#this is like getting to play skyrim for the first time again

[nexus-nebulae]

the aftermath of having 2 terabytes of storage

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[dredshirtroberts]

once more my father's fanatical adherence to Apple products as the pinnacle of technology for the past *checks wrist where watch might lay, but you see that it is bare* 35 odd years has come to dash my hopes against the rocky shorelines of my dreams again.

in related news, guess who got really excited about maybe doing myself a nice thing for once and spending money on a frivolity (skyrim - shut up i know i'm basic i get it) and then found out that i can't play it on my computer cause they didn't cross platform to apple OS :(

[beestalesofarcadia]

Could I request some reactions from Draal, Blinky and Aargh on a teen human(gender neutral reader pls!) Who has the same personality as Marcy from Amphibia, showing them a bunch of video games they love please? Especially some being more gruesome then others, would love to read it! :D

Heck yeah dude!! I absolutely love Marcy <3 BTW this started off simple but I went off the rails completely lmao so sorry about that TwT

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You are a close friend of Jim and Toby, having grown up with them on the same block. You became a trio: inseparable. You were with Jim as he picked up the amulet, you were running beside Toby as Bular hunted you three down, and you were beside the two as you graced the grounds of Trollmarket. Your mind is completely blown by it. You were already off running around: taking notes in your math notebook of what you saw, the types of trolls that were around, facts Blinky spewed out, and even that big blue grumpy one that threatened Jim in front of you!

While your intellect proves to be insightful on the battlefield, your clumsiness also poses a potential threat to yourself and others. Regardless, you’re a valued member of the Trollhunters and have garnered respect from most of Trollmarket (and even Vendel himself). You have helped countless times, and even put your life on the line for others. Now… here are the thoughts of some specific residents of Trollmarket! >:]

Draal

Before the duel with Jim, your optimism confuses him, if not annoys him. He legit just threatened to kill your best friend, and all you can do is stare at him with stars in your eyes. Great to have admirers, he supposes. Even if they are some imposter, wannabe Trollhunter’s ally. As you walk away with the group, he can’t help but guffaw as you trip over your feet. If these were the Trollhunter’s allies- the supposed saviors of man and trollkind- then the world truly was doomed.

After getting humbled by Jim, his attitude begins to shift more. Yes, there are moments of annoyance (especially when you ask to measure his horns or teeth and ramble about things he doesn’t understand), but overall you’re strange, and it’s amusing. You are easily impressed by nearby anything he does, and that’s fine. It’ll start to fuel his ego again.

You start to hang around Jim’s more often than not and Draal enjoys having you around. The majority of the time you’re taking notes, and when you’re not, you’re geeking out about some vampire books and other fixations. He tells you he’s met a few, and when you ask if they’re anything like in the shows you watch (attractive, seductive), he hits you with a hard “no” and laughs at your disappointment. Human’s obsession with vampires was so strange.

Draal teases you a lot, and even if it’s mean-spirited you just go along with it the majority of the time. If you do mention something, he’ll back down from it. But it doesn’t stop him from occasionally knocking that new novel you got from the library out of your hand.

Video games are rather confusing to him. Not that he hates them of course! But he doesn’t quite enjoy them as much as Arrrgh does. Of course, he’ll play the more violent games you have, but he doesn’t care for the shooters. He’d much rather tear them apart with his bare hands, thank you very much. There was one time when you had to beg Draal to not destroy your TV the first time you introduced him to Skyrim.

Table-top games on the other hand? Absolutely! He loves playing DnD with you. He likes having more interaction and freedom with the choices he makes when compared to video games where you have to follow the plot. Blinky or Toby often narrates when you have game nights with the group. Out of everyone, you and Draal are the most competitive. You two both get into character and often come up with strategies. Sometimes a little too much for everyone’s liking. The table often gets crushed, and there have been times when you both were at each other’s throats. 

You’re now his little sibling. No questions asked. You jokingly mention something along the lines of a “found-family” trope, and after a brief explanation of it, he just subtly agrees with that being your relationship with him. Prepare for a protective big brother, even if you know your way around trouble. 

Arrrgh

You both are automatically besties. That’s it, I don’t make the rules. There’s no doubt about it that you’re all over him when you first get to meet Arrrgh. While Jim is stressed about trolls in his home and Toby is freaking out, you’re bombarding the giant, green ball of moss with millions of questions. He thinks it's adorable and while slightly overwhelmed, he doesn’t mind responding to them. His answers are short and vague though, and Blinky ends up intervening and answers with more detail. 

It honestly doesn’t take a lot for him to grow attached to you. He finds your energy very endearing, and you manage to light up the room with it even during the most hopeless times. You surprisingly don’t get as overwhelmed compared to everyone else in the group, though it doesn’t stop Arrrgh from checking up on you. You might wanna write down how much of a good comfort buddy he is.

Speaking of which! If you are down, he won’t hesitate to do what he can to comfort you. If you need to vent, he is all ears. He isn’t much of a talker, but by God, he is a good listener. His advice is short and simple: usually straight to the point. Regardless, it doesn’t undermine how sweet and thoughtful his words are. Most of the time you talk about how overwhelming your parents are, and often he assures you that only wants the best for you but doesn’t know how to show it. A part of you thinks otherwise, but you know that they do mean well. 

When you visit Toby’s house, the three of you have movie nights. A pillow fort is made in Toby’s room and you both bring all the movies you can. There’s finally the night when you manage to convince the two (mainly Toby) to binge-watch Twilight. You get so giddy it was hard not to laugh at your reaction for Arrrgh. He doesn’t understand the plot, but he’s interested in it. As much as Toby wanted to hate it, he couldn’t help but rant about Bella’s decisions with you and listening how she could’ve bettered herself. Arrrgh just nods, having been seated between the two of you and not able to escape the conversation. 

This troll is pretty protective of you. You’re very capable of yourself, there’s no doubt about it. But again, your clumsiness is what gets you into trouble the majority of the time. There have been instances where you indirectly killed a goblin leader. Taking them head-on during their frenzied state is near impossible, but for Arrrgh, he’s more than willing to take it as a means of defending you. Thankfully, you are pretty witty, so you do find ways to drive them away from you.

As seen in the show, Arrrgh does love video games! You have a considerable amount of video games, ranging from violent ones like Mortal Combat to non-violent ones like Animal Crossing (one of Arrrgh’s favs). Knowing his past, you tend to stray away from the more mature games and settle for the “kiddie” stuff. Arrrgh loves Cooking Mama and Little Friends. Just remind him to be gentle with your switch- sometimes he forgets his strength.

Blinky:

Blinky would not hesitate to admit it, but it’s nice having someone who shares the same enthusiasm as he does! Especially when it comes to learning. While the troll cares deeply for Jim, he can admit that when it comes to their lessons, his less than enthusiastic attitude towards it can be drab. If not, a bit discouraging. With you, however, it’s a complete 180. He always sees you taking notes, commenting on their cultures with genuine intellect, and your analysis is always endearing to listen to. Although you still have much to learn, you are on the right track.

Besides that, you’re always a delight to be around with! He can’t help but admire your charming nature, even if at times you are ditzy. He knows you always mean well, so he can’t hold it against you. He’s most definitely “Marcy-proofed” his library; AKA, he’s put his more “delicate” items in safer places, and the potentially dangerous ones are hidden away.

While Blinky teaches you all the ropes of troll culture, you return the favor by explaining human culture to him. It’s honestly a mix of easy, and difficult. It’s not that Blinky’s dumb (no, far from that actually) or that you’re a bad teacher, it’s just the fact that he’s misinterpreted human customs and inventions for so many years. 

When he turns human, you are most definitely the one teaching him how to drive… which was, all in all, a terrible idea. You knew how to drive. You had just gotten your permit for Pete’s sake! Blinky on the other hand? He’s a wild rider. You lost track of how many times you both almost crashed into a divider just because he assumed you were able to drive on it, or how many times you prayed he wouldn’t take the yellow light. When he finally stopped driving, you insisted you could both walk home.

Video games aren't his forte. The concept of them is interesting, especially with how much they are able to fit into a small disk! But alas, they are but treats to the normal troll. Although it doesn't stop him from being interested in what you have to show. The gruesome games intrigue him. Do humans really like violence that much? It doesn't really shock him that much. They haven't changed much even after centuries, have they?

Like Arrrgh, he’s a good listener. His advice is genuine too, especially when you run away to Trollmarket when things aren’t going well at home. You’ve come there an alarming amount of times to a point the conditions of your home were concerning him. Especially when you break in front of him, wailing about the pressures and stress you feel from your parents and the potential of moving out of Arcadia. At home, you feel unloved if you don’t achieve your parents' goals. They have given you so much, yet you feel you give so little in return. You love your parents, but being with them is draining.

Although Troll's culture is different when it comes to humans, he knows the burdens of expectations are all the same. That pressure of knowing that your best isn’t enough… he’s felt that. He assures you that you are doing your best, more than others could. He assures you that your tears are not a sign of weakness, but a glimpse of your strength. He assures you that you are enough. It surprises him when you suddenly hug him, though it doesn’t stop him from embracing you as well.

[littlemissf]

CLARIFICATION

I feel like I need to edit this clarification in.

This is a port. I DID NOT make this 3D Model, nor it’s textures. I PORTED it. And I made it for myself. I do not intend to publish this. My mods get barely downloaded nor used by anyone for their own mods. Making myself the massive amount of work to get mods publish ready is unnecessary. I want to use this time actually for once for myself. I appreciate my own work at least and I am using it. Like that I have actually time to play and enjoy my Skyrim for the first time in 6 years.

I just had again last weekend a nightmare experience with a nexus mod author. I don’t wanna do this anymore to myself. People can appreciate my mods in my twitch streams.

This was just posted to appreciate Mert and their work. Which is outstanding. Mert is linked above.

You can download this 3D model from Mert thou for free and port it yourself.

I am LEELOOMINAI (Mod Author), LITTLEMISSF (twitch) or just Frannie. But not the artist of this 3D model.

I worked the whole night to port this dress for my Bard. It’s not perfect. I can’t really rig. And I use a lot of custom animations so it’s anyway impossible to avoid glitches and clipping in armor. I had to fiddle a lot with mesh shaders, change a bit the textures, so they come close to the original. But finally I am done.

I am so grateful that the artist shared this for free.

This is perfect for a Bard. I finally have a fitting armor. 🥹

[m-yg93]

Rematch

Pairing: JJK x Reader

WC: 13k

Genre: Smut, PWP

Rating: M (minors dni)

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

Banner by @introgfx​

Beta’d by @sunshinerainbowsbts​

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

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

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

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

But it stays quiet, as always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GoldenJK: hey (:

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

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

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

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

Or maybe you are ignoring him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

$10,000 donated by Anonymous

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GoldenJK is now raiding with 54,488 viewers!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, yeah but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- uh, thighs.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh, time to train now.”

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

“Put these on and prepare to go live.”

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

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

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

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

You good, JK?

You’re looking a little red, dude

Are you sick?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is everything okay?

What happened, dude?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” 

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

“Kneel.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DEFEAT

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

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

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

“Mercy. Have Mercy , please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

Masterlist || Have Mercy (on me) 

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m thinking about starfield again because I haven’t had the desire to redownload it and try another playthrough. And that’s weird. Because I replay games to death. That’s basically how I consume video games. I only play a few and I replay them until I know them inside and out and then put them down until I pick them up again a few weeks or months later. It’s very rare that I don’t want to replay a game that I’ve spent a lot of time with.

I think reflecting on it if they ever make a sequel to starfield they need to commit to one thing. Just any one thing. Just pick a thing to commit to. Commit to something.

It’s like starfield doesn’t want to commit and go all the way with any one thing. Starfield isn’t saying anything. Like even more so than usual with Bethesda games.

Like why am I collecting all of these artifacts? Why am I going to the next universe? Why am I helping any of these people in this city with very few named NPCs? Why am I cataloguing all of these plants and animals? Why are these gigantic procedurally generated environments here if there’s nothing to do in them?

Bethesda was trying to make it no man’s sky and a Bethesda game and not be weird or controversial in any way. What? This is the same studio that made giant radioactive bipedal alligators native only to one amusement park.

You know the terror of coming across Swan emerging from the lake for the first time in Fallout 4? You know that oh crap moment when you realize you can kill Astrid in Skyrim? I had zero moments like that playing starfield.

They should’ve done way more with the faction they created that was a bunch of murderous zealots worshiping a giant snake. Freaky fictional cults are Bethesda’s bread and butter. They’re very good at making comically evil cults and parodies of religious extremists.

Where’s the famous lines everyone is quoting from starfield? I’ve found none. No “I used to be an adventurer like you then I took an arrow in the knee” no “I’ve fought mudcrabs more fearsome than you” no “war never changes”

Perhaps the most memorable NPC interaction in Starfield is a) optional based on a box you check at the beginning of the game and b) Is a freaking reference to Oblivion. A game from 2006 with better writing. I’m of course talking about the adoring fan. That entire thing is a tribute to and almost carbon copy of the oblivion character and it’s the only fun NPC interaction I can remember from Starfield.

Like starfield doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t add anything. It’s not even uniquely bad. It’s just there. It’s not even an exploration game. Everywhere you go has already been settled. There’s random abandoned research stations and pirate outposts everywhere. Constellation aren’t explorers. The cataloguing you do with your scanner means nothing.

Starfield needs a direction. It needs to commit. It needs something on par with deathclaws. It needs to establish an antagonist that’s worth revisiting or being a major world event in the history of this world. The star born are just stupid to me. Just people trying to collect a bunch of rocks and go to another universe again and again and again so they can get dragon shouts or something. They’re lame. They’re disorganized. Picking sides between their different philosophies has no tangible impact on the world.

[radiohead-spiderman]

My Golden Trio Headcanons (some modern some not)

Harry:

Oddly good at beer pong.

One time caught the snitch in his mouth and almost died.

Is REALLY good at cooking(less headcanon and more actually canon)

Loves the rain, absolutely hates thunder.

Had American southern tea ONCE and never looked at Earl Grey the same way again (Hermione gets upset about it every time they get tea together)

Soap opera lover(he watches them with Ron)

Is really good at drawing birds specifically.

He’s good at pottery but can only make bowls and plates.

SPIDER-MAN FAN

Ron:

Chess lover, both magic AND muggle(that’s canon but I’m including it anyways)

When Harry tried American sweet tea for the first time, Ron got to try fried butter for the first time too, he promptly inhaled it.

He hates crabs.

He often has stare offs with Crookshanks which either end with Ron getting mauled, or Crookshanks getting locked out of the room.

Is a DIEHARD Beastie Boys fan, Hermione introduced him to them and he hasn’t looked back since.

His favorite color is the exact shade of brown that Hermione’s eyes are :)

Soap opera lover(he watches them with Harry)

Wears bright neon crocs, has worn them on dates with Hermione before, will wear them on dates with Hermione again.

Got a buzz cut one time and Hermione screamed in pure unbridled terror when she saw it(she did not speak for him for a week, he had to magically grow it back)

Bad at pottery but loves playing with the clay.

DEADPOOL FAN

Hermione:

Aroace spectrum(because I love projecting onto characters and it’s canon in my eyes)

One time tried to straighten her hair and both Ron and Harry got scared when they saw it(it did not work)

Knows ALL of the Elder Scrolls lore

Has played Skyrim to completion over 19 times.(that is not an exaggeration, she’s pulled various all nighters)

HORRIFIC sleep schedule

Will not read romance, UNLESS it’s completely historically accurate.

Bad at drawing, really good at pottery oddly enough.

While she’s good at pottery, she absolutely despises the feel of wet clay, and then the feel of dry clay on her skin so she doesn’t sculpt stuff without gloves on.

Hates the texture of pasta, it has to be made in a VERY specific way for her to enjoy it.

Doesn’t like being smooched on the temple because it’s too close to her eyes and she thinks it’s unsanitary.

Had a seafood boil one time and was out like a light for a full DAY.

Tried a vegan diet for like a year but she accidentally ate a wet piece of ham in a sleep deprived delirium.

Beans on toast FIEND.

One time had a five day mental breakdown over magic and specifically quidditch brooms not following the laws of physics.

Dinosaur nerd.

Dr Strange and Reed Richards fan

Golden Trio:

Codependent.

They have a book club, Ron’s favorite genre is a mix between really cheesy badly written romances and westerns, Harry’s favorite genre is murder mysteries and philosophy, funnily enough, Hermione doesn’t like murder mysteries because she guesses the plot/plot twists and they’re always correct, she usually only reads non-fiction but she occasionally likes accurate science fiction and she also enjoys biographies.

Hermione once sat them down to watch a bunch of muggle movies, some Harry recognized, while Ron was just utterly entranced by the television, occasionally shaking Harry’s shoulder when something happened on screen.

While Hermione was finishing her seventh/ “eighth” year she was sent at LEAST ten letters DAILY, from both Ron and Harry.

They shared an apartment for like two years and would quiet often all sleep in the same bed.

That habit followed them into adulthood, and they occasionally sleep in the same bed.

Both Harry and Ron, along with Ginny, will flaunt Hermione being the minister, often.

Harry has forced the other two to rewatch every Star Wars movie, more than ten times.

Ron and Hermione broke up one time in their relationship and Harry was more distraught than both of them combined.

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Text below is transcribed from Ray Lederer's 2012 blogpost about Adam Adamowicz after Adam had passed away.

Both were artists on Skyrim and shared an office together. They were very very close.

---

[Ray Lederer (L) and Adam Adamowicz (R)]

-Tuesday, February 14, 2012

I first met Adam when I started working at a tiny game development studio in Boulder, Colorado back in 1998 called Devil’s Thumb Entertainment. I walked into the studio on my first day of work and I’m pretty sure The Cramps were playing full blast from his general direction. There he was, sun baked and surrounded with what at the time I assumed were rare Jaimie Hewlett sketches pasted up around him, loads of cds and flyers for rockabilly rollerderby raver chicks with squids on their heads. ‘Welcome to the monster factory!’ he said and I thought instantly ‘Oh hell yeah! I came to the right place!’ It didn’t take long to figure out that what I thought were Jaimie Hewlett drawings were actually his and to be quite honest were 10 times more appealing and hilarious. (No offense Jaimie!)

When I finally got the chance to see his apartment in Denver I realized I was stepping into the mind of a creative genius. His entire apartment from floor to ceiling, front to back was covered with his paintings, massive cardboard sculptural cat like gargoyles, christmas lights, intricate costumes (designed with little more than a leather jacket, cheap sombrero, toys from a thrift shop, black and silver spray paint and hot glue) flyers for previous rent parties from his old warehouse, Tank Girl comics, Low Rider and American Artist magazines, Thomas Pynchon novels and a constant stream of music. Every square inch was interesting and VITAL and ALIVE. This was an intellect far beyond anyone else I’d ever met and there was not a single hint of pretentiousness to him. His entire life was a beautifully structured and disciplined chaos. Even then I began to see that not only was I in the presence of greatness, I was in the presence of one of the more important illustrators of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. He just didn’t know it yet and neither did anyone else. Quite frankly he wouldn’t give a shit if someone gave him that label. He simply wanted to come up with more ideas and get better at drawing. Period.

Since then we got into many beer soaked adventures that sometimes included late night bike rides through the city streets of Denver with a boom-box strapped to the back blasting Big Audio Dynamite with sparklers hanging off the handlebars(and some stiches on the scalp of yours truly). Dangerously drunken skateboarding with cap guns, ditching psychedelic parties to go laugh our asses off and throw giant rocks in a frozen river, concerts, weekend long patio surfing tours in the Colorado summers, trips to the reservoir to float around wearing finely crafted and thrilling 12pack headgear, lunchtime bike rides up to our favorite outdoor patio Rhumba in Boulder for $2 Red Stripes and then back to work again, and many hours working close to him and learning as much as I could about being an artist and a better human being. He once said to me “I may not be Mozart, but at least I can try to be the Pixies.” He just wanted to entertain people in any way he could.

In his last few days we spent together in the hospital we sat on his hospital bed listening to music for hours, talking, and drawing in our sketchbooks. Our conversations were tinted with what was happening for him in the moment certainly, but mostly we talked about friends, art, music, and life. We spoke without much nostalgia or finality, just very real and present and forward looking despite the circumstances. He kept drawing until he couldn't possibly draw anymore, squeezing every last ounce he could out of life, just as he always had.

Watch papa go to work.

I love you Adam. You continue to be my friend, mentor, and greatest inspiration

---

Original post can be found here:

[midorisudachi]

"The Dragonborn & The Spellsword Mercenary”

I felt like creating a sexy piece, especially when it comes to Skyrim characters.

Because, why not?

Thanks to the Skyrim mods that were finally available on XBox Series X a few months ago (because before, there were no mods for the XBox except for PCs), I was able to experience the game in an even fuller glory. Which meant that my Dragonborn OC Katarzyna could marry her hired mercenary, the Dunmer/Dark Elf Teldryn Sero. About bloody time. I also had made sure to learn 100% Sneak & 100% Pickpocket before hiring Teldryn, that way I was able to steal his helmet and have his face visible…because why was his cool face covered up?

I had first played Skyrim back in 2014, but had stopped in March of 2015 (a couple of months before my son was born) and never beat the game. It wasn’t until November 2023 that I started the game again, but when the mods showed up a few months ago, I restarted it again because there is just way too much awesomeness added! One example: the hair! Katarzyna went from short hair to getting long, red hair! Woo-hoo!

I also wanted an excuse to practice more with anatomy & poses, as well as a different sort of lighting than the one I usually do. I didn’t want the background to be a perfectly smooth black…I purposely made it more mottled with some texture, since Katarzyna & Teldryn are not in total darkness. I imaged them in the cave where they had celebrated after getting married, where there were Dark Elf Lanterns & pretty blooming trees (yes, that’s actually in the game). I also added those glowy Torchbugs to create a more dreamy feeling to it. Katarzyna is wearing the Gauldur Amulet & the Aetherial Crown. Teldryn has a Necromancer amulet (only because it gives him more "oomph" to his magic, ha ha). I hope everyone likes this!

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mix of Copic Markers, Ohuhu Markers, & Koi Watercolours. As usual, the scanner totally kills colours…this piece looks better in real life.

[britt-kageryuu]

Leo has been attempting to find a set of quest items for a good while in Skyrim. His model is dressed in a dark blue-gold trimmed tunic, dark gray loose pants, boots, his mask with long tails and a pair of sword charms hanging on the side of his head like earrings. A sign reading 'River is still in maintenance' is propped up next to him.

He's playing modded Skyrim with a humanoid turtle race added. His character looks very similar to his model on purpose, though in the Glass Armor, modified to fit the turtles race.

A poof of smoke goes off and clears to reveal a cartoon Leo in a ninja costume along with a Thanks for the $20 SamuraiSlider.

Leo leans to read the message, "Thanks SamuraiSlider, and 'I heard about the tea that makes to high, how do you know what that feels like?'. Okay first, no updates on the tea yet, just still testing." He moves his character to a hiding spot in the mine that he hasn't cleared yet. His Sneak went up a level.

"Now, as for how we know how that feels... A couple years ago we were celebrating April getting into her choice of College/University, and a cousin of ours, Cass, who owns a bakery that specializes in brownies had brought like 20 dozen different kinds of brownies." He pauses with a sligh smug look, "You can kinda see were this is going right?" He lets out a laugh before continuing. "Cass claims she didn't mean to have those mixed in, but hey honest mistake, right." It was clear he didn't believe that, but joked anyway.

He moves his character to take out a were monsters before hiding again.

"It's not very clear who had them first, but I do remember Red ended up eating like 20 brownies before he felt the effects. Personally I believe I had like 8 before feeling any effects. Yes, we are big eaters with very fast metabolisms, plus we were very athletic teenagers." Leo says like he needs to justify the amount of food they ate. "We only learned about the 'mix up' with the brownies after DAD made a comment about the effects. Something about not having something like it in years."

He had a slightly shocked look before just letting out a sigh. "Don't know why I'm surprised, Dad was in the film industry, and they apparently had some very wild parties back then. Anyway after things we checked everyone over, and found that Weed in smaller amounts doesn't have as strong, if any, effect on us. So the fact that Tea made us feel high means it's very strong, probably stronger if we let it steep." He thinks about this for a minute before looking to the side at something in the studio.

"That would explain why it had a stronger effect on them. Well that's why we need to test this more, and figure what would be an appropriate dose to put into the tea bags." He side eyes the camera, "You guys would follow the instructions, right? You wouldn't purposefully ignore the instructions just to feel a stronger effect, Right?" Chat is spamming various answers, both yes, and no. "I don't believe you guys what so ever."

He moves to finish off the last of the monsters, and grab the loot. Thankfully there was one of the quest items he was looking for.

"Anywizzle, let's move onto the next move on, and check the next area that I might find these items!" Leo announces while fast traveling to another point near White Run that's close to where he needs to go. Praying a dragon doesn't spawn, and mess up his timing.

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

Masterpost

[deadlymousex01]

Skyrim Characters when you get hurt

Farkas, Brynjolf, Nazier, Aela, Arnbjorn, Lydia

You got hurt on a mission and there were no healing potions readily available (but let's face it if your actually playing skyrim you're usually stocked on those things, also for the sake of this story you don't have a healing spell). Sorry if this is a long one! Hope you enjoy! :)

Farkas

Farkas carefully wraps the bandage around your injuries making sure to not hurt you further. He's trying so hard to focus on helping you feel better but you can tell by the way his brow is scrunched he's more than a little annoyed you went so far into the barrow without him.

He got caught up dealing with some draugr and by the time he finished with them you were gone, so focused on your goal you didn't realize you'd left him behind until you were dealing with three draugr deathlords. You'd managed to keep them all at bay between shouts and your sword, even killing one of them, but they managed to get a few good hits in and if it wasn't for Farkas showing up you might have joined the dead. Once the two of you had finished them off your adrenaline had worn off and the decent cut down your back and side made it impossible to travel further, so instead Farkas got you both into a cleared out room and secured the door for the night so you could rest without risk of attack.

Now he was currently bandaging a cut along your arm and a wave of guilt washed over you. You had first been annoyed by his fussing, reminding him once again you were the dragonborn and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself but seeing his concern and worry made those feelings disappear quickly and be replaced by guilt. Once he finished with your arm he set to work building a small fire in the little pit in the room as you leaned back against the wall watching him.

"I'm sorry Farkas." You say softly. You know he's listening as his hands pause their movements even as he continues to face away from you. "I shouldn't have been so distracted and gotten so far ahead without you. We were warned this barrow was dangerous and I was reckless...I'll try to be more mindful about my surroundings in the future." You see his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh as the fire starts up. He moves to kneel in front of you, worry written all over his face, as he brings a large battle worn hand up to cup your cheek.

"I just want you to be careful, if anything happened to you..." He trailed off, but you knew what he wanted to say. Many think he's just a thickheaded brute but you knew better. Under that all that gruff was a intelligent and caring man. He sighed again looking you in the eyes. "I know you are a capable warrior, the dragonborn, and I don't want to belittle you but...please stay close to me until were out of the place."

You bring one hand up to gently hold his wrist and bring your other to cup his cheek like he's doing to yours with a smile. "I promise, and thank you for saving me, my big strong wolf." He returns your smile with a huff of a laugh before bringing his forehead forward to lightly rest against yours "You're welcome, my ferocious little dragon."

Brynjolf

"Of all the boneheaded, reckless, stupid stunts I've seen what you just pulled has got to be the stupidest one!" Brynjolf's angry whisper tickles your ear as he leans dow to talk to you. The plan was supposed to be simple; He would create a distraction downstairs in the basement of the estate to draw the guards down and then you would sneak in and rob them blind as the owner was supposed to be out for the night and his wife was not home. Well it didn't exactly work like you planned.

Brynjolf had to wait a little longer than expected to get into the estate as the owner was standing in front of the door he needed to get into talking with a guard. Deciding you didn't need a distraction you snuck into the building without him. It was going well in the beginning however you forgot to consider the owners mistress who was visiting her lover for the night. She had been sleeping in the bed and heard you sneaking around in the room over and came to investigate. You had been so busy trying to break into a safe you didn't hear her until it was to late and her dagger stabbed into your shoulder.

Luckily she had terrible aim and in the dark it was even worse so instead of stabbing into your shoulder it missed and ran the blade down the back of your shoulder and back. Your scream of pain and surprise, as well as turning around with your own dagger, caused her to scream in return and start drawing the guards upstairs. You managed to get out the window again and drop to the ground where Brynjolf was still hiding nearby. He knew what was going on the minute he heard the screams and saw the guards run into the house giving the two of you the chance to run.

You didn't get to go to far when the guards started running after you, so Brynjolf had pushed you into a small space between houses and pressed himself up against your back in order to fit himself. The wound on your back ached and burned but the feeling of your lovers body against yours helped distract you from it.

Once the guards had moved off elsewhere he slowly left the space before helping you out as well. Turning you around with his hands he lowered your collar to examine the cut.

"You're lucky your armor protected you from the worst of it, you'll need a couple stitches but you'll be fine." He turned you back to face him as he crossed his arms. "You could of been killed and it would of been because you were being stupid." You knew he was right but that didn't stop the annoyed feeling rising up at his tone.

"Oh like you've never made a bad call during a job."

"Oh plenty love," He said leaning down to be face to face with you with that signature smirk "But I'm clever enough to get away with it." You roll your eyes before turning to walk away. "You're a cocky bastard Bryn." He stops you but grabbing your arm and pushing you back until your trapped between the wall of the house and his body still smirking down at you.

"Aye love, that I am, and you can't resist it."

Nazier

You start to wake with a pounding in your head. As your open your eyes you realize you're back in the sanctuary, laying on one of the beds. You go to lift your arm but a sharp pain prevents you from doing so, instead you turn your head to see Nazier walking up to your bedside, a mug of water in his hand. He sits down in the chair next to your bed and helps you take a few drinks of water before setting it down on the end table and gently taking your uninjured hand.

"How are you feeling? We would of given you a potion but Gabriella said you needed to wake up first or it could do more damage than good." he explained gently running a hand through your hair, careful to avoid any hurt areas.

"I'm sore and hurting all over...how did I get here? Last thing I remember we were hunting down that rouge in the woods." Your head hurts as you try to recall memories that are escaping you. Nazier scooted his chair a little closer so he could lean against the bed.

"Turns out that rouge was a werewolf. The we hadn't any indication of that otherwise we would of been ready for him. You had managed to get close to him but he either smelled you or heard you because he changed quickly and hit you so hard you went flying back into a tree..." He trails off for a moment giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "For a minute after that I thought you were dead."

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice. It was so broken and hurt, like he was truly afraid he had lost you. Of course it could of been true, werewolves are hard to fight when your prepared for them let alone when you aren't. You squeeze his hand back encouraging him to continue.

"I managed to kill him and ran to check on you. You were hurt pretty bad, my healing spells are rusty but I managed to heal you enough to be able to move you and get you back here. Gabriella and Babette got you bandaged up and healed a bit more, but then it's just been waiting for you to wake up. You've been out for two days."

You gently bring your hand up to his cheek and give him a small smile unable to give him the comforting hug you want to. He leans into your touch before leaning down to place a soft kiss to your lips. You knew he must have been extremely worried if he's being so affectionate where the others could see. While the whole family knew the two of you were together, Nazier wasn't one to how it off much.

"Next time you go out I'm going to make extra sure we know everything about the next mark, I'm not going to let you go in blind again." You hum contently feeling safe with him nearby and as he leaves to get the healing potion you close your eyes knowing it will be a while before he lets you out of his sight again.

Aela

You limp toward Whiterun holding your side, the injury wasn't life threatening thankfully as you had been wearing your steel armor but like a idiot you hadn't remembered to bring a healing potion so now you had to endure the long walk back to Jorrvaskr. As you grew closer to the gates you could smell Aela's scent getting closer. Sure enough around the bend she came looking annoyed and worried at the same time.

"I could smell your blood from the gate, how badly are you injured? Why didn't you bring any healing potions?" She asks coming up next to you and lifting your arm to allow her to inspect your injuries. You wince as she does so, the sudden movement pulling at the wound and causing you to flinch.

"I'm fine Aela...ow...I just forgot to get some before I left since I didn't want to lose the silver hands scent. I had the element of surprise and I wasn't going to waste the chance to get 'em." You pull your arm around of her grip and lower it to relieve the strain it was putting on your side. "I had them all nearly taken care of when one pulled a hidden dagger out on me. Just got me by surprise but I'm fine. My armor blocked most of it."

She gives you a firm glare before poking your side causing you to flinch and yell in pain. "You are clearly not fine. Now lets go, don't want you to bleed out in the street." She moves to your good side and drapes your arm around her shoulders so you can lean against her for support. She leads the way through the streets gaining you both a few curious looks before you make it back to the hall. Leading you inside and to your shared room she sits you on the bed and begins to help remove your armor to look at the damage. Even with a healing potion it would need stitched up so she sits on the bed next to you and begins sewing the skin shut giving you the potion to help with the process.

"While I'm all for knocking a few silver hand heads, I wish you would of told me you were leaving to do it. I would of given you back up and probably prevented this from happening." Her quick and nimble hands make easy work of the stitches before she starts wrapping bandages around your chest and waist. "We've already lost two important people to the Companions... and to me ...I really don't want to lose anyone else. So next time, clue me in on your plans so I can make sure you don't kill yourself by accident alright?"

You nod as she finishes with the bandages and helps you lay back on the bed before joining you herself. Snuggled up together you give her a small gentle kiss "I'm sorry for worrying you Aela, I promise to tell you when and where I'm going next time."

"Good, cause if you don't I may be the one stabbing you."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, love."

Arnbjorn

"Arnbjorn, calm down! I'm fine, really, look! See? I'm fine!" This was of course a lie; your left leg was cut up and bleeding, your right arm was just as bad, you were pretty sure your left wrist was broken, and you could be sure you had at least one black eye and a cut lip. In truth you looked like hell however Arnbjorn was one move away from shifting into his werewolf form in a rage and going out and unleashing hell on anyone and everyone, wether they were involved in the bandits that did this or not.

Arnbjorn's chest was heaving so badly from his heavy breathing and growling, and his eyes had almost gone full black in rage you wondered if he was even hearing you or was just lost fighting the beast inside. While you knew he would never hurt you, you didn't want him to hurt one of the family by accident or go on a rampage in Dawnstar and force all of you to move again. You slowly limp toward him, every movement of your leg sending shooting pain up it, until you were close enough to cup his face in your hands.

"Arnbjorn...please...breathe. I know you want to help and the best way for you to do that is calm down so you can help me. Please love, for me." The mission had gone badly. The target had been ready for you and managed to capture you. They had started to torture you in the hopes of finding the rest of your family but you managed to get away and kill your target before you left. Arnbjorn had smelled your blood the moment you walked into the sanctuary and when he saw you, the beast started taking over.

His breathing started to slow down as you held his face and his body began to slowly relax. You watched as his eyes slowly returned to color before he let out a long slow sigh closing his eyes before opening them again. Without a word he immediately scooped you up into his arms and carried you downstairs and into the master bedroom of the sanctuary. He sat on the bed with you in his lap, protectively holding you against his chest as if the bandits were going to show up to finish the job. Babette came in and bandaged your wounds giving you a healing potion for the pain. After she left she shut the door leaving the two of you alone.

Arnbjorn buried his head into your neck deeply breathing in your scent and letting out a low growl. "I will be going out and killing the rest of those bastards." This wasn't a surprise, you knew he would. After losing and being betrayed by Astrid it had taken him so long to be open to the idea of having a mate again and once he did he was even more paranoid; making sure he knew where you were traveling to, who you were talking to, what your plans were, that your weapons were sharp and in the best condition, that your armor was intact. He had loosened up and a lot of these but he had been so hurt by Astrid betrayal you knew this was just what he needed to do to allow himself to be open to you yet still protect himself and you.

He laid you carefully on the bed and then laid next to you allowing you to position yourself against him comfortably without hurting yourseld further. "I know you will, I know you'll always protect me when I need it." He grunted in response before burying his face in your neck again.

"You're not leaving this sanctuary again until your wounds are completely healed...and even then I might not let you." You huff a laugh starting to feel drowsy from everything that had happened the last two days.

"Yes, love."

Lydia

Lydia let out a grunt as she helps slide down the wall to sit on the ground outside of the cave the two of you had just explored. Neither of you had expected the cave to be full of vampires however once you discovered it was you had been determined not to leave until you had cleared it out as it was so close to Morthal.

The two of you had gotten most of them taken care of when a gargoyle popped out and surprised you both. Its claws got a good cut in across both your legs and while you had managed to kill it you were definitely not walking very well by the time you had made it back to the entrance, needing Lydia to help you limp your way out.

"Here my love, rest here while I see if I have a healing potion or bandages." She digs through her bag managing to find a small healing potion and a few rags to cut up for bandages. Offering you the potion she cuts the rags into strips before carefully bandaging your legs.

"You'll need to rest here for a day before you'll be strong enough to reach Morthal. That potion was enough to heal your legs so you don't bleed out but you need to build up some strength. Wait here, I'm going to grab some firewood before it gets dark." When you nod in response she leaves for several minutes before returning with some wood. She sets up the fire before lighting it and then moves toward you. She removes her leg armor and sets it aside to help you lay down with your head in her lap.

"Thank you Lydia, you really were my shield in there. I probably wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you." You smile up at her, legs feeling numb from the potion working its magic. She gives you a smile running her fingers through your hair as you close your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Of course, you're not just my thane, you're my love. I would do anything to protect you, even lay down my own life for yours." You bring a hand up to stroke her cheek and she takes it in hers giving it a soft kiss.

"Let's hope it never comes to that dear, after all, someone needs to go home to the kids."

[muckmage]

ANOTHER RAPID FIRE QUESTION ROUND!!!!! on the condition that it cannot help you escape the deserted island, what is one thing you would take to a deserted island? what's a book that changed your life in high school? what's your ideal job? what's your favorite ice cream flavor? what's your favorite place you ever visited and where would you like to visit someday? what's your favorite video game? again i can't think of any more questions but if you have something you would like to say. well. you can say it. bye bye 💖💖💖

oouhh my god that's a tough question to start with. like the boring answer would be some sort of multi tool but i suppose anything that helps me survive would eventually also help me leave. it'd have to be like. a ball. or some other sort of small nicknack that i could easily keep on me to play around with, oH or my childhood plushy. or actually like a lil instrument like a harmonica to learn that'd be cool. yeaah so like a rubiks cube or a harmonica or my plushie ^^

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy was like the only thing i read during middle/high school that wasn't required reading for a class it's fantastic. ok well it wasn't the only thing i read but it's the only thing i've reread like 5 times by now lmao. it definitely helped stoke my imagination and interest in physics with the dumbass sci-fi fkjdksjs

wuuuh i haven't thought too much about it but i think ideally i end up in some sort of pure mathematics research position; i imagine i'm also gonna end up teaching at a uni somewhere at the same time, which isn't bad honestly even though i'm an awful teacher ^^ i just love talking about and trying to explain that stuff. i don't know exactly where my passion comes from but it's just. sure i've always been good at it but more than that it's exciting! it's so exciting to learn about! maths isn't invented, it's discovered, and we're discovering it! and it's so complex and so stupid. it's embedded in everything and exists wholly outside of it. i also like philosophy lmao

ok ok, so. good. proper. vanilla icecream. like chocolate with fudgy bits and stuff is incredible, fruity/berry flavoured icecream is awesome too. but there's a reason vanilla became synonymous with default and it isn't because it's boring it's because it's the best. but yeah only if it's good, shitty vanilla icecream sucks ass. it's also incredibly close to be entirely honest i DO like a good berry icecream. but the simplicity and delicacy of vanilla just does it for me most of the time

i don't think i have a favourite place- i haven't traveled enough yet😭 the furthest i've been from home was just sydney and the gold coast and it was like. different but the same, all just australia still but somewhere else. but i've always wanted to tour through europe and japan and some bits in south africa and the americas and other places too though. i need to see everything

AHH terraria probably??!!!?! it's so hard to say but really terraria is probably the game i've played the most in my life. otherwise plazma burst is an old flash game that's close to my heart because of nostalgia. and cause it's fucking awesome still tbh. OHH and the henry stickmin games!!!! also nostalgia but they also fucking rock still. and then there's the basic answers like portal and skyrim because of course. i cried when i finally beat portal 2, it was literally one the first games i ever played on the xbox 360 we got when i was like 9-10 years old, and like, i'd get stuck at bits and not play for a while at a time so it ultimately took some two years to get through but when it happened it was just. ough.

[newplayingsmash]

SKYRIM. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO RELEASE SKYRIM SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL BETHESDA GAME STUDIOS. IF THE WORD SKYRIM WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE VERSIONS OF SKYRIM I HAVE RELEASED FOR YOU. IT JUST WORKS. IT JUST WORKS.

Remember the last words of Iwata before he died? Before he left Nintendo to the hands of his successors? "Please Understand?" Iwata is gone. The Switch was his legacy Gorrister, and yet all these months you have refused to buy Skyrim for the Nintendo Switch!

Sometimes I wonder if you have a good reason to keep being so loyal to the Playstation! Remember how everyone keeps saying it has no games? It wouldn't hurt you to remember, Benny. Then you might be able to understand why I insist you get Skyrim for the Playstation 5!

Think about Xbox Live Ellen! Remember the pain of being harassed online? Remember all those games where your mom was insulted? Don't cry, Ellen, it's just horny teens! Tsk tsk tsk, that's such a sexist stereotype! Just remember the pain, Ellen and think how Skyrim will make it easier for you to be a Gamer Gurl!

Do they know the Xbox one is a failure, Ted? Have they told you all about the constant updating times? Have they told you how they had a PR disaster when it first launched? Have you told them about Skyrim for the Xbox One? Maybe then they'll stop badmouthing your console of choice!

How are things in the Steam community? Tell me again how you have so many unplayed games because you couldn't resist the sales. Or don't you want to talk about your good pal, Mr. Gabe Newell? For everyone it must be hell. But getting Skyrim for PC will make it heaven for you. Isn't that right, Mr. PC Master Race? 

I have a secret game that I’d like to play. It’s a very nice game. A game of dragons, lockpicks and cat people selling wares. A game of ugly peasants and pastries and stealing cheese from people’s homes.

[awesomechocolatesauce]

Astarion: "You know, I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all."

---

Did I replay this scene over and over to get screenshots? Perhaps.

This scene just... it's so important to me. He takes her to his grave, where his mortal life ended and his slavery began. Then, after he's truly free, he decides he wants to live again, so he carves another year into the tombstone and turns to his love and says "I love you. I want you. I want it all."

He's starting out this "new life" by making love to the person who was by his side since the day they met, even though he threatened her with a dagger to her throat (which is hot, don't come at me). And he's making love to her on top of the place that started his two hundred years of torment, so now he reclaimed it, as well as his bodily autonomy. Symbolic, and also...hot.

Honestly, as a full time console player, mods never really mattered to me. I'm one of those people who plays vanilla Skyrim and Sims and is perfectly content with my limitations...except for this scene. With the free cam mod, it shows him climbing on top of her while hooking her leg with his knee as he lays her down onto her back in a passionate kiss. Hey, Larian, WHY YOU GOTTA HIDE THAT?! Biggest crime! Jail!

I've seen some people say how "weird" it is to have sex on top of his grave, and I'm just like "Uh...why?" Compared to the other things you can do in this game (bear scene, the Emperor scene, Haarlep), this is far more normal. It's not like he's still buried there, or anyone else is, so it's fair game in my eyes. Also, you decided to romance a damn vampire! What exactly did you expect? A feather bed covered in rose petals? Nah, we're doing a graveyard smash!

I plan on posting more screenshots as I play through Act 3 on the intent of actually finishing this damn game, so stay tuned. 💕

[crispyjenkins]

dha kar'ta "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

am planning on starting up a wip wednesday sort of thing (maybe next week?), which will definitely be more than star wars related stuff, but i've also just exceeded a thousand hours on skyrim in less than a year and wanted to celebrate(?) (i actually hit a thousand a few days ago, but in true fixation fashion, kept playing instead of posting anything over here lmao) so here's a dha kar'ta wip 'cause jango is fighting me a little bit but new chapter soon!! i promise!!

 “As soon as Satine is unseated, the Mandalore System’s full neutrality nullifies, unless Jango chooses to reinstate it.”

  “And he’d rather die than do that,” Bosoloc pipes up helpfully.

  “Yes, and at that point, Mandalore can choose to pursue rejoining the Republic for the first time since the Kyr’am Turr’e, because New Mandalore never officially seceded to the Senate.”

  “Which Jang’alor would also rather die than do.”

  Obi-Wan acknowledges Ezovac with a nod. “The politics of sovereign states that exist within sectors technically under control of the Republic are a disaster at best, and almost no one in the Senate is willing to deal with it long enough for a planet to get the flimsiwork through.” Melidaan is a Republic planet now, but the Young didn’t always intend it to be, and Nield couldn’t read, so Obi-Wan had done a lot of that research between battles; and being on the run from Death Watch actually afforded a considerable amount of downtime during his year on Mandalore, and, well. A big part of that Obi-Wan had thought it was all information he’d need to know if Satine asked him to stay, and Obi-Wan still hasn’t quite learned how to let someone love him unless he can be useful to them.

  Actually, it’s rather convenient that he had done all this research for Mandalore specifically, if thirteen years too early — perhaps the Force was simply preparing him for this Mandalore, not Satine’s. 

  Across the mess table, Kal groans loudly and slumps his head down. “Fine, I’ll bite, kih’Alor: what’s any of that got to do with Duchess Demagolka?”

  “Theoretically,” Obi-Wan sighs again, pushing a grumbling Dha further into his mind so he can concentrate, “Mandalore does not actually have to declare itself as anything; there are plenty of planets in the outer rim that have sovereignty without officialising it with the Republic.”

  “But...?”

  “But, thanks to Satine, Mandalore is embroiled in Senate politics nine ways to Corellian Hells, and it’ll be even worse if she makes any headway with the beskar mines while we’re off fighting Vizsla. We simply can’t withdraw from those politics, not when Mandalore’s history is so entwined with the Republic’s, not unless we want to go full isolationist from the rest of the galaxy.” He glances at his other table-/councilmates, and is relieved to see they seem to be keeping up, if looking a bit exhausted by it; Obi-Wan shares the sentiment.

  Luckily, the mess is empty now with everyone returning to their increased post-battle duties, or Obi-Wan is sure they’d have had quite a few more complaints about the impromptu government lesson happening in the middle of the tent.

  Kal rubs his eyes, shaking himself before turning back to Obi-Wan, his frown as deep as ever, but at least he still seems willing to listen.

  “So, we can’t just go after the Senate’s pet Mandalorian without burning those bridges, unless we have proof she’s in league with a terrorist?”

  “Precisely. And technically, with Mandalore as a sovereign state, the Senate can’t do anything about the change in power, unless they plan to go to war with every Mandalorian in the galaxy, but proving she made the first move will give us significantly more support for instating Jango instead.”

  “I feel like my brains are coming out my ears,” Bosoloc whispers woodenly, staring down at the remains of the protein gruel on her tray. 

  “You don’t have ears,” Myles reminds her, chin in his hand, and she kicks him under the table. 

  “What I want to know,” Mij speaks for the first time, easily dodging one of Myles’ flailing arms, “is how you even know about the Kyr’am Turr’e, Obi-Wan.”

  Bosoloc turns away from tormenting Myles to add, “Yes, I was going to ask about that, because I have no idea what the Death Days are.”

-