call for last minute supply runs, especially because shipping on boxes is spendy. i like upaknship.com for jazzy bubble mailers. i haven't researched their politics but at least they aren't uline

do not put anything particularly delicate in a bubble mailer. i assume you can guess this but a friend once mailed me a plant pot in like. a plastic bag with some shredded paper. so i don't trust what people know about distribution of force in packaging.

you want pressure to be pretty evenly distributed. you don't want anything to be able to twist or bend or snap or rub against itself. you want your packed mailers and boxes to not make any noise when you shake them or to "clunk!" when you drop them on a table from a foot or two up. if you're worried about dropping them that far you have not packed them right.

people will often give you packaging materials if you say you're collecting them

it's nice to have a tape gun... i inherited mine from a childhood neighbor who was a wonderful lesbian

take very careful notes on expenses and income. expect about 25% of $ that comes in to go to taxes (i'm in CA, this might vary)

have a cute logo :) just for fun

these are my THOUGHTS. enjoy!!

[goron-king-darunia]

Okay so instead of checking a search engine, he asked an AI that literally could have told him anything, like to buy stamps at the grocery store which would not have worked.

And instead of finding out post offices exist and asking around there, he just... bought 20 stamps and then instead of saving them, because most USA stamps you can buy are "forever stamps" meaning whatever you pay for them now the stamp should be valid to send the same sort of parcel even 10 years from now, he just... threw them away?

And then instead of just... dropping the letter in the post box or, again, taking it to the post office, or just... PUTTING IT IN HIS OFFICE'S OUTGOING MAIL BOX... the guy had to have it handled by someone else.

And then either he mistyped "disadvantage" as "advantage" in that last bit or he really thinks not knowing how to send paper mail is a flex.

Like, I get it. I didn't send much paper mail as a kid, and when I did, my parents handled things for me, so when I started sending letters and packages, I had to brush up on how to send snail mail even though it was taught to me in school, because there's lots of steps and it's not intuitive.

There's no shame in not knowing how to send mail, no matter how young or old you are. But there IS shame in defaulting to an AI instead of another human being. If you know what Chat GPT is, you should also know what a search engine is. Please start with a search engine or a human being. An AI is literally stupider than you are and if it gives you a correct answer, that's by the grace of God and not because Chat GPT knows what it's doing.

I'm young, so I'm the default tech support in my house. It's annoying. I get mad at my dad for not being able to look up simple solutions to his own problems, like how to set which software opens an MP4 by default on his Windows 11 Laptop. I'm annoyed that he thinks all my knowledge of Windows 10 should give me perfect answers when I've only been operating Windows 11 since January of this year and I don't do the same stuff on my laptop as he does.

But you can bet your ASS that as angry as I am that he cannot look at google first and THEN come to me if he still can't solve it, I am SO FUCKING GRATEFUL that in lieu of a search engine, I'm his go-to for tech problems and NOT FUCKING CHATGPT.

I get it. It's embarrassing not to know how to solve what seem like simple problems by yourself, especially when you work in a fast-paced professional environment.

But my ass with my ADHD and inability to ask for help STILL has the wherewithal to go "I don't know this answer. But I know what the answer ought to look like and I have an idea of what steps I'll need to take to find out." I know which search results are going to have a high amount of accuracy when answering my question, I know which results are ads or irrelevant, I know how to tell when software is malware or at the very least sketchy and I know, approximately, which sites are legitimate and which aren't, even without my extensions telling me. And I understand these are all skills. But it baffles me that we've come so far from the strategies of "how to find things out" going from the very short list of "Find a reputable search engine and read through the results to find an answer you think you can trust and start from there, and if that fails, try a library or another human being." to "Ask the idiot liar box that people use to generate goth anime girl tiddies. It doesn't know how to count how many Rs are in the word Strawberry, but you should definitely trust the idiot liar box to tell you how to fix a leak or change a tire or how to send paper mail."

AI is not magic and it's definitely not intelligence. It is a massive network of computers that has access to human knowledge, yes, but also the entire rest of the internet, including the lies, the probably lies, the unvetted claims, the trolls, the fake science, the hearsay, the rumors. It's one thing to think to yourself "I don't know how to change a tire, I should ask the mechanic if he'll teach me." and entirely another thing to think to yourself "I don't know how to change a tire. I should ask my 4-year-old niece, this book from the 1500s, and that one dentist in a different country if they know how. Surely among all three of these sources someone will have an answer.

If you wouldn't ask a child, you probably shouldn't ask ChatGPT. It's like shooting at an encyclopedia with a buckshot rifle. Yeah, there's a chance your spray pattern will assemble into something like the correct answer. But it's just as likely that you're going to get nothing but junk.

It's really something just how impressively stupid all these self styled "entrepreneurs" are.

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[letskadagetke]

So I've recently seen people do prompts and I was thinking of doing a fluff one for Taehyung. The reader is gender-neutral.

Please enjoy! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜❤️🧡💛

Word Count: 722

Warnings: Curses, just arguing a bit, vomiting, reader is sick.

and that's it.

Summary: You and Taehyung had an argument in the morning and you finished work and a bunch of stuff happened (no, im not telling you) . Of course, Taehyung came to save your ass being the best boyfriend ever.

Enjoy <3

︶⏝︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶⏝︶

"YN, I'm telling you babe, take a day-off."

"Taehyung, I can't. There's a problem with the mailing service and I have to go and fix it." You told him, taking your phone and necessaties.

"Please, just take a break. I'll tell Mrs. Chi that you need to rest." He said, taking put his phone and looking for your supervisors number.

"Taehyung, I'm fine. Look, let me finish and I promise I'll tell you to come pick me up. Is that okay with you?"

He sighed, he originally wanted to spend time with you but with your coughs and high temperatures, he wanted to take care of you.

"Fine, call me when you're done."

"Okay, love you!" You said, he grabbed your waist before you could even do anything and placed a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Waving bye and driving away, you started to regret going, if you went back he'd probably say 'I told you so,' or 'You should've listen to me,'

You brushed the thoughts away and tried to ignore the itch in your throat. Arriving, your supervisor, Mrs. Chi, noticed as soon as you arrived something was up.

"Sweetie, are you alright?" She asked.

"Yeah, just a bit tired." You said, you placed your stuff down.

"You know, the mailing doesn't need to be fixed today."

"But, if we don't fix it, the same thing will happen just like when people stopped cleaning after the meetings."

She sighed.

"Fine, go do it, I guess." She went back to her phone.

You went and saw the baskets of boxes, papers, and packages.

You looked for the things that people were missing and the ones that had to be shipped today on the computer. Your eyes grew tired after seeing the same thing over and doing the same thing over and over. The pain in your stomach grew more and more. You stood up and went to the bathroom to wash your face.

As soon as you saw the mirror you realized Taehyung was right. Your face was red and your eyes were puffy. You then felt your throat itch more, coughs filled the empty sound and later on, the sound of throwing up replaced it.

Wiping the excess puke off your face, you washed your hands and face.

"God damn it," You muttered, getting out of the bathroom, you were face to face with one of your friends, Jihyo.

"YN, don't get mad at me, but I heard you throwing up and I called Taehyung."

"What? No, Ji, I have to finish the mail. I'm halfway done!"

"YN, you need to rest. Also, think of it as a day-off." She said.

Getting a call from Taehyung, you excused yourself from her and answered it.

"Hello?"

"YN, I'm at the parking lot, get your things, we're leaving." He said.

"Taehyung I-," "Shush, let's go!" He whined.

"Fine, I'm coming," You chuckled and got your things.

"Mrs. Chi, I have to leave early, if anything happens, call me." You told her.

"Good! Go rest, you need it!" She said.

You smiled and then looked for Taehyung.

Finding his car, you ran to the car and went inside.

"Can I say it?" He asked, smirking.

"God, fuck you."

He chuckled and started driving back home.

Taehyung sent you some glances here and there.

"YN, why'd you want to go to work?" He asked.

"I just wanted to finish everything,"

"Well, look. If you go to work tomorrow, we're gonna fight." He chuckled.

He parked the car in the driveway and insisted on opening your car door. He turned on the shower, got your clothes ready, and went to make something hot for you to eat.

Before you went in the shower, you gave him a kiss.

"Thank you, Tae,"

"Anytime,"

He kissed your head and you went to shower.

After washing your hair and body, you went and put the clothes he got you. It was cute pajamas, the one he especially liked on you in fact. You smiled to yourself and put them on.

Walking out, you saw Taehyung cooking something at the stove. You went and hugged him from behind, Taehyung hummed when he smelled your shampoo.

"Thank you, Taehyung." You said.

He turned off the stove and turned around to give you a hug.

"Anything for you," he said, kissing your forehead.

︶⏝︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶⏝︶

I hope you enjoyed this small story and please don't repost without my permission. Love youuuuuuu ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Nightcrawler and the Princess

Kurt Wagner x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Being the princess of a small kingdom has its perks. However, you’re not sure this is a secret you can share with the rest of your friends…

Note: Did I make this a subtle crossover with the Princess Diaries? Yes. Yes I did. Don’t worry about it.

Reader is: Female

Warnings: Swears

Word Count: 1.8k

You carried the large box to the lunch table and set it there, in the middle of your friend group. Jean eyed it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Care package from my mom.” You replied, using the pair of scissors you kept in your school bag to cut open the packing tape. “She said there’s stuff for the rest of you in here too. Probably candy or something.”

“That’s nice of her.” Scott smiled, watching as you opened the cardboard box.

“Ah, yep.” You reached into the bag and pulled out several packages of Genovian chocolates. “Here you go, guys.” You told them.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the bags, his tail hovering behind him curiously. He recognized that packaging. “These…I know these chocolates. Does your mother live in Genovia?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m from there, actually.”

Peter thought for a second, already munching on chocolate. “Wait, I thought you were American.”

“Nope.” You laughed, reaching further into the box and pulling out a handful of little Genovian flags she’d sent. “Ah, right. Independence day is coming up.”

“Where even is Genovia anyway?” Warren asked, admiring the little flag once you handed it to him.

“It’s a tiny little country between France and Italy.” You explained. “It’s really beautiful there, though.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” Kurt reminisced, sighing fondly.

“When did you visit?” You asked him.

“Several years ago.” He said. “The circus had a few shows there when I was young. The people were so kind, and the coast sparkled like diamonds.”

“You were with the Munich circus, right?” You asked him, trying to remember. He nodded proudly, a smile settling onto his face. “I was at one of your shows! I knew you looked familiar! Oh my god…” You laughed and shook your head. “I should have put those pieces together sooner.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah! My mom took me for my birthday.” You smiled, remembering the show fondly.

And Kurt knew then the information that you were withholding from the rest of the group. His eyes widened slightly and he studied your features. He remembered you. He remembered that day and he remembered the feeling of his heart hammering when after the show, the Queen of Genovia herself introduced him to her daughter, who was about his age. She’d taken her there because it was the princess’ birthday. Though your meeting was brief, he’d remembered it all this time, thinking of it every once in a while…the time he’d met a princess.

You didn’t look all that different now than you had then. Why you hadn’t told the rest of your friend group, he wasn’t sure, but he would keep the secret for you. Of course he would. He smiled softly, admiring you with his new revelation in mind. Even before he’d figured it out, you’d already been a princess to him anyway.

Peter studied the look on Kurt’s face and squinted. Something was going on. Something was going on and he would get to the bottom of it…

***

Over the weekend, your friend group had decided to go to the mall, but before you left, Kurt knocked on the door to your room.

“It’s open, come on in.” You told him.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room timidly. You were at your desk, reading what appeared to be a letter written on a piece of paper.

“What’s up?” You asked, not looking up from the letter when you asked it.

“You’re coming to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” You glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit. Sorry I’m late.” You chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into your dress drawer. “My mom wrote me a letter with her package.” You explained.

“How nice!” Kurt smiled and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the way it lit up his face. “Do you write each other letters back and forth?”

“When I have time to, yeah.” You nodded, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Well, shall we?”

Kurt nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and in a poof of smoke, suddenly, you were standing in the living room, where the others were all standing.

Peter had a weird look on his face and you weren’t sure why, but you knew he was up to no good. He always seemed to be…

The squad piled into the car, as usual, and arrived at the mall in under thirty minutes. Jubilee picked the tunes, which was always a good choice, so the ride there was pleasant and relatively uneventful.

You all walked inside and started the routine of shopping around in all of your usual stores. The prom was coming up, so you all spent some time in the dress place on the upper level of the store.

“What color dress do you think you’re going to get, (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “Maybe something pink. Or…blue?”

“I think blue would look great on you.” Jubilee grinned, flipping through the rack of blue dresses.

“I agree.” Jean smiled, her eyes flicking over towards Kurt, who was on the other side of the store with the boys.

“Hey now.” You warned, your cheeks warming at the thought. “What did I say about reading my mind?”

“I didn’t need to read your mind. You’re more obvious than you think you are.” She chuckled.

“What she said,” Ororo agreed, causing your cheeks to flush even hotter. “Why don’t we ask the boys which one you should wear?”

“That’s a great idea.” Jubilee agreed, despite your shaking head. “Hey boys!”

“Yes? What’s going on?” Kurt bamfed over beside you, looking at Jubilee curiously.

“Which dress should (Y/N) wear to prom?” Ororo held up one pink dress and one blue dress.

“The blue one.” Scott said knowingly, crossing his arms and smirking. Okay. So he and Jean had talked, then. “Definitely the blue one.”

“I agree.” Warren nodded.

“What do you think, Kurt?” Scott nudged the teleporter.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything. But I do like the blue one. It brings out your eyes.”

“T-thanks.” You blushed, giggling. None of you committed to dresses, so after looking around for a while the squad decided to hit the food court while looking over movie times.

“So…” Peter looked up at you and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. “When were you planning to spill the beans…your highness?”

You swore your blood ran cold. You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest and the color drained from your face. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair confidently. “When were you going to tell the rest of us your little royal secret?”

You froze, staring at him for a long time. “Maximoff,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes glowing faintly. “Choose your next few words very carefully.”

“Oh I have. (Y/N)’s the princess of Genovia.”

“Pfft. As if.” Scott scoffed, chuckling, but he stopped when he looked at the look on your face. “Oh shit, is he serious?”

“Who the fuck told you?!” You asked him, your voice raising the teeniest bit. “The only people who know are Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, so which one do I have to kill when we get home?”

“Neither. I snooped in Xavier’s office. Found your file.” Peter shrugged. “And of course, that begs the question: Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Listen…” You exhaled a long breath, looking to each of your friends faces for a moment before fixing your eyes on the table. “When people know, they treat me differently. I don’t think they mean to, but they do and it sucks. I like having friends and I love hanging out with you guys and I didn’t want to ruin that because of something as stupid as status.”

“You’ve got us.” Jean promised. “We’re not going anywhere. This doesn’t change anything. And…I already kind of knew. Not that you think about it often, but every once in a while…”

“I figured that might happen, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thanks for keeping it on the DL.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I knew too…” Kurt confessed, looking you in the eye.

You crinkled your eyebrows and then nodded, understanding. Of course he knew. You two had met before, after the show. You’d asked your mother if you could meet some of the performers, and she’d pulled some strings to make it happen. You distinctly remembered meeting Kurt. You remembered his smile and his adorable pointy ears.

“That’s right.” You smiled. “We met.”

“We did.” He agreed, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips and a faintly purple color creeping across his cheeks. “Although, I’ll admit, I didn’t realize it was you until…very recently. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“We sure aren’t.” You agreed, a chuckle escaping your lips.

And it was fine after that. It was normal. Much more normal than you’d expected it to be. Another week came and went. You finished your letter to your mom, Queen Clarisse, and when its response came back in the mail, you found it accompanied by a small picture she had saved all these years. As soon as you looked at it, a smile on your face, you knew you had to show Kurt.

So, you ran out to the courtyard, where you knew he was, and found him reading under the shade of a large tree in the front yard.

“Kurt!”

“What’s up?”

“My mom sent a few copies of this photo. Do you want one?” You asked, sitting next to him in the grass and handing him the photo. He looked it over, holding it very carefully in a large, three-fingered hand.

“This is us, ja?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, nodding. “A very long time ago.”

“We were so young…” He murmured, admiring the smile on his face as well as yours. He remembered you’d been nervous to meet him and at first, he thought it was because of the way he looked, but quickly learned it was because you’d been enamored by his performance. Absolutely blown away. You’d been so kind to him then, just as you were so kind to him now.

“We really were.”

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.” You told him. “So, what’cha reading?”

“Beauty and the Beast.” He told you. Ever since remembering that one of his best friends was a princess, he’d been on a bit of a fairytale kick.

“Mmm, that’s a good one.” You smiled and tilted your head, your eyes sparkling. “Read to me?”

“Of course.” He laid back against the tree again, holding the book open with his tail.

You got closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his lean chest. His arm wrapped around you and tugged you closer, and without even thinking about it twice, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before starting to read again.

Kurt decided then that there was no place in the world he’d rather be than under his favorite tree, a princess resting contently against his chest.

Part 2?

[nancypullen]

Thursday

What’s up, buttercup? There’s not much going on here on our patch.  I’ve been running around trying to soak up all of the spectacular fall color. This time of year really recharges my battery.  I mean, just LOOK. I snapped that while sitting at a stop sign just across from Books-A-Million.

And this - snapped while I was loading the Thanksgiving turkey into my car at Kroger.

I ran up to Providence yesterday to mail a box to the grandgirl  (and to restock some wrapping paper - 44 days until Christmas!!!) and found myself taking the long way around everywhere I went, just to enjoy the colors.   Today I was home all day.  I dragged out the winter clothes that had been put away last spring and started the big swap.  Packing away short sleeves and summer clothes and filling the closet with long sleeves, cardigans, and cozy stuff.  I launder the winter stuff before I hang it in the closet, so it’s a chore that eats up an afternoon.  Since machines do the bulk of the work I convinced myself that I could spend some time at my desk being crafty while waiting for the next buzz of the dryer.    Just before we left on our October trip the mister came home from a shopping trip and handed me three adorable little wooden houses and said, “I thought you’d like to paint these.”  He was right.

I dragged out my paints, turned on a new Dateline murder podcast, and I swear that I meant to paint a Christmas village... but...

apparently I’m not ready to move on.   Can we take a moment to recognize that while I can easily add a couple of pumpkins and a witch’s broom, I can not paint a straight line on a window to save my life.

Part of my problem is that I’m too eager to finish.  The other part of the problem is my assistant.  She steals brushes, walks back and forth across the desk, and even once she settles at the window she’s a distraction.  Here’s Phoebe sitting at the edge of my desk, watching the autumn leaves twirl through the air - until the UPS guy dropped a package on our porch.

Molly was snoozing at my feet the whole time.  She only alerts when she hears a treat bag.  Molly is my spirit animal.   Anyway,  I had a darn near perfect afternoon painting my little Halloween village (don’t judge me) and even though those houses are far from perfect I’ll just pretend that they’re Grandma Moses style primitives and be happy.  A storm blew through mid-afternoon and probably stripped a lot of the lovely autumn trees so I may have to take a little drive tomorrow and check.  I want to savor every last minute of this season.

Enjoy every beautiful moment while it lasts!  Matt called and said it was snowing in Minneapolis. I’m crossing my fingers that after this dazzling fall we’ll be lucky enough to see some snow this winter.  My closet is stocked and I’m ready for Jack Frost to nip! Bring on the sweatah weatha! Stay safe, say well, stay cozy. XOXO, Nancy

[marveldeliversusps]

Prompt: New Hobby

Thanks for the prompt and political advocacy, @queenoftherandomword​! Hope you like it!

Prompt: Looks like somone has a new hobby

Pairing: Stucky, shrunkyclunks, background Sam/Nat

Rating: M

Art by @inflomora-art​. I’m obsessed with this pic. 

Steve heard a knock and rushed to the door. It was around three PM and his postal worker, Bucky, would be dropping off the mail soon. On days when he wasn’t too busy, Bucky would stick around and chat with Steve for a few minutes. Those were the best days.

Mailman Bucky was beyond hot. He had a cleft chin with a bit of softness under it, wrinkles from smiling and sparkling grey eyes. He was so beautiful he even made the dumb postal worker hat look good.

When Steve pulled the door open, he found Natasha standing there expectantly. He tried to close the door but she put her foot inside the house. He set his shoulder against the door so she could push her way in.

“Nice to see you, Steve.”

Steve took a steadying breath in. He loved Natasha and looked forward to being around her. Since he’d retired from the superhero business and given the shield to Sam, time with Nat had been in short supply. However, she was perceptive and insatiably curious. If she was around when Bucky arrived, she’d sniff out Steve’s secret crush right away. Or find the numerous unopened boxes in his bedroom that he didn’t want to explain.

“Natasha,” he said.

“That’s all?”

Steve held tight onto the door. A moment of confusion or indecision would be just enough for her to elbow her way inside. This is why he needed more non-spy friends.

“Nice to see you, as always.”

Natasha rolled her eyes so dramatically her eyelashes fluttered. “What you mean to say is I’m sorry that I stood you and Sam up for our lunch date at Hot Lips pizza today, and that you two had to wait for forty-five minutes, and I can’t believe I didn’t respond to your text messages.”

Steve closed his eyes in embarrassment. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry, Nat.”

“It’s alright, Steve,” Natasha said, brushing non-existent lint from Steve’s shoulder. “I know you have other commitments. Maybe we could hang out now?”

Steve did want to spend time with her, just not for another hour when there was no risk of her meeting Bucky. Since getting together, Sam and Natasha were both happier, more fluid and less locked into decades-long patterns, but it certainly made Steve’s life more difficult. Their attempts at teasing him or caretaking were coordinated and ruthless. Loving, but ruthless.

“Now’s not a good time,” Steve said. “How about Friday you and Sam come over for a movie night?”

Natasha smiled sweetly, all her deadly angles covered by softness. She squeezed Steve’s hand gently, then dug her fingers into his wrist, making him yelp and stumble backward. As soon as Steve faltered, she charged inside and started looking around the living room. When Steve subtly positioned himself between her and the stairs to his bedroom, Natasha clocked his actions immediately. She slipped past his outstretched hands and hustled upstairs.

“Goddammit, Nat!”

Once she entered Steve’s bedroom, Natasha stopped abruptly and looked at all the unopened boxes lining the walls. “Huh.”

Steve nearly slammed into her back in his rush to beat her to the bedroom and had to grab onto the doorframe to stop himself. Natasha tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“What were you expecting?” Steve said.

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know. A hot man or woman. A sex dungeon. Porn. Not a million boxes from…” she picked one up and squinted at it. “REI? What the hell, Steve?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, not quite ready to tell the truth. The first package had been an actual order, a new pair of running shoes from an outdoor store he discovered. But then when Bucky had delivered them, REI (Recreation Equipment Inc) was apparently his favorite store, and it had given them something to chat about.

Steve had taken to buying gear from there once a week and planned his schedule to be home with the packages arrived, just so he could talk with Bucky. He’d even been working up the courage to suggest a hike together.

“I checked all the rooms downstairs,” Sam said out of nowhere.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. Of course, Sam and Natasha would be working together. They never went on ops alone anymore. Not since she was captured by AIM, and Sam leveled three blocks of downtown Mobile, Alabama to save her.

Steve should have never suggested Nat ask Sam out. Or introduced them. Or joined the Avengers.  

“Nice to see you,” Steve quipped.

Sam winked at him, the cheeky asshole. He knew Steve couldn’t stay mad at him long. “Not my fault,” Sam said, as he walked into the room. “You ditched us. And if you had just told Tasha what you were hiding--”

“I can have secrets,” Steve said petulantly.

Meanwhile, Natasha was walking around the room and shaking boxes. They all had the REI logo on the side: Sustainable Gear Built to Last. She retrieved a knife from her boot, ripped open a box and pulled out a 9.8mm Dry-Core climbing rope. It was bright yellow with red x’s on it, and Steve had picked it because he liked the design. “Is this for an outside sex dungeon?”

“Stop thinking everything is about sex!” Steve snapped. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Steve immediately felt bad. Before he could apologize to Natasha, she waived him off. Sam sat down on Steve’s bed and pulled out his own knife. He never used to have a million knives on him, probably Natasha’s influence.

“Do people know Captain America sneaks into people’s houses with knives?” Steve said.

Sam shrugged and carefully opened a package. “People don’t know a damn thing about me I don’t want them to know, because my girlfriend is a badass.”

A paranoid badass, Steve thought. But he had the self-preservation to keep that to himself.

Sam pulled out a Lavender Harness with yellow daisies stitched to the side. “Petzl Luna Harness,” he read off the side. “Steve, this is a woman’s harness.”

Steve crossed his arms, because he had aced his Women’s Studies class, thank you very much. “All the harnesses for women were pink and had flowers on them, and I thought that was very gender essentialist of them, so I bought it for myself in protest.”

“I’m sure they heard you loud and clear,” Sam said dryly.

They slowly unpacked all of Steve’s packages: another harness, two more ropes, a crash pad, carabiners, and several metal things Steve didn’t know the name of. After each item, Natasha looked at Steve expectantly, and he steadily denied that it was for a sex dungeon.

Next came a Marmot 1 person tent, that Steve would have to curl up in sideways to fit, a backpack, and a head lamp. He had more things he needed, but he wanted to spread the orders out.

“Why didn’t you open any of this stuff?” Sam said.

Exhausted with their questions, Steve flopped dramatically onto the floor, and he didn’t need to look up to know Sam and Natasha were doing synchronized eye rolls. “I don’t know how to use it yet!” Most of it he’d selected because he liked the colors or the philosophy of the companies. He had no idea if all the gear even all worked together. “It’s outdoor gear because my mailman likes to rock climb, and he’s hot, and I want to climb him like a tree.”

Natasha grinned triumphantly, and proclaimed, “So this is about sex!”

Steve didn’t respond, just slowly banged his head on the floor. Maybe if he blacked out they would leave him alone.

“Well, well,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that,” Steve snapped.  

“Looks like someone has a new hobby.”

Natasha leaned against Sam and giggled. It was so damn cute that Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to wrap them in Christmas paper or throw them outside.

He almost missed the knock at the door.

“Steve,” Bucky called in. “Your door was left open. Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Steve shot an annoyed look at Sam who grinned unrepentantly. “Barton’s watching the entrance.” Steve should've guessed that, too. He half expected them to turn into a throuple any day now.

Natasha ignored them again, moving lightning fast to charge downstairs.

“Steve,” Bucky called again. “Hi,” he said, presumably when he saw Natasha. “Just checking in. I have a package for Steve.”

“I’m sure you do,” Natasha said meaningfully as she took the box from Bucky.

Steve made a racket in his haste to prevent Natasha from saying anything more embarrassing and landed at the door framing breathing heavily with a wild look in his eyes. Natasha, naturally, looked calm and composed.

“You must be Bucky,” Natasha said, extending her dainty hand. “Steve can’t stop talking about you.”

Steve’s cheeks immediately flamed hot, and the only saving grace was that Bucky’s cheeks pinked up adorably, too.

“Oh.” Bucky didn't elaborate further even though Steve really, really wanted him to. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? An oh or an /oh/?

Before Steve could follow up, Sam came up behind him and clapped an arm on his shoulder.

“Captain America!” Bucky exclaimed when he saw Sam. Oh no, no no no no, Steve thought. “You’re my hero! I mean, I’m an adult so not like hero hero, but it’s. Whew. It’s an honor.”

Sam grinned that warm, gap toothed smile that made old ladies weak in the knees, and he shook Bucky’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you serve?”

Bucky nodded, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “Yeah, two tours and all that, and you know, the post office is the number one employer of vets, so I’m here doing this. Helps to have the arm.” He pointed at his black and gold prosthetic.  Thanks for promoting that program by the way.”

Steve didn’t pout, but his inner toddler was stamping his foot. He only got a few minutes to talk to Bucky each week, and Sam was hogging all his time.

Natasha had magicked some popcorn out of nowhere, there hadn’t been any in Steve’s cupboard, and was obnoxiously monching it and watching the three of them. Knowing her, she’d probably known all of this was going to happen and brought the popcorn along as a prop.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Bucky said to Sam, “but could I get a picture?”

Sam nodded, turning to Steve with a shit eating grin. “Steve, would you mind taking a pic of us?”

Steve took Bucky’s camera. He stepped on Sam’s foot while he arranged them for the photo, because he had called dibs on Bucky, and Sam already had Natasha. “You know . . . I’ve been retired for a while.” Because if Sam could play the Captain America card, so could he. Bucky had never brought it up, so perhaps he hadn’t recognized him.

Bucky smiled softly. “I know, Steve.”

Oh, well. That was a different thing entirely. Bucky had known who Steve was all along and had never made him feel uncomfortable about it. Steve smiled back at him and took the picture.

Once they were done, Natasha leaned toward Bucky. “Tell me, Bucky, how long have you and Steve been getting to know one another.”

Steve was 100% sure that was her code for sex dungeon activities, which, what in the hell did she and Sam get up to in their free time? Nevermind, he didn’t want to know.

They didn’t call Steve the greatest strategist of his time for nothing. He subtly scooted over, forcing Natasha to lean back.

“We’ve only recently become friends,” Steve said. The blood rushed to his cheeks again when he realized what he’d said. Bucky probably had to be friendly with everyone while he was working, that didn’t mean he and Steve were friends. “I mean, I think we are.”

The sides of Bucky’s eyes crinkled adorably as he grinned. “Yeah, we’re friends, Steve.” He paused and glanced at Sam and Natasha before settling back on Steve. “Actually,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, making his terrible round hat fall forward. He righted it quickly and said, “I was wondering if you’d like to go climbing this Saturday. I could show you the cool spots with not too many people, and--”

“Steve doesn’t know how to climb,” Natasha said around another mouthful of popcorn. “You should take me and Sam along to teach him. And Clint, too. Maybe Tony would want to come.”

By the grace of all that was good and holy, Sam had mercy and pulled Natasha away from the door whispering, “Stop cockblocking my best friend.”

Once Nat and Sam were out of earshot, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and grimaced. “I was looking for new hobbies, and when I ordered shoes you brought up climbing, and like an idiot I said I liked it too. because you are so handsome, and my brain turned into mush, and then I just didn’t want to stop talking to you.”

“I know,” Bucky said interrupting Steve’s rambling. His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “You once called a grigri a carabiner.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Exactly.” Bucky stepped closer, his expression turning mischievous. Steve could never, ever let him and Natasha become friends. “Wanna go on a date with me?” He was so close now, Steve could pick out the flecks of silver and black in his grey eyes.

Steve got lost staring until he realized Bucky had been waiting too long for a response. He didn’t seem to mind, his smile only getting wider.

“I really do want to learn to rock climb,” Steve blurted out to stop himself from saying something ridiculous like, please fuck me in your uniform.

Bucky tilted his chin back and laughed, mesmerizing Steve with the movement of his throat.

“How about we do both?” Bucky said, laughter dying down as he scooted closer.

Steve leaned down and said, “I’d like that,” against Bucky’s lips, the moment before they kissed. Distantly, he heard the sounds of Natasha and Sam cheering, but he blocked them out in favor of gripping Bucky’s hip and pulling their bodies flush against one another.

“The man has to work,” Sam called out. “Don’t get freaky and delay the mail.”

Bucky pulled back and patted Steve’s shoulder. “See you soon, Stevie.”

After he left, Steve collapsed on the couch next to Sam, heady with the experience, until a sudden realization left him cold.

“I forgot to get his number.”

Sam waved him off, and pointed at the kitchen where Nat was rifling through Steve’s cabinets. “Don’t worry. Tasha has it already.”

Steve groaned. Of course she did. And if by some chance she didn’t, Steve could always order another box from REI.

---

Learn more about Marvel Delivers USPS here! 

[ohdaim]

prompt - neighbors

You caught a glimpse of him while checking your mail. He was a tall, dark line topped with tawny hair, and he left a citrus musk in his wake. Barely conscious, you’d only stepped out to get the mail while your coffee steeped. He’d moved in overnight just a week prior, and he hadn’t made a sound.

Scientia was written on his letterbox next to yours. It was in neat script, simple black letters on white, unlined paper. You’d done yours weeks ago when you’d first moved in and hadn’t gotten around to ever updating it with better handwriting. Next to his, your surname in sparkly gel pen looked a touch silly. Although, compared to the faded and cockled name cards on everyone else’s boxes, you both stood out spectacularly as obvious new tenants.

You shuffled through the mail on your way back in. Among the bills and junk was an unexpected weight. You’d ordered a package, but this didn’t seem to be right. It was a magazine, covered in a thin layer of navy blue plastic, and after turning it over, you were able to read the title, which was, as far as you could tell, the only part not obscured by the plastic.

PENTHOUSE

This was most definitely not yours. You unloaded everything else onto your kitchen table and turned the magazine over in your hands again. There, on a lower corner, you read Ignis Scientia.

“Ah.”

You put it aside, looking at it while you sipped on your coffee. It wasn’t as if you were actively looking for a reason to meet the guy. Considering what this was, you were even less enthralled by the idea of approaching him. I got your spank mag in my letterbox. Just watch porn online like everyone else.

Pouring yourself a second mug, you decided you’d pull the band-aid off once he got back from what you assumed was his job. It was only a dirty magazine, after all. You were both adults here.

Because he never made a sound, and you often lost yourself in your art--oil paintings for wealthy clients--you weren’t able to catch him again. Not even a glimpse in the early morning like that initial sighting.

But the magazines continued to come. You frowned at the pile that had accumulated on your kitchen table in just a week. Hustler, Playboy, something called Erotic Disrobing. You opened one--it had thrown you with its title, Beaver Hunt, which you shouldn’t, in retrospect, have trusted whatsoever--to see a large, perfectly rounded ass with the exquisite main cover line: MILFS that LOVE to be MILKED.

Judging from the Insomnian Bear and Playgirl that had come mid-week, you had to give it to your new neighbor; he had a vast range of sexual interests. He also had a huge problem. No healthy person needed this much pornography.

By the end of the week, you left a note taped to his front door, telling him to knock on yours when he had the time because you had his ‘important mail’. When another week passed with not so much as a word from him and another slew of adult magazines, you began to wonder if you were being pranked by the mail carrier. So unprofessional how they couldn’t seem to differentiate between your letterbox and Ignis’ when your name cards couldn’t have looked more different.

Deep in your focus on the current commission, you were jarred out of your thoughts by a loud noise from next door. It was followed by music, which fluctuated in volume from high to low to high again within the span of a minute. You left your painting, wiping your hands on a cloth as you made for the stack of magazines in your kitchen.

Absolute pervert Ignis Scientia was home. At fucking last.

You blew wisps of your hair out of your face while you waited for him to answer his door. Paint was still on your hands, and you were wearing the least flattering but most comfortable clothes you owned. A vague thought ran through your mind that you should’ve changed before coming over. Except no, you were holding an armload of dirty magazines. There was no saving this from being an awkward first encounter.

The door opened to a bearded man not wearing a shirt. You were sure this couldn’t have been the same person you’d caught a peek of in the morning sun weeks before.

Still, you asked, “Ignis Scientia?”

The man laughed, a gruff, deep sound that shook his broad chest. He looked over his shoulder and called out, “Iggy, you’ve got company.”

Waving you in, he backed away and waited. You were hesitant. Visiting wasn’t in the plan, but you couldn’t deny that you were curious about what was going on. The music was much louder inside the apartment. You passed the man, meeting eyes with another who looked away almost immediately, one hand coming up to card through his blonde hair while the other turned the music down a notch.

“Selling magazines or something?” The larger, shirtless man asked, going around you to drop himself onto the sofa next to a third man who seemed to have eyes only for his phone.

“No.” You looked for a place to put them down, but the coffee table was covered with snack foods and open drinks. “These were accidentally put in my mailbox. They say Ignis Scientia on them?”

It wasn’t meant to be a question, but the longer you stood in the living room with these three men, none of whom appearing to be the elusive Ignis Scientia, you were beginning to worry all of this was a wild fever dream.

“Yes, allow strangers into my flat while Noct is here.” A fourth man stepped through an archway from what you could see was his kitchen, looking from you to the man who’d let you in. “Excellent shield work, Gladio.”

The man on the sofa laughed with a shrug. “Seemed harmless. Look at ‘em. They’re cute, delivering your mail for you.”

“I’m not--” You sighed and faced Ignis to introduce yourself. It took you a moment to speak, caught off guard by the frank intensity of his gaze. “I live next door. These keep coming to my letterbox. Please take them.”

Green eyes flicking down from your face to the topmost magazine, he frowned. “Are you certain those are mine?”

You glanced down. Peeking out through a clear bit in the black plastic cover was the word Boudoir, half covered by the shiny, golden elbow of what you were certain was a naked woman.

“Look.” You lifted the stack in your arms. “Your name is right there.”

Ignis blinked, stepping closer to read the address sticker. His face began to redden. “I don’t subscribe to this sort of…”

You hefted the weight in your arms. “If you would, please.”

Finally, he took them, the red in his face deepening by the second.

“I opened one,” you said. “Just, um, out of curiosity.”

He didn’t respond, looking toward his friends. “Gladio, is this your doing?”

As if they hadn’t been listening, two of the men sitting around looked your way. The largest one came to a stand and closed the distance to swipe the uppermost magazine. Delayed surprise crossed his face, then he laughed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Iggy.” He tore the plastic off and flipped through the pages. “So you’re into granny fetish stuff. Everybody’s got their thing.”

A scowl came to Ignis’ face. You didn’t like how good looking he actually was. You’d built up a very different image in your mind. For some reason, you’d thought he’d have a mustache. A creepy one. Instead, he looked like he’d stepped right out of a magazine himself. Albeit one where the models wore much more clothing.

“Gladio, this is worse than the last time I moved.” His grip on the bottom of the stack tightened. “Can’t you have these sent to your own place?”

The larger man closed the magazine, his amusement softening. “Iris checks my mail sometimes. I’d just rather not deal with that.”

You stepped back, inching toward the exit. You’d done your job. They seemed absorbed into their own thing. Whatever party this was, your curiosity was sated. And you really didn’t care whose magazines they were. Only that they wouldn’t be in your mailbox anymore.

Your slow steps were halted when Ignis looked at you again.

“I apologize,” he said. “You were the one who left that note, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “You didn’t come by.”

He held the magazines out, and his friend took them, carrying them over to the sofa.

“I thought you were mistaken.” His face was the picture of mortification, his inner eyebrows arched together over his glasses. He held his gloved hands in loose fists at his sides. “Had I known that was what you were receiving, I would’ve put a stop to it.”

You waved him off, thrown by the entire situation. You wanted to get back to your painting. You wanted to think about this in the relative quiet of your apartment.

“Just make sure you have them sent to your box from now on. I don’t think I can handle seeing another--” You made a vague motion with your hands. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you do. Again, my apologies.”

You left from there, beginning to grow embarrassed yourself. Just beyond the door, you heard him say with much less patience, “Thank you, now my neighbor thinks I’m a sexual deviant.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

The door closed, muting the conversation and following laughter. You waffled for a moment, listening as the volume of the music raised again. Well. That was… something.

Back in your own apartment, you found it difficult to return to work. Not because of the music from next door or the unburdening of the magazines.

You cleaned your paint brushes, done for the night, and felt warmth bloom on your face. Pervert or not, Ignis had the kind of face you dreamt of painting.

“Now who’s the weirdo,” you laughed to yourself.

[nightklok]

ASH... oh my lord those prompts are SO good... chickles for #60? and/or hammertooth for #98? whatever strikes your fancy~

100 Ways to Say I Love You Prompts[Open]

AAAA Thank you for requesting Kelly ;^; I really liked the two you picked out so i ended up doing both!! (And sorry if they became too long sdfsff)

60)-”Happy Birthday.”

Word Count:1278

For his own reasoning, Pickles chose to pretend his birthday didn’t exist. It was difficult given how famous he is and how much more fan mail and online exposure he’d get around that time that would constantly remind. It’d be easier to not collect his fan mail and avoid the internet but his family always seemed to find a way to pester him. Every single Goddamn year would be them trying to come over or pestering him with texts, phone calls, and dollar store birthday cards with half-assed written messages. 

Fortunately, this year seemed to be different. He was only thankful that conveniently their latest mission to fulfill the prophecy or whatever was in England In hindsight, he should’ve realized that it was actually part of Charles’ plan.

And since he never really looks at the schedule of what they needed to do, he didn’t realize that conveniently there was a day off between the tasks. And it so happened to fall right on his birthday.

It didn’t click into place once he found himself slowly waking up to Charles pulling him closer sleepily. His hands were always so gentle around him that it was almost easy to fall back asleep. Luckily, him being kissed was enough to get that jolt of energy to not fall as fast asleep. 

“Happy birthday, Pickles,” Charles said and Pickles tiredly laughed as he kissed him back.

“Aren’t I gettin' a little too old for birthdays?” He asked with a tired smile.

“That would mean you actually had celebrated your own birthdays. There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself a little,” Charles answered, "Besides, I kind of planned something for us to do together. Of course, the boys want to do something with you too but that will be in the evening." 

“What about my family? They're gonna ruin it if they find out-”

"They won't. It's all taken care of. It's nothing worth getting the press over. It's just gonna be between us and no one else." 

That was enough to get Pickles to be comfortable enough to not ask anything else. Charles wasn't pestering him to get up and start the day like he usually would. He seemed to be taking his time with him and it was actually nice for once. 

True to Charles' word, it was as quiet and enjoyable as Pickles preferred. He had shared plenty of birthday bashes before in the past to wake up incredibly hungover with a bunch of celebrities on his bed. As nice as those times were, he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would.

There was something nice about being able to spend a birthday not trapped in a room or with people he barely even knew. While the other guys may call him old, he just found it not as appealing as they must have. Charles could've simply given him a cake and he would've been content enough with it. However, because he was Charles, he always had tricks up his sleeve that he was never able to catch.

They spent most of the morning and afternoon traveling around England, visiting a few music museums, catching a private matinee performance of Book of Mormon, and even trying out pie at that traditional pie shop Charles always raved over. It was just as delicious as he had said. 

It was evening when they finally made it back to the tour bus after basically traveling around like tourists. The two hadn't had a day where they basically traveled around aimlessly like normal people and while their celebrity status gave them extra special treatment, it was more enjoyable than either of them had expected.

He saw that the boys had attempted to throw him a surprise party. Attempted being the keyword here. Obviously, the boys and Abigail had fought over who was doing what and it ended with a disarray of balloons, streamers, and food being scattered all over. There was no sign of his family so honestly, he could've been knighted by the Queen herself on the spot and he would've felt the same. 

“So we really tried but someone had to insist on being in charge.” Nathan glared at Skwisgaar.

“Not my faults your aesthetics are shit.” Skwisgaar pointed out.

“Should I remind that you wanted to throw in actual rattlesnakes to the punch bowl for the ‘aesthetics’?” Abigail asked. 

“I don’t get why we couldn’t get a metal birthday cake! Mercury is totally safe and metal too!” Murderface chimed in.

“Uh eithers ways, happy birthdays!” Toki said quickly as he hugged Pickles so tightly he almost saw white.

Pickles just laughed when Toki pulled away. How could he be mad at people who at least genuinely tried to throw him a birthday party? He couldn’t remember if his family ever tried to throw him one. It used to hurt him he didn’t remember and he’d try so desperately to remember as the last thing of hope he had that they definitely cared about him.

Looking at the scene now, he realized that it didn’t matter. He finally got the birthday party he truly wanted. A birthday party thrown by his actual family, “The gesture’s still sweet. I really appreciate it. Thanks, guys.” 

The cake was at least saved thanks to the fact it was kept in the fridge by an Abigail who definitely knew how to hold a sword. As they ate their cake, the presents were brought in by a klokateer. Six gifts in all. 

The gifts were exactly things he would like. A mixture of handmade from the boys' secret talents and store-bought that still carried the same amount of love as they were all things he would like. The final gift was almost easy to not notice. It was a small box wrapped in white packaging and even though it had no name tag, it was still easy to see from who it was from.

It took a few moments to unwrap the paper and open the box. Seeing what was inside almost made him drop the box before looking at Charles, "You-This is for real? You actually mean it?" 

Charles nodded as he took his hands, staring at him completely with a look that was full of the love he shared for him as well,"Of course I do, Pickles. You really mean a lot to me and I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize that. I know things are going to be hard soon and I'm not sure if we'll ever get another opportunity for me to propose to you so I'm taking this as a chance. I want this to be a promise that no matter what happens, I'll always be waiting for you and I hope you'll do the same for me."

Pickles almost choked back a sob as he kissed Charles before hugging him tightly, "Of course I fuckin' will. I'll wait a million years if I have to because I do wanna marry you. You're really the only one for me, Charlie."  

It seemed like everyone else was aware of that moment because he heard party poppers go off and a mixtures of 'Congratulations', 'About fucking time', and 'Great, let's eat more cake.' 

They eventually pulled away and Charles slipped the ring in his finger, which was a perfect fit. 

"We cans plans your weddings!" Toki said excitedly which sparked immediate discussion among the others.

"No, I don't think-" Charles said before he was interrupted by the boys beginning to ramble about a very metal (and dangerous) wedding planned. 

"We can tell them tomorrow. For now, I just wanna spend the rest of my birthday with my fiance." Pickles chuckled as he reached over to kiss him again.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled as he kissed him again, “Happy birthday.”

98) “Take a deep breath.” 

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack, blood mention Word count: 897

Transitioning was difficult. In one moment, Magnus was spending the past decade or so solely on revenge against the band that took everything away from him. The next moment, he’s now spending the rest of his life helping the band that took everything from him. Life had a funny way of throwing things at him that he least expected. Going from a vengeful person to someone who was not was something he never expected to happen. He figured he was too old to change but he supposed the world was nice enough to grant him some humanity to change.

The world was never kind to him. Magnus had made his peace with that and then continued to fight against it for all he had left in him. He wondered if giving in to help Dethklok meant giving up fighting. He was still fighting, for sure, but the difference was that his battles became for something much more than revenge. 

He sat in a meeting with the _Council, _which was full of the people who apparently had a role in the prophecy to help fight against Salacia. Dethklok, Charles, Edgar, Dick, Abigail, ghost Trindle summoned via seance...and him. He was one of the people a part of the prophecy and that was still hard to wrap his head around. He wasn’t told his role yet, it was not his time yet, and that’s what ended up terrifying him the most.

What if his role made him throw away everything he began working for after he was saved? What if he had to go back to his old ways and hurt Toki...fatally this time? No...no he wouldn’t fall down that path again, prophecy be damned. 

He couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the meeting. It could be blamed on the pain he _refused _to take morphine for or perhaps trying to figure out himself after realizing he wasn’t who he thought he was. Every meeting he sat through brought up the same uncomfortable feelings and this one was no different really. Just usually talking about the usual stuff; updates on the song Dethklok and Dick were working on, Edgar’s messages with whales, boring stuff. And just as usual, he had nothing to provide to the table.

“Magnus?” Charles asked and Magnus was brought out of his thoughts.

Eyes were on him now. Maybe Charles asked a question and he didn’t notice why he was being asked. God, he should’ve paid attention. Maybe this was part of the prophecy? His role was to answer a question incorrectly and be quickly beheaded as an example to those that dare betray Dethklok. Maybe he was really just kept alive for that example. They brought back a fucking psycho for a prophecy; morality is non-existent with them...Maybe...

“Magnus, you okay?” Toki was sitting next to him. He gently reached for one of his hands only for Magnus to quickly pull away. 

Magnus didn’t say anything and ran out of the room instead. He could hear Toki and the others call after him but he didn’t stop. He ran as far as his repairing body would allow him before stopping at a corner, gasping for air. Almost frantically his hand reached for his bandaged chest, feeling something wet just touch his fingertips. God, he fucked up. He always did.

His breathing didn’t stop from escalating. He could feel his heart pound rapidly to the point where it gave no moment for him to breathe. It was almost as similar as to when he stabbed himself. Knowing that he had to die but still fighting for air like he had some sort of worth. 

He could hear footsteps and almost a gasp before feeling himself being dragged to sit on the floor. The hands that held his shoulders were so familiar that he didn’t need to look up. Other footsteps were heard across the empty hall. Distinct voices he couldn’t quite make out. He couldn’t tell who was speaking at all but it was enough for him to want everything to stop.

He wants to tell everyone to fuck off and let him suffer in peace. Let the re-opened wounds open more so he could bleed out to death. That would be so much easier for everyone.

But there was only one distinct voice he could somehow hear. Toki. The only one speaking directly to him, speaking softly but enough for him to hear. It was still hard to hear his voice compared to the others and his own breathing but it was something to focus on.

 If Toki was willing to help over...whatever he’s going through, then how would he feel if Magnus ended up dying? Magnus was one of the few people Toki called out to when he was stuck in the hospital. Magnus became one of the many people Toki gave second chances to but definitely one of the first to actively try and make sure his second chance wouldn’t ever be a third.

He wouldn’t hurt Toki. 

He couldn’t hurt Toki. 

His self-imposed role would be to never hurt him for as long as he lived. As his breathing was struggling to stay even and he was struggling to awake, it was that promise and Toki’s voice that kept him staying awake.

“Takes a deeps breaths.” Toki’s voice was the only clear one he could hear.

And so he did. 

[spoonie-living]

What’s your coronavirus protocol?

Hey folks, I figure this might be a good discussion to have, to swap ideas, provide structure to those who are struggling to put their own protocol together, and validate folks who feel like they’re over- (or under-) reacting.

What do I mean by protocol? Basically the rules, guidelines, or procedures we follow to reduce our COVID-19 risk. 

Giving it a specific name like “protocol” can help with communication! You can tell a visitor “here’s our protocol” and it might feel easier and gain better cooperation than giving them a laundry list of requests. It can help you compartmentalize, too… there’s just a lot there.

Anyway, I’m going to list my family’s protocol below the Read More! Please note that it’s a very strict and specific one because we have a high-risk household and a family member with OCD. We also have a fair amount of privilege that allows us to take these steps without overwhelming our resources.

Protocols are NOT one size fits all; they’re based on your risk, resources, and various harm reduction variables. You aren’t doing anything wrong if you’re not doing things the same way as my family or someone else. Please don’t hate on yourself or other people for making their own informed choices.

Be sure to check our Coronavirus tag for the latest resources on this topic! Particularly relevant to this post:

Groceries, Food Safety, and More During The Coronavirus Pandemic

Dealing with OCD & Coronavirus

❤, Editor Diane

(ps, please practice good self care in reading this if you think it might trigger your anxiety, okay?)

Social distancing

We have a toddler in the house, so social distancing is not happening between family members; however, our highest risk adult is distancing a little more than usual from the other adults.

We don’t have visitors aside from our childcare providers. For a while this was the baby’s grandparents, and we essentially “germ bonded” with their household and went between the two homes freely. It was nice to be able to go visit them on Easter.

Now we’ve transitioned to my cousin, who nannies for us. Since she has housemates, we do not share households and she follows our “outing” protocol when she arrives. She also checks her temperature before coming over and we do the same. She’s amazingly aggressive about social distancing and disinfecting before using common spaces, bless her forever.

I’m totally separated from my other local partner, which sucks but is necessary; we can’t afford the risk.

Outings

We minimize these, but the two lower-risk adults take turns going out for groceries and other necessary errands. Our high-risk adult is going out for some necessary medical care, but we’re putting as much on hold as we can.

We use cloth masks for our outings and tie hair back if necessary. I wear coveralls for my own convenience, since clothes used on outings aren’t worn indoors and I am sick of coming up with multiple outfits in a day.

When we arrive home, we strip and shower (washing both hair and body). Personal effects brought out with us like phone, water bottle, and glasses are disinfected. We don’t touch anything in the house until we wash our hands.

Things we don’t disinfect, like purses/wallets, keys, and the doorknob, require a handwashing after touching, although if it’s been 3+ days without an outing I relax that, based on virus lifespan.

Stuff from outside

Although this is not a major vector, we have to be extra vigilant and currently are lucky enough to have the resources to do so.

We wash hands after handling mail and packages, and the contents of packages are either quarantined or opened so that whatever comes into the house is guaranteed not to have been handled when it was boxed up (so, a product in plastic is removed from the plastic before coming into the house).

When we quarantine things, we do it with a guideline of 1 day for paper and 3 days for everything else.

For groceries, we use disinfectant wipes on items that need to be refrigerated or frozen or are going to be used immediately. To save wipes and time, everything else is left in the bags for 3 days before being unpacked. When we’re done with the initial unpacking, we wipe down the surfaces the bags were placed on.

We do get meals delivered often, and that’s posed a bit of a difficulty for us logistically. Ideally, all food would be transferred out of the containers, hands washed, and sauce packets, cups, etc disinfected, but we’re still working on getting this into practice.

---

NOTE: You should know that we didn’t magically have this protocol overnight. There’s been discussion, changes, lots of mistake and misunderstandings… protocols are a process, so don’t get too upset with yourself if you’re struggling with whatever you’re trying to implement. There’s so much grief tied up in this, too, so like… cut yourself a break, okay?

[justsmilestuffhappens]

Day 1 (10th of February) - Secret admirer @buddietinesweek

Secrets, Lies, and What You Hide Inside.

Today was starting out good as Buck didn’t hit much traffic on his way to work. He managed to be in before pretty much everyone today. Confusion crossed his face as Buck looked at the card currently in his locker. He picked it up as if it was dangerous to touch. No one was around to see so he read it out loud.

“I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” Buck flipped it over and held it up to the light as if there was invisible ink. No one had signed it.

He stuffed it into his bag before going to start his shift with the card on his mind the rest of the day.

Who was it from and why didn’t they sign it?

-

Eddie came in a little late but not too badly as he saw the others upstairs with Cap already having breakfast. He waved before going to change. He had his shirt in his hand ready to trade it for the one in his locker when something fell out of it and onto his feet.

He bent down to grab the fuzzy thing. It was two teddy bear holding a shared heart between them.

Eddie huffed amused. The tag on one of the ears was left blank. He started at the different colored bears before stuffing them back in and tugging on his shirt with a smile.

He didn’t give it another thought until later when they were coming back. Was it a friendly gift or a joke? The only gay guy he knew at the station worked the other crew shifts and he barely knew him.

“Something on your mind Eddie?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. No. It’s nothing. Nice save on that debris.”

“Ha. Gotta keep you safe man. You’d do the same for me.” Buck bumped Eddie as he returned to looking out the window of the truck.

Could it be-? No.

-

Buck walked up to his door. He froze and pulled out his phone.

“Athena!”

“Buck, what’s wrong?!” He heard her shuffling around.

“Someone left a package at my front door! My mail goes to a P.O. box or our mail room drawers. I didn’t know what to do.” Buck’s voice was shaky.

Athena huffed. “You piss off anyone lately kid? No right?” She must have closed her car door because buck heard it.

“I don’t think so. But, I- what if it’s.”

“Buck it’s okay. He’s still in jail. Do you know what day it is?”

“Yeah. It’s the tenth, of, February.”

“Yeah Buck. You don’t think it’s a Valentine’s gift. It could still be something you don’t want just not as bad. I’m almost at your place.”

Buck stood still until he heard Athena coming.

“You good?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know why. I forgot what day it was.” Buck apologized.

“It’s fine Buck. We have every reason to be a little jumpy but I highly doubt it’s that bad.”

Athena pulled out a pocket knife and opened it with Buck beside her.

Balloons floated out as chocolates were inside a sealed package from a local gift shop.

“Oh thank God.” Buck breathed a sigh of relief.

“See. Nothing to worry about. You feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks Athena. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” 

“You’re never a waste of anything. Now go inside and get some sleep. If this secret admirer is any trouble you tell us alright?” Athena hugged Buck before going to leave.

Buck gathered the balloon strings and pulled it all inside.

They both had noticed there was no note or card on this one too. He sniffed the chocolate questionably before taking a bite, they had a crunchy inside to them.

Well at least it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he did jump to conclusions. But buck still had no idea of who it was. Whoever it was they had access to the firehouse and knew where he lived. He hoped they didn’t take rejection badly if he didn’t feel the same. If it wasn’t the person he wanted it too.

He thought about taking some to Eddie and Chris but how would he explain where he got it and why. Plus Eddie was just as tired after their late shift so he wasn’t going over just to wake him for the same reason he called Athena first.

Buck went up to bed and plopped down like a starfish.

“Who is it?” he wondered.

-

Eddie was checking his mailbox as he saw something on his windshield. He walked over to look at the paper..

“How the hell did I get a ticket? I didn’t-”

Eddie paused and looked around.

He grabbed the rose and opened the note tied to it.

“You’re always on my mind.”

No one was outside aside from Ms. Cooper and a jogger he barely waved to once in a while.

He took it inside with his mail.

“Aww Daddy, you got a rose for Valentine’s day?” Christopher looked up from his bowl.

“Umm. Yeah. I guess so. Let’s finish getting ready for school mijo.”

Eddie left it on the kitchen table along with the mail.

The last person to visit them was Buck. But he left before Eddie came inside and that wasn’t there. He wouldn’t turn around just for that, right?

Eddie was thinking. Whoever it was they knew his house and truck and snuck to deliver it. Then they got to his locker the other day too. It had to be someone he knew. Maybe it was-.

“Dad I’m ready!” Christopher said by the door.

-

Eddie walked into the firehouse with his secret weapon at the ready in his pocket.

He saw buck upstairs with the others. He got changed and headed up.

“Hey Buck. Can-”

“I need to talk to you.” Buck interrupted him.

“Yeah. Bunk room, now.” Eddie motioned over.

They didn’t see the others faces as they went to talk.

Buck closed the door to the empty room so they could have some privacy.

“I’ve been getting these gifts leading up to today. Did you-?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. I did.” Buck said nodding. “And. I wanted to give you this.”

Buck pulled out a chocolate kiss and handed it over.

“I have something for you too.” Eddie smiled as he pulled out a conversation heart that read ‘I ♡ You’.

“Ha. We’re nerds.” Buck chuckled. 

“Wrong candy Buck.” Eddie laughed with him at that.

“I can’t believe you feel the same way. I- I’m really glad you sent those too me even if it was scary that one time.” Buck said pulling Eddie into a hug.

“Wait. What? ” Eddie asked.

“The box. I thought it was a bomb but you sent me those chocolates and balloons. I was so dumb I called Athena because I was scared.” Buck said.

“You have every right to be scared Buck. I’m glad you’re ok but I didn’t send that.” Eddie tilted his head.

“What are you talking about. You just said you were getting me these things leading up to Valentine’s today Eddie.” Buck said.

“No. I was getting gifts sent to me and I thought it was you that sent them to me. I got bears and a rose.” Eddie said.

“But. I didn’t get you anything. I couldn’t risk doing that. So you really didn’t get me anything? But, you do like me too though right? As more than a friend?” Buck looked like he was gonna throw up.

“Yes. God buck. I think I love you. I just couldn’t risk, us, this.” Eddie said.

“But if you didn’t give me gifts and I didn’t give you gifts then who did?” Buck asked as they heard movement outside.

“Ah ha. Caught you red handed!” Athena said.

“What?” “I’m innocent” “Thena?” 

Buck and Eddie moved to open the door.

“Aww man they were finally talking.” “The waiting for them to realize it's over we're free.” “I didn’t do anything” Hen, Chimney, and Bobby said as Athena looked at them.

“What’s going on?” Buck asked with Eddie in the doorway.

“Just these three meddlin’ is all. I bet Maddie was in on this too.” Athena said as Buck asked her to explain.

“The chocolates are from Maddie’s favorite place which I was reminded of this morning when I saw her. Chimney got her strawberries there. The bears Harry thought Bobby got me were in your locker weren’t they Eddie?” Athena asked.

“She’s really good.” Eddie said.

“You can say that again.” Buck nodded.

“I’m glad you’re not cheating but pretending to be Buck for Eddie. Bobby really? What’s all this matchmaker fever about? They’re grown men. They can talk and so can y'all,“ Athena said.

“You don’t have to work with them though.” “We can see it, they’re just blind.” Chimney and Hen said waving their hands up in exasperation.

“Wait. You two tried setting them up too?” Bobby said taking in what Athena said.

“Thank you.” Buck said silencing everyone. “If you’ll excuse me and my boyfriend to be we’ll be laughing at this actually working for us. Bye. Thanks for explaining things Athena.” Buck grabbed Eddie’s hand and and pulled him over to the couch.

“You’re lucky they didn’t get angry at you or this didn’t ruin their friendship. And you mister owe me a bear and dinner tonight. Happy Valentine’s.” Athena said pointedly before heading out.

“So, umm. Who wins that bet if all of us are disqualified for interfering now?” Chimney asked.

“Wouldn’t it be Thena?” Hen said as they saw her smirking as she turned to say good bye.

She totally knew it. And she was getting dinner to top off her winnings tonight.

-

“So Chimney and Hen got me stuff to make me think it was you. I can share the chocolate with you and Christopher now.” Buck said as they sat together.

“And i guess Bobby and maybe Maddie left me the bears and rose to think it was from you. I’m just glad you didn’t turn me down.” Eddie said smiling at buck.

“Pft. Like anyone would wanna turn you down. I had my own doubts to worry about.” Buck said.

“I’ll be happy to get rid of those if you’ll let me.” Eddie said grabbing Bucks hand.

“Yeah? I- think I’d like that.” Buck laughed.

Maybe they did owe the others for helping them in their round about odd ways.

[anchorsandadderall]

Dolly

Sterek Week, Day 7: Halloween

Words: 2,629

Summary: Nothing in the Stilinski-Hale house is ever normal, of course. Not even birthday gifts for their son Herald.

Genre: Horror (sort of), Humor

If you do not yet know the tale of Herald, please go and view/read this absolute gem of the fandom here. Herald and his origin story belong to @spaggel and @grimm-times

Aside from the Sheriff, Cora was probably the one most unaffected when she met Herald. Derek and Stiles introduced them via FaceTime, because that tends to be the easiest way to introduce new, woefully unsuspecting people to him. They have the opportunity to hang up and swear the call dropped if it’s too much all at once. The amount of people who suddenly ‘lost signal’ when FaceTiming It for the first time is staggering. Scott swore he thought their kid was super adorable, he just lost signal while in a tunnel, despite the fact that he was calling them from a Burger King. 

It’s also helpful that electronics seem to malfunction around It a lot, and while sometimes the flickering screen has the same effect as the reveal of the girl in The Ring, a lot of times the static helps to… soften things. While sitting on the couch with Derek and It, Stiles bangs the side of his phone to try and sort out the heavy lines of distortion running up from the bottom of the screen, making everything wobble as it passes. That has to actually be making things look worse, surely. 

“Okay, now please remember that Herald is like… eight years old now, so he understands stuff that people are saying.”

Derek clears his throat. “He’s five.”

Stiles pauses and counts in his head. Time seems to go a lot slower when one is awaiting possible eminent death in ones own home all the time. “Five. But he can still understand you.”

“Sti- Stiles.” Cora’s voice jumps and doubles back as the screen wobbles. “The only danger here is you making me motion sick. Lemme see my nephew.”

Stiles sighs and tilts his phone to bring It into view. “Herald. This is your Aunt Cora.”

Herald takes the phone, grasping it in his knobby little fingers and stares at Cora’s flickering image. His eyes unfocus and the pupils drift apart slightly. Stiles braces himself for the hang-up but Cora just laughs.

“Hey, he’s got Derek’s eyebrows!”

***

The package arrives four weeks later, and it’s covered in red ink stamps and writing on the shipping label. It’s in Spanish, written in a dying ballpoint pen. But the mailman didn’t hang around to say there was extra shipping due or anything. Plus it’s from Cora, so it has to be fine. Stiles just cuts the box open and sifts through the balled-up newspapers.

And finds the doll.

The doll is some sort of cloth nightmare creation from Cora’s neck of the woods in South America. It’s rail-thin, the body wrapped in some kind of lacy doily to make a dress. The arms are too long, and the eyes are too big, bugging out of her head. For some reason the eyes are sewn onto black felt circles. Stiles thinks it’s supposed to mimic eyeliner, but the eyes are too high on the head and the circles form large, dark crescents under her eyes. 

Stiles shudders and stuffs her back into the newspapers so it hides those bulging eyes, grabbing the piece of folded cardstock that’s been rifled around with the papers. Cora’s messy scrawl is inside, written in red pen.

‘1 missed birthday present down. More to come. Love, Aunt Cora’

“Hey kiddo,” Stiles says automatically as he hears the front door open as Derek comes home from picking It up from kindergarten. He shoves the box aside so he can mail the hideous thing back to Cora and tell her to buy It a less creepy doll off Amazon if this is what they all look like where she shops. “How was school?”

“He didn’t bite anyone today,” Derek says, releasing It’s hand so he can wander freely around the kitchen while Derek hangs up his backpack. “His teacher is thrilled.”

“Me too, because that means he gets to stay another week.” Stiles presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Our kid might learn those pesky social graces yet.”

“Can I see her?”

Stiles looks over at where It has perched himself at the edge of the table, staring up at the box without blinking. “What?”

Herald points up at the box.

“What are you talking about, buddy?” Derek walks over to the box and sifts the paper around, pulling the doll free. When he flips her over and the wiry black hair falls away to reveal the huge eyes, he startles and drops the doll… right into Herald’s waiting arms. 

“Your uh… sister decided to send that for Herald,” Stiles says, internally screaming. Herald has the doll, and looks quite pleased about it. Stiles is probably a terrible person if he gets rid of it now.

“Oh.” Derek looks down at it, a shudder running up his spine. “…Why?”

“How the hell should I know? She always had a weird sense of humor.” Stiles sighs. Time to foster good habits and all that parental stuff. “Let’s call Aunt Cora tonight and say thank you, okay?”

It turns his head slightly, not looking at anyone. Turning his ear towards the doll, maybe? Then he nods his head.

“She packed her too close to the strawberries. She didn’t like that.”

“Right.” It’s not the weirdest thing Herald has ever said. It’s not even the weirdest thing thing week. “Well, we don’t give people feedback when we’re thanking them for a present. So don’t say that to Aunt Cora.”

“Yes,” It says, and then departs with the doll. 

When Stiles is dumping out the newspapers to fold the box down, he finds a bag of candies tucked in the bottom of the box. There’s a smiling piece of red, round candy on the front of the bag, holding a strawberry.

***

The doll is called Amaia. Stiles takes note that It always just says that her name is Amaia, not that he named her. He likes to talk to her, which, again, isn’t all that weird. It talks to a lot of inanimate objects. And then he forgets to talk to his very animate parents for long periods of time. 

So he loves the doll and calls her his new friend and everything is great. Stiles can overlook the creepy factor since it makes Herald so happy. Hell, his kid has a creepy factor, who is he to hold it against a doll? But one does have to draw the line somewhere, and for Stiles, that’s at the front door. 

“Maybe you can take Amaia for the next show and tell day, okay?” Stiles offers after having successfully distracted It with Pop Tarts long enough to pluck the doll off the table. 

“She doesn’t like my teacher,” It says, watching the doll. “I want to show her that she’s nice.”

Ooookay, the doll is never going to show and tell. Ever. “Well, when you come home you can tell her all kinds of nice things about your teacher.”

It gives this a long moment of consideration. “Yes,” he finally agrees, and goes back to carefully biting his Pop Tart into the shape of an anatomically-correct heart. Stiles gives Derek a ‘dodged a bullet’ look of relief. Once Derek leaves to take It to school, Stiles stows the doll on top of the fridge so he doesn’t have to look at her creepy bug eyes all day. 

Stiles is working at the kitchen table at his laptop, tapping his fingers on the edge. He’s half focused on his screen, but something sort of... itches in the back of his head, but on the inside. A twitchy, uneasy feeling. 

“Derek, quit watching me,” he says, not taking his eyes off the screen. 

No answer. The prickling doesn’t go away.

Stiles sighs and rubs his eyes, breaking the spell of concentration with the screen (which wasn’t exactly helping him make progress). He turns to the kitchen doorway to tell Derek to stop being a creeper and make sandwiches or something.

The doorway is empty. The kitchen is empty. 

Stiles rubs the back of his neck gingerly as he looks around and confirms that... he’s definitely alone. The kitchen is quiet, save the slight hum of his laptop and the ticking of the clock that’s hanging over the stove. 

It’s cold. Well, Stiles thinks it’s cold, but there’s also the very real possibility that he’s just bored, and neither of those problems will be solved by him just sitting here. He gets up, trying to rub a little warmth into his arms, and heads out of the kitchen. A quick walk around the house, maybe asking Derek if he was hanging around the kitchen recently, grabbing a jacket if he needs to... then he can get back to work. 

When Stiles opens the door to the home office where Derek is working, he’s trying to pull a second sweatshirt over his first one. “Hey Derek. Were you in the kitchen?”

“Not recently, wh...” Derek turns to the door and fades out in the middle, eyebrows coming together as he looks Stiles up and down. “Are you okay?”

“It’s kinda chilly downstairs, don’t you think?”

“I-” Derek pauses as his computer begins humming louder, like it’s running harder. The screen dims. The lamp in the office dims, casting a brown tint on the walls. The bulb sputters, slight pops of yellow as it tries to fight back to full brightness.

Then it passes. The light comes back on fully, the cheerful orange light from the bulb radiating comfortably. The computer quiets back down. Derek immediately saves his work, just in case. 

“That was... weird. Uh, I haven’t been downstairs since I got home,” he says. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, for lack of anything better to say. He can’t very well insist that Derek had to be downstairs because it’s way creepier if he wasn’t. “Right. Well. I’m gonna go... get back to work.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Derek asks, leaning over his desk like he’s tryin to get a closer look at Stiles, but he’s already making a beeline for the staircase.

The kitchen light is off when Stiles gets back downstairs. So is his laptop. Everything is silent except the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Stiles yanks his chair out, wondering how the hell he was gone long enough for his computer to go into sleep mode. Movement on the chair makes him glance down before he tries to sit. 

Amaia is on his chair. The force of him pulling it out has tipped her onto her side, one long arm falling past the edge of the chair. Bulging eyes staring at him. 

Stiles grabs the doll and shoves her into the freezer, slamming it shut. 

“Don’t make me call a priest,” he warns through the closed door. “You better not have screwed up my computer.”

***

It’s hard to be phased by much of anything after a life in Beacon Hills and now five years of fatherhood to the creepy little gremlin that is their son. Stiles and Derek just kind of take the first week in stride. Weird stuff happens when It is away at school. It usually stops when he comes home and Stiles returns custody of the doll to him. At worst, Stiles nicks his fingers on every knife in the utensil drawer while trying to find a wooden spoon. Messy, but not too bad when one’s mate has pain-removing powers.

Then It stays with his grandpa for the weekend. Stiles makes him leave the doll again, because hell if he’s sending that thing to his dad’s house. 

Amaia does not appear to like that. 

Stiles taps his fingers on his knees while the phone rings in his ear.

“Stiles.” Cora’s voice on the other end is groggy but suspicious. “Wha’s wrong? It’s... 5 in the morning.”

“1 in the morning for us. Cora, where did you get that doll you sent to Herald?” Stiles asks, tapping his fingers faster. 

“Is that Derek growling I’m hearing?” she asks. Stiles can hear rustling on the other end of the line as Cora sits up. The phone buzzes in his ear as the connection weakens. 

“Yeah, that’s Derek. There’s a little girl standing at the foot of our bed.” Stiles rubs Derek’s shoulder to try and keep him from launching himself at whatever is standing there and staring at them. “Or, I think there is. She’s suspiciously featureless in the shadows.”

“What the hell?” Cora sounds fully awake now, and Stiles will at least have the petty satisfaction of dragging her up at a horrible hour on a Saturday after all fo this bullshit.

“Yeah. The light has been unplugged somehow and there’s a little girl standing at the foot of our bed in the dark. Staring at us,” Stiles repeats. He can’t see her eyes, but ohh, it’s easy to feel they’re being stared down. “Presumably here to kill us because Herald is away.”

“What the fuck kind of doll did you send our son?” Derek growls, not taking his eyes off the still figure facing them. 

“I mean... it was just a doll,” Cora protests. “Lots of the women around here sew and make kids’ toys.”

“Are they all in a cult or something?” Stiles hisses, trying to toe the line of belligerence. He’s not sure if it’s possible to piss this thing off and he doesn’t really want to find out either. Not when he’s only wearing boxers and he’s carelessly moved his bat to the closet after It tried to use it to beat a hole into the wall. (He wanted to go into the crawl space. Stiles absolutely did not ask why.) 

“No. They’re just a bunch of old grandmas who make clothes and toys,” Cora huffs. “I know what a cult looks like.” 

“Then why is there a demon attached to the doll they made?” Stiles asks. Because they still have no explanation for what’s at the foot of their bed.

“I don’t know! I showed one of them a picture of Herald and said I wanted something he would like. That’s it, I swear.” 

“And... then what?” 

“She crossed herself. Which people do a lot when I show them a photo of Herald.” Cora sighs and Stiles can hear her tapping her nails on some surface as she thinks. “And then she sold me the doll. Simple as that.” 

“Great. I think your grandma friend was some kind of vigilante trying to rid the world of our creepy kid.” Stiles holds the phone away from his ear as the static hisses and distorts the line. 

The shadow at the foot of the bed flickers and appears on Stiles’ side of the bed. Derek lunges for her and the shadow makes a sound like static on a dead television channel that makes Stiles’ ears hurt. 

“Oh, thanks Cora! Send me the replacement doll so I can burn this one,” Stiles says loudly into the phone. 

The shadow shrieks angrily and vanishes just in time for Derek to pass through her and land on the floor. 

“Stiles?” Cora’s voice is faint as Stiles drops back against his pillows and sighs in relief. “Stiles, what doll? What are you talking about?”

“Where did she go?” Derek snarls, eyes blazing blue in the dark room, whipping his head around. 

Stiles groans and rubs his face. “Bye, Cora,” he says, hanging up the phone. “Come back to bed, babe.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do about that thing?” Derek growls, climbing back into bed. 

Stiles pulls the blanket up to his shoulders, hunkering down under it. He’s still getting his goddamn child-free night of sleep, and no haunted doll is going to stop him. “We order another creepy-ass doll from Amazon and use it to keep her in line until she gets too strong and we have to exorcise her. Obviously.”

[badjonesrising]

Mail Art: Sorting & Organizing Mail Trades & Paper Swaps

Sunday, I finally took time to go through every letter, paper swap and trade, and postcard I had stacked on my table. I only signed up for a few swaps with good friends, pen pals I have been friends with for years. However, I did accept some new swaps for paper in return for some BJR art an classic goodies. I realized about a month or so ago, I didn't have ANY sort of tissue paper, book pages, or even scrapbooking paper. I am glad to report that I got some very generous mail packages but I have been so busy working on site stuff, and having a sprained wrist, I just kept putting it off. My hand was feeling better, and my To Do List was long!

I started by sorting everything by type of paper. I found a box of really old scrapbooking paper in the closet (some papers were over 7 years old!) and wanted to sort and send them to friends. The incoming stuff was mostly collage materials so it was easy. I made a stack for thin, vintage-type papers like book pages and basically anything with text on it. I made another stack with decent quality paper, handmade paper, and things I could use in handmade cards and altered tags. Of course, there’s a big pile of paint scraps and gelli prints from pen pals! I also made a nice stack for flyers, labels, stickers, and "glossy" magazine-type stuff. I don't use a lot of glossy surfaces in my work anymore, especially collage work, but I wanted to keep them for atcs or postcards. I also made a big pile of journal cards for memory keeping or project life, and other "pretty" or mass produced type stuff. I am currently doing a digital purge and on an organizing mission of my photos from the last four years or so…so I have a big collection of digital downloads, freebies, and printables that I will add to this pile for scrabooking purposes. I save all my envelopes for mini albums, and for the stamps— but the “packaging” stuff, like bubble wra and cardboard all gets recycled! You know me!

I am so glad to have some tissue paper on hand now! I also found this cute little note from my friend Darlene and it has to be at least 3 or 4 years old! I also dug through and found some glassine and kraft envelopes I lost forever ago. It's good to get organized because now I can sort through and find these papers. If I can't see materials, or if they aren't within reach, I won't use them. I like to keep my mail art and swaps in their designated evenlopes for a little while so I can remember who sent me what, but once that is burned into my brain, I can sort and stack. Feelin' good- hell, I spent half of yesterday finishing up swaps and mail so I can finally take a breath! I have given up on USPS, but I still have a UPS across the street and things have been working just fine there. I only ship about once a week- so I spent all of this day packing orders and finalizing photos for my shop. I love being productive. I love getting shit done. YES! Okay, soup and Chicago P.D. here I come…