#this one got away from me a ton so i delayed posting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pookiwookis · 6 months

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widowmaker x fem reader (royalty/assassin au)

thought of this during exam season hyperfixating on widow😵‍💫😵‍💫

pretty self indulgent but i wouldn't say it's too much though.

i got tons of help from Rama (the other admin) writing this fic <3 :3

(also I'm sorry if i get anything wrong history-wise correct me if I'm wrong lol)

posted this as @Bunnyalien on Ao3 !!

(reader is a princess and widow is a spy/assassin) - mittens 🫧

Description:

Rated: R

Words: 4,669

tw: mentions of ab*se and bl**d.

Its 1880, and Amelie is part of a gang whom she considers family for they have took her in when she was ten, when her own family were taken away from her which she learns from her gang members that “they were killed by the royalty” and she was devastated for there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, because she was a child, a peasant and a girl.

Amelie was trained to be a professional sniper by said gang and she was extremely skilled, she always worked in the shadows and no one knew of her. She even gained respect, but she was mostly feared by other people who know her as “Widowmaker”.

As Amelie grew into her teenage years, not only did her skills as an assassin grow, but so did her desire to find the ones who killed her parents. She has been pressuring the gang to let her pursue her parents’ murderers for a while now, but she’s only been met with delays and excuses on how she’s not “strong” or “capable” enough. She was very young -that’s true, but she was truly exceptional. Still, that didn’t seem to convince any of the older, more experienced assassins that she was ready for this. She had been living like this for months now.

until one day she’s had enough. The gang’s elder and most respected members were having an emergency meeting regarding their next mission. Amelie up until this point has been sitting down silently, simply listening, waiting for her chance to speak. Though as the gang’s youngest and least experienced member, she knew she’d never get her chance to voice her opinion, so she took it herself. She stood up amidst the endless chatter, slammed her hands against the creaking table and yelled for everyone’s attention.

She then reminded everyone of her mission that she’s been begging to go on for months. Once again, she was met with harsh rejections and excuses. Amelie stormed out of the little cabin with anger rushing through her veins. She ran to the one place that always provided her comfort and peace; the beautiful lake by their hideout. As she sat on one of the big rocks staring into the water, Louie approached, he was the closest member to Amelie, he basically raised her as one of his own, the familial connection felt genuine when it comes to Louie.

At that moment Louie had confessed to her about the truth of her family’s murder, the gang who took her in- the ones she considered family were her parents’ murderers. Amelie turned to stone, she lost all faith in humankind that day, she understood the true meaning of being a peasant, her parents were murdered in cold blood and no one did anything about it…? She was spiralling- internally at least, but externally she showed no emotion. And after a while that night she felt… numb.

She had decided to keep her knowledge of the truth about her parents’ murder a secret and she swore on her life she would take down every single lying and evil rat in this hell of a gang, except for Louie of course. She’s forever grateful for him.

–

Amelie is 35 now, the gang had a member of theirs killed wrongfully by the royal guards, the queen and king paid it no mind for they knew that the gang members were very infamously ruthless. She was sick of this, and so were her gang, so they had a well-thought plan in which they assigned Amelie- their only female gang member, to be a spy, she dresses up as a personal maid for the royal family’s only princess and assassinates her. Amelie knew this mission was gonna take long, the king and queen knew how much their princess is sought after, so they have her extra guarded after the recent incident with the killing of the gang member.

Amelie never knew how the princess looked like because royalty aren’t allowed to be shown publicly until they’re in reign, Amelie got to take her first look at the princess through a window after she got intel from Louie, who is also in on the mission being one of the castle’s guards (the servants love to gossip), Amelie had her binoculars through said window on top of a high roof, and she won’t lie, the princess was absolutely gorgeous, she wore her bedroom attire getting ready for an afternoon nap, she couldn't help but think “how unfortunate it would be to see such a breathtaking face disappear.”

–

After successfully disguising herself as a maid, Amelie made her way up to be the princess’s personal maid, this took about 2 months. It may have been 2 months but Amelie was still extremely committed, she was enraged by both the killing of her gang member and her parents, not a day goes by without her thinking of dismembering her gang members. Amelie was very, very patient.

Amelie started working her way up the maid ranks, gradually becoming one of the princess’s personal maids, she did her maid duties and tried to assassinate her during those duties, in the morning, the maids took turns in helping the princess get into her morning gown, and when it was Amelie’s turn, she had her blade positioned, she aimed for the kill- but of course she gets interrupted by the other maid calling and knocking saying the queen is asking for her presence as quick as possible.

She took another attempt in an afternoon tea session reader liked to have by the window that overlooked the fields, and had poison that kills instantly inside the kettle. Amelie poured for reader, the princess looked at it and winced her face, “is that earl grey?” She asked “yes princess” Amelie answers simply, knowing it was one of the princess’s favorites, she thought- but then again she probably got the wrong intel, “I want to have something else” Amelie went back to the kitchen in annoyance for she had ran out of poison to kill the princess.

Amelie does not give up, this mission will go through, she tried the same and different tactics time and time again, but to no avail, the princess really was heavily guarded. Until one lucky night (for Amelie), she managed to sneak in reader’s room, and it was four walls, Amelie and the princess- she had her laid out for her, reader was sleeping oh so soundly, Widowmaker was as quiet and light as a spider, she hovered over the sleeping princess, positioned her knife, she’s going for the kill!- but no.. she couldn’t…?

Amelie went to her bedchamber alongside the other maids who share the room with nothing but confusion, she’s even more confused about her actions than anything she has ever learned in her entire 35 years on this earth. She ceased her attempts to assassinate reader, (for the time being at least) and she’s trying to figure out what the hell happened that night. A little while later, Amelie had remained cold hearted- or at least she thought she was, she was nothing but a bundle of nerves and tension, she had felt scared. And she still wondered; why was she unable to assassinate the princess? The question remains to be unanswered for a while longer.

–

As time passed- a month or so, Amelie’s tension had transformed from draining and exhausting into exciting and fluttering. She had earned the princess’s favouritism,and that had her every glance, slightest gesture, feverishly captivating.

Days turned into weeks, Amelie has the mission at the back of her head, but it was no shortage of an excuse she thought, she had to get herself together, Amelie’s dire curiosity for the princess only bloomed intensely, it’s slowly turning into an obsession, but of course Amelie was in a huge state of denial of her feelings, even though each meeting with the princess had beckoned her to unveil all of her secrets. Gradually, Amelie had decided to dip her toes in the water and surrender to her heart. She started to have small conversations with reader during her afternoon tea time. She learned that the king and queen are pestering her about getting into an arranged marriage, they presented her multiple options but she refused all of them. Amelie didn’t dare ask but of course she was curious. The princess recognizes this but she stays silent about her reasoning nonetheless.

A couple of days later, the king and queen hosted a ball in honor of the princess; she was expected to waltz with the princes, despite her inner dread. Amelie couldn't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for reader who obediently fulfilled her royal duties. After a long stressful night for both reader and Amelie, Amelie is looking for reader in her chambers to get her ready for bed but she’s nowhere to be found, she then found the princess sitting on a chair in the balcony (her favourite spot), she’s still in her ball gown and her make up had weathered, her eyes teary, admiring the moon.

Without thinking twice, Amelie sat beside her and to her relief, reader leaned on her shoulder as if it was breathing. It might be past midnight and everyone’s asleep but she’s still paranoid, she could be beheaded. “I'm sorry” Amelie quietly muttered, it’s the only thing she can say really. The princess started bawling her eyes out, she latched onto Amelie, and she hugged her, Amelie hesitated, but shortly after she caressed her back gently.

Reader had calmed down and she stood up hurriedly, she reached her hand out to Amelie and Amelie hesitated but shortly after, took it in confusion, “do you know how to dance?” asked reader “uh- i apologise princess- i do not”, “well, you’re going to learn today” the princess smiled bitterly.

And so they danced alone in the middle of the dimly lit ballroom, the princess humming a familiar tune. Amelie had felt strange, she had felt electric, waltzing with the princess, their intertwined fingers had her veins pulsing and their eyes locked in desire, Amelie was in a state of shock, but she let reader sway her away anyway, no one had ever made her heart race, her skin tingling intensely like this before, and the world around them had faded into a lovely memory.

Amelie went to her chambers with a new feeling fluttering her stomach and her heart beating rapidly, the adrenaline rushing through her body, it’s safe to say she wasn’t able to sleep. Now that Amelie had earned the honour of becoming the princess’s favourite maid, she’d been in charge of most duties that included meeting her. She would shower and dress her up more frequently, they’re more alone now. One day Amelie was giving the princess a bath, she was scrubbing her back while the princess sat down, and Amelie thought she’s going insane. She had this thought, she was obsessed with it, this thought reoccurred whenever she saw the princess, it consumed her. But Amelie clenched her jaw with a dry throat and held back.

Amelie is dressing up reader and she is buttoning up her collar. The princess was looking at her intensely, but alas Amelie ignored those tempting looks, that one obsessive thought had reappeared once again. She moved to her wrist’s hem and fixed that too, suddenly reader held her hands- “look at me” she said, Amelie stayed silent and stood still for a moment before continuing fixing reader’s attire.

The princess held her hands tighter, but not to the point of pain “I order you to look at me, Amelie” she ordered, Amelie looked at the princess in hesitation, reader didn’t say much- as a matter of fact, she didn’t say anything, she just looked at Amelie in admiration, the princess appeared as though she’s waiting for Amelie, and Amelie fails to discover what she’s missing, she stayed silent and looked down instead, cherry red faced, she fixed the other hem. Another maid knocked the door, the princess allowed her in and the maid entered the room and did her duties, “saved by the bell” the princess whispered.

Reader and Amelie keep on playing these games, the princess would chase after Amelie, and Amelie always finds a reason to be needed somewhere else, even though she really isn’t. Although these games seemed endless, the princess was still amused, she felt content whenever Amelie came by, for a short while at least, for her parents made her life a living hell, ironically enough.

After a while, Amelie and reader have been getting in more and more risky situations, they haven’t kissed though- not yet, Amelie had thought about her parents and her revenge over and over again, although the princess is making it really difficult for her but she can’t seem to forget about revenge. And though it will be a tough decision, the plan will go through, she told herself. Nevertheless, stolen kisses on the hand and cheek and fingers linking have been exchanged still, Amelie felt as if she had 2 different people residing within her body, “kill her” says one side “forget about the mission” says the other.

–

One day, Amelie was hanging clothes in the castle hills, out in the open spring breeze, it was sunny and cloudy, the weather was nice and greenery surrounded the area. In the corner of her eye, she noticed an army coming up close, she discovered it’s the royal army, they were training and were being led by their commander, the commander looks very familiar though… the commander looks like they’re coming closer and closer, Amelie looked closely and- “oh my” she gasps softly, is that the princess?? She wondered in awe, she had no idea the princess was a trained professional royal army commander. And it was indeed the princess, reader stole Amelie for a little while, out of the army’s sight and the walls' ears.

Reader and Amelie sat by the pond- their recent shared secret place, and reader smiled brightly at Amelie, she’d been hiding something behind her back for a while now, Amelie smiled back “what is it” she giggled. The princess finally showed what she hid, it was a bouquet of roses. Safe to say Amelie was astonished, “how did you know?” She asked “you look like the type” smiled reader, Amelie brought the roses close to her to smell them “they’re amazing… really, thank you” she looked dazed “no one has ever gifted me roses before” she confessed, “well…” the princess said gently, “I’m glad I’m your first…” she whispered. At that moment, Amelie was swimming in her own conflicting thoughts.

She felt feverish, for the princess was reaching closer, and closer towards her face, both of them stare at each other’s lips. Amelie swallowed, the obsessive thought recurred again, god I want to kiss her, Amelie thought in desperation. Amelie felt dizzy, screw it, she thought and went in for the kiss, she truly felt at the top of world, nothing else matters, she immersed herself with the electricity she felt pulsing through her veins and utmost joy and warmth. Reader lied on the grass and Amelie hovered over her, they locked hands and continued kissing.

–

The princess and Amelie keep stealing kisses in secret, sometimes they get close to getting caught but they quickly act as if they were doing their duties, and laugh away after the eyes are gone and resume kissing, they can’t let go of each other’s lips.

They spend so much time at their spot near the pond. The place is perfect for both of them, so they planted roses all around and after a short while they had a field of roses, Amelie and the princess absolutely loved it. It was their safe space. But of course eventually they have to part ways and get back to their duties.

–

One night, they had snuck out into the city, with a help of Louie, the city was bustling with people,they had tried out all kinds of local food at a popular market, there was this popular bakery the city loved, it really was worth it’s popularity, they loved the pastries, especially the custard ones. And then they parted ways within the area of the market, Amelie had bought peonies for reader, and when they reunited, they discovered they both bought each other gifts, they count to three and to their surprise, they both had bought peonies for each other, reader and Amelie had giggled and laughed in absolute joy and leaned on each other from how hard they’d laughed.

Later on, the princess and Amelie are following Louie per his request, “i have a surprise for you two” he smiled gently at them, and they were getting closer and closer to the forests and the river nearby. There was a boat, it’s filled with various beautiful flowers. Although the boat looked a tad old, it was firm, Louie had made sure of that.

Louie told them he would be waiting for them to bring them back safely, and they got on that boat and paddled to the centre of the river. On the way there, they had splashed each other playfully, their laughs echoed through silent dark forests.

After their laughter fit, they fell quiet, they stared at the stars, reader took her eyes off the sky and turned to her lover, Amelie’s eyes glittered, she looked a little frightened. “What’s troubling you love?” Asked the princess worriedly, Amelie clasps both her hands tightly while looking at the body of water that shimmered, reader held Amelie’s hands and caressed them gently, her hands were cold, pleasantly cold, Amelie thought.

Amelie stays silent for a moment, she finally mustered up the courage to say what she’d been hiding for so long, “it’s okay darling..” said reader kissing her hands, Amelie sighed “I have wanted- I’ve wanted to say something for months now” she uttered, reader smiled at her reassuring her that it was okay, whatever Amelie was going to say, she’s completely ready to hear.

Amelie then gradually went on a rambling fit about how she was sent here for one thing and one thing only, assassinate her. And by the end of it her hands started shaking, her eyes pouring tears, reader didn’t say anything for the moment, instead, she held Amelie close, she.. hugged her? Amelie thought she would have thrown her off the boat as soon as she heard her confession, but she didn’t. The princess took Amelie’s hands off her face, Amelie was still shaking, her head held low, she couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“My love,” reader said, “had you killed me, I would’ve been freed from two things, my pointless, miserable life and imprisonment.. this life, it was not made for me, my dear. So do not cry, your tears are far too precious, if anything, you’ve saved me, you set me free”. Reader said holding Amelie’s face, Amelie was in a state of mixed emotions, she felt terribly bad that the princess felt that way towards her life, after all, she was nothing but a ball of happiness whenever they’re together, but she was also glad her lover doesn’t hate her. Reader peppered Amelie with kisses all over and they giggled for a bit, bitter sweetly. Amelie shifted to look directly at the princess again “ Mon cher.. je t'aime” she whispered, reader shone brightly, “so do i”. And for the first time ever, she actually felt there was more to life, more precious, than avenging her parents’ death.

–

One night, the princess and Amelie had snuck out and held hands on their way to the pond. There was a pleasant breeze, along with a light drizzle, it was lovely. It was one of the only times where they could truly have complete freedom and not worry about any passer-bys. They lied down on the grass and talked, talked and talked, about everything nothing, about how Amelie’s family were killed, about her plan on avenging them, and about reader’s parents, their verbal abuse,and how she wished she wasn’t born into royalty, they both let out everything heavy out of their chests, they also talked about their lives are so much brighter now that they’re together, how their lives had a purpose now, a proper one. And then they finally came to talk about the idea of running away together. Reader spoke of it first as an unrealistic but really nice thought.

“What if- what if we actually did?” asked Amelie, genuinely, reader laughed “oh you're serious?” her laugh stopped, Amelie nodded, “I don’t think that’s possible dear” she muttered “but why not?” asked Amelie, she situated her body so that she looked at reader’s eyes, she elaborated by asking her if she really wants to live the rest of her life like this, not only are her parents abusive, but she’s going to be the ruler of this kingdom for the rest of her life, and they both know she absolutely hated the whole idea of it, all reader wanted was to live in a cottage and possibly own a small farm or garden near a river, she talked about how she wished to never have been born into a royal family where she had to inherit the crown and be queen, because society and her parents force her to. And Amelie loved the idea of living in a cottage, it sounded so.. Domestic, something she’d pour her whole heart into building, have a cat or two even.. It sounded so nice.

But alas reader was still against the idea, she told her she still had a kingdom and people to rule in the near future, Amelie asked her what would happen in their future, are they going to have to hide behind trees and sneak out just to meet? Reader was left speechless, she hadn’t thought of their relationship that far ahead yet. Amelie had left their spot without a word, and the princess sat still, both held glossy eyes, one with a frown and the other with a sorrowful face.

They spent the next few days not talking, Amelie still had to do her usual duties with the princess, Amelie’s mannerisms had turned so very cold, it reminded reader of how she acted when they first met. She didn’t like that look. But it will sort itself out, reader thought wishfully.

By the end of the day Amelie was dismissed of her duties for the night, she closed the princess’s chamber doors, but she suddenly heard a loud cry, terror took over Amelie’s face, she rapidly opened the doors, she saw red, she hurried to her side “how did this happen??” Amelie panicked, she grabbed a towel and pressed on the wound, “the mirror fell on me” she uttered, reader was sweating, pain filling her voice “it’s nothing though, really” she assured her, “your majesty- you’re bleeding heavily it’s not-” Amelie spoke, but she was cut off by reader “do not call me that.” her face hardened. Amelie was taken aback, but continued tending to the princess’s injury, “I can't leave you bleeding.” is all she mumbled.

Amelie’s attempt at tending to reader’s wound was a success, she was trained in that area, Amelie was thankful it came handy when it counted, she clenched her jaw, she didn’t mean to make her feel the way she did- when she called her that title, even though they weren’t speaking anymore. A few months pass, they’re still not talking, Amelie didn’t even know what she was doing here, she felt miserable. She thought about ditching the place once and for all, yeah that sounds like a good idea…

–

A few days had gone by, the king and queen had hosted yet another annual ball, she heard gossip from the other servants about reader getting engaged soon, Amelie’s eyes widened in disbelief, her heart shattered hearing those words, hands shaking in pure anger and sadness. She had decided she’s going to stay for a little while, she wanted to hear it from the princess herself.

The awaited, dreadful time came, Amelie stayed quiet for the longest while, and then finally, finally, reader uttered her first words in a while to Amelie about something not regarding her duties, “have you heard about the engagement..?” she asked and Amelie turned to stone for a moment, then continued tidying the princess’s ball gown “so it’s true then” she stated, testing the waters, deep down Amelie had truly wanted her to deny this but her own desperate thoughts were cut off when reader answered her “yes it is”. Amelie smiled fiercely, she went behind reader to fix her corset, “well, i wish you a happy life”.

Amelie had finished with the ball gown, she was about to leave- “wait!” exclaimed reader “I still need a few things tidied in my chambers” she ordered. What's strange is that her room was already tidy and clean, and Amelie couldn’t do anything but obey, but really, she wanted to stay, just a little while longer.

The ball had started, the guests had arrived, and reader was dancing with the princes, who all seemed to have the same damn face, and although reader’s face was gloomy, she shined as bright as the sun in the midst of all the swarming other guests in Amelie’s eyes. She stared at her previous lover in admiration and dismalness at the same time, it reminded her of the time when they danced under the moonlight, it was truly an ecstatic night.

The prince reader was dancing with had asked her about her worries, and reader smiled at him fakely, “I'm just thinking, I apologise”. And in the corner of the princess’s eye, she spots Amelie, and suddenly, it all dawned on her, she had realised- she does not want to do this. But then Amelie left in a hurry, and reader followed her suit. She didn’t care about anything else, she sprinted after her with a tunnel vision. It’s not too late yet, she thought.

“Amelie wait!” she yelled, “i can’t do this anymore, reader. I’m leaving tonight.” She stated “I want to go with you.” the princess said firmly, shock clouded Amelie’s features, “but.. What about your kingdom? You would leave your people behind?” then reader replied with conviction “I’ve been living up to others’ expectations for far too long. I want to live for myself, even if it means i will have to face the unknown”, Amelie looked at her, warningly “it won’t be easy you know. We’ll have to build a new life from scratch” reader nodded “I’d rather start a new life with you than continue here, I want to live, and that won’t happen as long as i stay here, Amelie”, Amelie doesn’t waste a second and takes reader’s hands and kissed her lovingly and quickly, reader chuckled with teary eyes “c’mon we don’t have time” she giggled, and then they finally do it, they finally ran away together.

Epilogue

A couple of years go by, Amelie and reader had settled in a cottage, having both a small garden and a farm full of chickens, and they owned 3 cats, they also had a little shop in the village they live nearby that thrived, far far away from the city they originally came from, Louie was their neighbour, he got married and has 2 adorable toddlers and they would visit each other often, their lives couldn’t have been more perfect.

One day Amelie heard word of her gang, Louie had visited their old town for some unfinished business and told her it was the only thing their old town talked of, every single member of the gang were beheaded for “kidnapping the princess”. Amelie ran to tell reader the good news, they hugged each other tightly and cried in each other’s arms, they had truly felt blissful and content.

#widowmaker #widowmaker x reader #amelie lacroix #royalty au #overwatch #overwatch 2 #wlw #wlw love #wlw sfw #overwatch widowmaker #overwatch 2 widowmaker #Spotify

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stickyspeckledlight · 1 month

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your fic is super amazing!!!! But kinda curious abt smthg: just how insane is the reader at the end?

Ahhh ty for the compliment and ask! I’m blown away by the reception to Onset like, a TON. Making me blush more than the man the myth the legend aventur—nah, who am I kidding, no one can make me blush more than Thomas the Tank engine (jk if that wasn’t clear. I won’t shame y’all if any of you are train fuckers, so dw train fuckers)

ahem, back on topic

Well, as per the fic, Onset!darling has, well,

So, yeah, they might have lost a screw or two.

ofc, it’s a bit more nuanced than just laughing a bunch or obsession. I sorta alluded to it with the ratio voice line with my recent uh, Drabble? Head canon? I’ll just say hypothetical voice lines fine. But Onset!darling is, and very critically, aware:

With ‘cotton,’ they could generally disassociate from the situation—but, as time went on and as they just got so, so tired, ‘cotton’ became a way for them to try and delay this insanity, and was their only real source of any kind of rationality in dealing with the situation. In other words, overtime, ‘cotton’ also became a tool of denial—which they were painful self aware of. Aventurine was right, he may have been the one to light the spark, but it was ultimately Onset!darling who gave themselves the final push off the deep end because of how much they spiral. so, post confession and embracing themselves as two sides of the same coin to Aven, they still have that awareness. In a sense, they are still You…but they are really ‘you,’ ifykyk. They feel sorry about what happened to You, but it’s like, “damn, bro. That blows.” Kinda the same way you say to an acquaintance you don’t dislike, but don’t really know all too well when they tell you about something unfortunate happening to them. At times they will mourn what happened to You, because they know that how they are right now isn’t healthy or good and is the result of a very selfish man’s desire. But. They are content and happy with that very same man. Obsessed with him like he is with them. Simply put, they don’t care about You as themselves, but rather as like another person, sort of like a friend. But Onset!darling is especially selfish in the present, so even if they have moments where they mourn the death of an innocent, they have no problems with continuing on and being content and happy with their current situation.

It’s something I want to explore more with some subsequent stuff (because brain rot go brrrr).

Oh yeah I think I’ll create a new tag for my fic, since I still wanna explore it: Destroyed Onset. I am so good at this

#Speckled answers #Destroyed Onset

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soultek · 1 year

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A Hundred Years - A One-Shot [Aliens AU]

Author’s Note: So, this one is for my fellow Bishop Girlies! @mandy23b - Happy 4th Friend-Versay! (You’re for sure stuck with me now!)

@sufferthesea because 1) Happy (belated) Birthday! and 2) because it was your lyric choice and so I had to make it Bishop, obviously! I thought you’d enjoy 😉

Love you both TONS! 💙

Amanda, I know OC fic isn’t your preference, but, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Please note there are some weird AF paragraph gaps in this that I just can’t get to work nicely... so I apologise in advance 🙏

Warnings: Some swearing / Depressive spiraling / sex reference and innuendo / He might be *slightly* OOC... please judge this for yourself, I tried my best!

Premise: From this fun little request post. There’s engineering work to do, and Rex is spiraling. Despite Bishop’s valiant attempts to stop this from happening, it seems more like a delay. Sure, it started off as a joke - but now she’s really thinking on the fact that for the next 100 years he can upgrade himself and she... can’t. Not without drastic medical advancement. Sometimes it’s not about living for the future, but in the moment...

Words: 6965

--- Lyric Chosen ---

“A hundred years wouldn't be long enough” ~ Mean It This Time, Carly Pearce

---

It started, as it always did, with a game of chess. Although, by this point in their down time, the game had been practically forgotten in favour of general chat and gossip. The pieces used more as something to occupy hands – with the rules of the game being broken left, right and centre, as they were moved across the board with no particular destination. Travelling between planets on shorter journeys meant no need for Cryo, but right now Hicks would be glad of it, because he was bored out of his mind. So bored that really he lacked the concentration for a serious game of chess – and his feigned attempts at trying had quickly made Rex lose interest in playing any better. She had been the one to initially distract him with small talk and now the board was an absolute mess.

Though, being stuck together on a ship – and being close friends – meant really there was little to talk about beyond rumour and speculation. Or whatever bets the other crew members had going on this week. Hicks sank all the way down to the table, head resting on his crossed arms. She raised her eyebrows at him, “You know at this point you might as well go back to bed, huh?” “Ah, would that I could Rex… you know the second I do, something will actually happen.” “Well at least it will be worth it for the rest of us!” She tipped the rook she was messing with a little too far and it clattered off the board and rolled across the table, Hicks stretched his palm out to stop it, but even this was half hearted. “This is the most down down time ever.” “Then go find someone to mess around with.” “You’re the most fun to mess around with – suggesting chess was a screw up on my part.” Rexanna leant on her knuckles, eyebrow quirked. She tipped her head, and as she did so loose curls of dark hair fell into her face; regretting her change of position, she blew them out of the way. Maybe she should have tied it back today. “I noticed. And to think I could have kept going for an easy victory!” She looked back to the board – no point now with the state it was in. If they wanted to keep playing, they’d have to reset the whole thing. “But I’ll take the compliment that I think that was.” Hicks raised his head, but not by much, “It’s official, I’ve never been this bored in my life.” “Sorry, I didn’t realise you turned into Hudson on this trip-!” Rex folded her arms, looking away from him nonchalantly. That soon got her best friend sitting up. “You did not.” “Didn’t what?” “I KNOW I didn’t hear you say that-!” She grinned, “Well, if you’re gonna complain I don’t know what you expect me to say!” He leaned across the table, “You are SO lucky I like you!” “Or what?” Rex couldn’t help grin wider, teasing, before he smacked both her shoulders, “OW! Geez, Hicks, you’re a lot bigger than me!” She tried to lunge back across the table, but he had leaned out of reach. Now they were both laughing, and though she was rubbing her right shoulder, Rex wasn’t actually hurting. “Hey, you could always do work!” She suggested; that was always the easiest way to increase any kind of productivity, and on a ship this big, there was always something to do. “Uh, no thank you.” He waved that one away – seeming to suggest that in honesty, the only reason he was sitting across from her now was to avoid working. Fair enough. Hicks swung his right leg up onto the bench beside him, now apparently interested in his combat boots, “Never known you to throw a game of chess.” Her eyes flicked back to the pieces in annoyance, “I didn’t, but you weren’t really taking it seriously so there was no point. There’s nothing in an easy victory.” Hicks was right though; it was her favourite game. From the “CHQ MVIII” on her armour, which had now also been transferred to a tattoo just below her right collarbone, always obscured by her blue flight suit. (Which she’d now become partial to wearing when not in combat, for both comfort and the practicality of ad hoc engineering around the ship. Not to get too ‘matchy-matchy’ with her significant other!) To the chess piece around her neck… it was pretty much how her whole relationship had started… “I dunno, I figure distracting you once or twice has given me easy victories.” Rex’s eyes narrowed, “And you think I’ve forgiven you for that!?!” “Well if I can beat you then I figure you’re not really the best on the ship.” This time instead of leaning across to hit him, Rexanna grabbed the piece nearest to her and threw it at him, “Shut up!” Hicks merely laughed, “Have any of the newbies beaten you yet?” “No!” She was clearly falling for his teasing at the way her voice was pitching - damn him! “I better teach ‘em that all you gotta do is mention-” “And how is that gonna work now, jackass!” She picked up another piece, “Don’t make me throw another at you!” His laugh turned into a full-blown cackle before he calmed a little – smile still mischievous as he looked to her. “Frost, Spunkmeyer and Wierzbowski still got that stupid bet on how long it’s going to take anyone to figure out your relationship?” “I still think they should have had bets on the newbies thinking it’s us, but that’s just me.” Rex gave a shrug, “I think so. It’s not out there… it’s not hidden. It just is. Some of them know, I’m surprised they haven’t told the others… unless they’re getting hush money!” Hicks picked up one of his bishops and studied it with interest, “They do seem to keep thinking we’re a thing.” “You’re not exactly pointing out that you have a girlfriend, are you.” “Well I think I’d much rather be out in space with her than you, but that’s just me.” Rex folded her arms, squinting and mouth open, but didn’t even rise to it, “You wouldn’t be out here without me Hicks and you know it.” “Utterly lost!” He grinned and put the piece back down. Before his smile faded a little as he looked curiously behind her, “Ooop! Your man is here to pick you up.”

Rex twisted around in her seat, and sure enough now standing in the doorway of the mess hall was Bishop. She tried not to immediately beam about it – but knew this only meant one thing. Mother had picked up a few knocks here and there with some of the ship’s internals and although not serious, they needed fixing. Rex had been putting it off until they had enough down time and no other work to do… apparently that time had come. She offered a wave, before indicating that she’d be two minutes. He nodded politely, before she turned back to Hicks. “Yeah, guess I now have work to do!” “Aw man, you jinxed it!” Her best friend appeared momentarily sympathetic before his eyes narrowed, “Work? With Bishop? C’mon Rex, where are you really going? I know it ain’t work!” “Do you want a functioning ship or not? We’ve been putting this fix off for weeks!” “Yeah, uh huh, sure!” Hicks raised his eyebrows at her to indicate he believed otherwise, “Have fun getting your fix.” Rex hated that she could feel her cheeks heating, “Screw you!” “Sounds like that’s what’s gonna happen to you, honey.” “If I wasn’t so scared for my life of what Ripley would do to me once we got back, I’d kill you.” Hicks grinned a little wider, “That’s my girl! Also, if we’re being honest, as you can’t survive without me, you’d be throwing yourself out an airlock far before that.” Point noted – but Rexanna wouldn’t say it out loud. She pulled her feet out from under the bench and made a motion to stand, but Hicks was intent on keeping her there as long as possible – now studying more chess pieces. “Hey, didn’t you play against his creator, once?” She was glad for a moment she hadn’t mentally checked out of the conversation already, or she might have taken a while to pick up the train of thought going on here. Hicks was referring to Bishop’s designer and the lead engineer on the 341-B project. “Michael? Yeaaah, what about it?” “Didn’t you win?” Rex wondered if he was being facetious. “No.” “No?!” Hicks genuinely looked surprised when he looked up, “I thought you got what you wanted?” “I did get what I played him for…” essentially the agreement that once Bishop became an ‘obsolete’ model in Wey-Yu’s eyes, and especially in the eyes of their USCM missions, instead of being deactivated he would become completely Rex’s responsibility. She expected Android law to have progressed by then, but, until such a time, if this protected him it was the least she could do. “…I didn’t win.” “Fair enough. I won’t bring up any more of your losses, I was trying to big you up.” Rex scoffed, “Against a multiple time world chess champion? Try again – remind me of all the times I beat Hudson,” she leaned in, giving her hands purchase to push herself back and away from the table, “or you!” Hicks laughed again, “No chance!” Rex stepped back a few paces, grinning at her best friend, “Alright, I gotta go – enjoy your single life on the ship, Hicks!” “Yeah well, at least I don’t have to hide away any time I want some action and pretend I’m working-!” This time Rexanna laughed, winking at him before turning, “You’re just jealous!” She held a hand up in a wave goodbye, “See ya!”

Bishop was leaning against the wall outside as she rounded the corner; amused by her friends jabs as much as anything else. She’d get him back later. “Rexanna…” “Sorry-! To be honest I’m not sure if that conversation was worth finishing. But I’m good now… this is about the fix we’ve been putting off right?” “Yes.” He regarded her steadily, “This is… about work.” Catching on, she flicked her eyes back in the direction she’d come from, “Y- Yes, I know.” “Didn’t seem that’s what you and Hicks were talking about.” She very nearly snorted, “I think he was joking with me, but that isn’t what I was expecting anyway. I knew this had to be done… down time comes after, that’s okay with me!” She beamed, walking in step with him, offering a wink that was only met with a look of mild disapproval.

***

They were so close as they walked towards the source of the issue that they found hands and arms almost constantly brushing – pretty soon causing their fingers to entwine. They didn’t let go at any point after that, including as they had to descend several flights of stairs – instead Bishop would walk first in order to keep her steady. Like a gentleman (as he so often was). Sometimes he made Rex wonder why anyone would rather be with a human male – honestly just one mission with any of the guys she’d been posted with would likely put you off for life. Except maybe Hicks – but of course she’d make that exception for her best friend. Even when they came across others in corridors the connection between them was never severed, even if it meant side stepping or doing some more awkward single file walking.

They’d been together a while by now, but any situation like this always made something spark within Rexanna – she never knew if it was excitement or dread, but it was definitely anticipation of what would happen. What would their reaction be; what would his reaction be. So often before she’d unconsciously worried that he would drop her hand at the slightest sign of conflict or disapproval. Which took to Rex holding him just that little bit tighter every time they came to that impasse. Bishop picked this up so quickly that at this point the only way Rex was going to make him let go was if she dropped his hand first. On the ship where most people knew, she was much more relaxed about it; and with any of the first-time fliers, Rex was ranked high enough that staring them down would get them to drop any look of uncertainty.

Eventually she realised they had got this far without much conversation. Normally that would have been fine; they both knew exactly the issue to fix here and silence was always comfortable between them. In all honesty when she had to spend the majority of her day giving orders to the other engineers or fighting her way through marine banter, returning to a comfortable silence with Bishop was heaven. Everything else was simply exhausting. They didn’t really need words to know how each other was feeling. He could simply hold his arms out for her and that would be enough.

Yet, Rexanna hadn’t seen him all morning – and right now it was like she was neglecting to ask about his day. She turned, “Hey, I thought you’d come and collect me earlier. You weren’t around when I woke up, but considering I had no other work to do, I thought you might leave me a note or something to meet you down here…!” “Oh.” Bishop smiled, “No, I had to run some diagnostics. Still got a few to finish later, you can help, if you like?” “On yourself? Sure… You okay?” “I’m fine – it’s just routine.” He gave a shrug, “Then I thought we ought to be getting on with this before it got too late.” Rex could agree with that, “Routine? You sure?” Ever since she’d found those weird lines of three-laws-defying code in him that he kept rewriting, she had to admit there was a certain level of paranoia that Wey-Yu would find some way of wiping them out of him. “Well…” She didn’t like the pause, this time stopping their walk to actively stare at him. She loosened her fingers from Bishop’s – as if to emphasise the importance of his next answer. “…It’s just upgrades, Ree, you don’t need to worry. I promise. But there are some data chip changes I need to do.” His voice was so gentle with that particular use of her name that she believed him instantly. But she had other issues, chewing her lip momentarily and looking away from the weight of his own stare. Even now sometimes she couldn’t hold those eyes of his. Truth was, she might have got his promise – might even have been given a written contract with a signature… but she didn’t trust Michael and the company one bit. What annoyed Rex most was she didn’t have a choice.

Instead, she made something more like a joke of the situation, continuing their walk. “In 100 years I'll be nothing but dust, and you'll still be walking around upgrading yourself!” Bishop’s response was to chuckle, and she smiled just to hear him laugh, “You don't know that! There could be many medical advancements between now and then.” Funnily enough he said it with every ounce of seriousness, so it was Rexanna’s turn to laugh, “Well they better hurry the hell up or I'll be too old! By that point they better put my brain in an android!” She didn’t know if she were joking or not, but Bishop looked across to her, then looked away with a little smile. “That... would be agreeable.” Rex shook her head, before nudging him playfully with her shoulder; “Yeah, I bet!” She was smiling, and her joke was meant to be throw away… then suddenly she found herself really thinking on it. Her smile faded.

Not due to unhappiness but curiosity – every now and then this was something Rex would think on. There were a lot of things she couldn’t give Bishop that an android partner could. They would be able to understand a lot of mechanical grievances; and that never ending fight for better rights. He was an Equal Opportunity Advisor for the USCM after all. Rex could live her life blissfully and never come into contact with any of that. She tried to be an active ally, for obvious reasons – but did she really give him the support he wanted… or needed? She couldn’t help but voice it: “Would you… like that?” “Like what?” She got the feeling Bishop knew, but wanted her to voice the question anyway. “If I was in an androids’ body instead of mine?” If it was still her just less flesh and bone and more circuit boards and circulation fluid. “I mean would that even be the same to you?” Bishop suddenly frowned so hard that Rexanna thought he might have malfunctioned – this time she held his stare just because of how disbelieving it was; and she was starting to feel like she’d asked something wrong. Her lips parted to say something, anything at this point that would get that look off his face. Bishop spoke first. “No.” There was a hanging silence again, Rex blinked. “S-Sorry, to which part?” “All of it. Why would I want that?” “Well, like I say… my life is so finite. As long as you have a way to keep upgrading… I’ll be long gone by the time anything happens to you. If I was an android I could… be around for so much longer.” He stepped a little closer to her, “Rex.” It was too late; she was spiralling, “I don’t know, maybe that’d be better for you. My life won’t be long enough for either of us – even with the wonders of tech, and you’ll outlive me for so long!” Would he be able to go on without her? Did Rex really want the answer to that question? “Rexanna. Ree. Don’t do that. Stop.” He took her hands back in his, but, as she kept talking Bishop moved his hands to her arms, pulling her closer before placing his forehead gently to hers. “Hey.” Silence again, except she could hear the pounding of her heart inside her head. Brown eyes wide as they looked between his. “You wouldn’t be you. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.” Snaking his left hand down her right arm he traced Rex’s tattoo – a swirl of stars and nebulae - before interlinking their fingers, “You don’t think the reason you are so complex and so… human is part of the reason I fell for you?” She wasn’t really one for blushing, but Rex knew she was getting hot – and he was giving her very little room. Even now Bishop still had troubles with personal space. If Rex backed up, she knew she was about to hit the steel wall of the ship. She tried to look anywhere but his eyes, searching for something to say and stammering. What exactly was she supposed to say to that. In reality, Bishop wasn’t expecting her to return the favour. And she noticed that his right hand was now clasped around her other wrist, fingers pressing against her pulse point – as if to really hammer what he was saying home. Duly noted.

Though he’d have to remind her, again and again and again…

To break what for her was fast becoming too awkward of a pause, Rex deflected with humour, as her group of marines so often did. “Aw man, and here I thought it was for my stellar good looks!” She made sure her grin was extra cheesy. Bishop’s laugh was almost painful, but his look softened. “Well… perhaps a little of that too.” At least she was giggling and not spiralling; he could cope with that – as apparently this was so funny to her, she ended up collapsing into his shoulder, hiding her face in his flight suit. Or, perhaps Rex was hiding for different reasons… He watched her for a moment, shaking his head, before taking a deep – and unnecessary – breath. “Okay, Ms. Mori. We have a computer to fix. Let’s go.”

Ah, her last name? Now she was in trouble… ***

Rex had fixed plenty of systems like this before - but never in a room that looked quite so compact. Usually equipment like this was afforded areas that were wider, looking a little like rows of servers. For some reason on this ship, they had decided to place it in a cramped space; meaning instead of having rows of modules with gaps in between, they were all stacked on top of each other and screwed into the walls. Not only that, but it must have been stuffed into a tight angled part of the ship - given that the ceiling was an unusual hexagonal shape that seemed to cave in on itself. And there were modules screwed into that too. The saving grace was it was brightly lit. Unsurprisingly, everything they had to fix was up there. Both because a) of course it wasn’t on the floor, and b) it was most likely the weird angles that were causing issues. Rex swivelled in place to Bishop, eyebrow raised, pointing a finger to the ceiling; “Guess we’re climbing?” “Mhm.” He affirmed, before giving her an equally disbelieving look, “You think they’d design this a bit better though.” “Hopefully we fix it well enough for this to be the one time it comes up, but I foresee further issues..!” “Fixing it once in almost 2 years?” Bishop admired that hope and optimism, “I doubt it.” “Yeah,” Rexanna sighed gently, “me too.”

On the far wall, it seemed that the company were quite prepared for engineers to fix any faults in this room; a storage locker conveniently labelled “tools” (as if they wouldn’t have bought their own? Well… at least Bishop had remembered to!) and several cables and harnesses tied neatly together that ran all the way to sturdy looking hooks in the ceiling. At least they’d assist in climbing: but what an effort! Rex puffed out her cheeks with an eye roll; this was going to be a long day.

Before she hooked herself up to ascend though… Rex patted down the pockets of her flight suit, wait… She cursed herself for a moment; surely she didn’t forget them!? Usually she had at least one in a pocket somewhere!! Bishop cleared his throat, and as Rex looked to him she realised he’d known exactly what she was looking for - extending his hand out with a hair tie. “And that’s why I love you.” She took it from him gratefully pulling her dark hair up into it, before smiling, with a gentle, “thank you.” That didn’t perturb him from his joke, though. “Thought it’d be for much more than that.” Bishop bumped his arm against hers as he passed, ready to set himself up for the climb. Rex couldn’t help snorting; “You mean your good looks, right?!” Although he wasn’t facing her, she could hear that smile in his voice. “Something like that.”

It didn’t take them long to attach the harnesses and ropes. Luckily they wouldn’t need to also pull a tool box up with them, as the harnesses came with handy tool belts; and anything they couldn’t fit in there was transferred into flight suit pockets. In reality, it wasn’t necessarily so much of a climb, but having to pull yourself up to the level you wanted. Not so bad for him, she supposed, but an arduous task when this whole fix would require you using your arms. There must have been an easier way to do it…?

Rex thought hard, staring at the rope in her hands for a long time. Either she’d missed something Bishop had said or he was just being extra patient with her, because he hadn’t moved to start either. Staring intently in silence and waiting for her to say whatever she was thinking. And then it clicked. “Oh my god…” she said softly, before laughing, “of course!” Seemingly Bishop knew she was about to say something typically Rex by the subsequent look on his face. “Mother, could you please disengage the artificial gravity in this room?”

There was a beat with no noise. Rex wasn’t even sure if she expected Mother to answer them. Sometimes Mother liked to remain silent when working on things and sometimes she could be overly… motherly.

Her eyes flicked across to Bishop’s as if to tell him it was at least worth a shot; but as Rexanna did so she noticed her clothes begin to rise, followed by her dog tags; escaping her flight suit and threatening to send the chess piece attached (a Bishop, what else?) sailing to the ceiling if she didn’t keep hold of it. Before long, her feet were hovering off the floor as it really kicked in. That unsteady moment when Rex was never sure if she’d remain floating or suddenly crash back down in a heap. The latter had happened many a time - especially when people weren’t expecting it! Luckily the Zero-G held and they found themselves free floating to the top of the room where the work was needed. This time the ropes served as anchors to make sure that they weren’t drifting off away from where they were meant to be. Hopefully no one would decide to check on them, or they were in for a nasty shock. Else the gravity would reengage and Rex would find herself with angry red marks where her harness caught her sudden weight in quite a large fall.

It would be no good doing this if you were afraid of heights.

The lack of gravity worked wonders; they could effectively “swim” to exactly where they were needed. That would save them some energy; or, maybe a couple of percent on having to recharge later. Though Rex couldn’t help but look over to Bishop for approval. He could tell, of course, so he made her wait for it. Luckily this time his stare included a blink or two. “Well I wasn’t going to say it until it worked - but that is a pretty efficient idea, yes.” Rex couldn’t help but give a little wiggle of a happy dance at this - Bishop just shook his head at her. Sometimes she could get so happy at the tiniest of things. She was still a mystery to him by all accounts. But he liked that.

She held her tongue for the first few minutes of work - because she actually thought she’d miscalculated - if they needed to remove panels and screws, they risked them soaring off out of reach; and if they were very unlucky, either screws lost, or further damage created they didn’t need to fix. This fear was soon abated when Rexanna realised that everything stayed firmly locked in even once unscrewed. Even those screws had a limit and didn’t come fully out of the plates. The only thing she really need to keep an eye on was her data pad; making sure she was fixing and rewiring all the right parts, before moving onto the next one. They kept a back-and-forth dialogue to ensure everything was covered. And other than that, no small talk passed between them. They stuck to task. Professional. It was probably the main reason they were allowed to go on so many of these colonisation - or ATMOS - missions together. Because work was work; and the relationship came after or between those moments. They knew how to keep things separate. So separate that there were still several newer marines that, even about a year or so into this one, hadn’t figured it out yet. They probably worked better together than most science and engineering teams in the entire Wey-Yu USCM roster. And, in this strictly professional way, they scaled themselves across their entire engineering fix.

***

After screwing her last panel into place Rexanna glanced over her shoulder. Bishop was studying the data pad - having long since finished his section (of course, he had precision and efficiency she didn’t). This would at least tell him if all systems were back to functioning. She waited… and waited… He looked up slowly, almost as if he didn’t know she was looking for the green light. “We’ll probably have to test it. But I would say everything looks nominal here.” He jabbed the pad with his index finger, “we at least fixed everything on the list.”

This was good enough for Rex! Who punched the air. They’d been up here a few hours at least; it had been more work than she initially expected. And they were working in Zero-G; not as easy as she’d hoped. Speaking of… now she was up here, she had less clue of how exactly to get back to the floor… If she asked Mother to reengage the gravity that presented the “all my weight at once” problem of before - likely not a slow process… Though then they could just abseil down… easy!

Bishop watched Rexanna look down to the bottom - the expression of concentration on her face that showed how her thought patterns were figuring their way out of this. “You know,” he spoke up, “I have a system that can engage artificial gravity. I could just float us down to the ground again.” “What?!” Rex’s eyes widened, “You do! Well that saves me a lot of hard thought!” She grinned. He pressed his lips together, thinking, “I mean you have to get to me, but, I’m sure you can manage that.” “Pretty sure I’ve been through hell and back and almost died that one time to finally get to you, so… yeah. A lack of gravity is not going to stop me!” Without warning Rex pushed herself off the wall - it didn’t have quite the desired speed; but she let her rope out enough to sail across the expanse to him. He’d at least pushed himself out to just about the middle of the room by that point anyway.

Realising there was very little to slow herself down now except Bishop, Rexanna latched herself to him; legs tangling with his and clinging to his shoulders. “Uhhhh-! Not sure this is quite what I had in mind-!” He was busy trying to balance both to not send them careering into a wall - but he chuckled; voice teasing. “Funny, because I was.” Rex’s eyes narrowed “Huh?” “I got you over here. And that was the plan.” The silence of her disbelief really said everything, “… The extent of your plan was… Did you just lie to me!?” It took a while for Bishop’s smile to crack, but once it did Rex knew she had absolutely been played. “Well…” One hand fell to her hip; and it brought back memories of the first time he’d teased her, “it wasn’t the extent of my plan. No.” “Oh? What was then?” Because no matter what; they did have to get down. So, he better have a way!

His smile was gentle, and he pressed his forehead back to hers, as he had in the hallway to calm her. “This…” His deep voice lowered to something gentle, not quite a whisper. Bishop closed the gap between them, lips to hers. Rex’s eyes closed on contact, hands tangling in his flight suit as she pulled him a little closer, savouring that contact. He kept her steady in their free float – the hand not on her hip supporting her back; running in soothing circles. He pulled away ever so slightly; but that was another tease, because he knew Rexanna wasn’t going to let him get away with it, before she pulled him in for a deeper one. Oh yeah, this was way better than getting to the ground. Rex was getting to experience a Zero-G kiss! (And how many people could say that, in honesty!?)

***

The next time they really got a quiet moment together was late into the evening, after having to fend off a million comments when Hicks decided to loudly proclaim that the last thing they’d been doing for the past three hours was fixing the ships systems, and the entire table decided to join in. If Rex had hoped anything would go that way this evening, by the time she’d made it back to their room she was exhausted.

They had finally made it down from the precarious situation of turning the gravity back on by Bishop having Rexanna continue to wrap her body around his and taking the full force of gravity and her weight by himself. After she suggested that might hurt, he came back with the cheeky quip of, “I’m used to it.” …She rather thought it might be the other way around, but wouldn’t argue.

In fact by the time she’d had enough of her crew mates and declared she was turning in for the night - which earned numerous pretty crude jeers (and several people swift smacks to the back of the head; not least Hicks for causing all this) - Bishop was already back to the room and settled. On a ship that was somehow even bigger than the Sulaco had been, and on their third such mission, Rexanna and Bishop had been afforded their own room. Small, pretty cramped, and not really enough for two people in one space without some tricky navigation – but still, theirs. Which at this point sure beat bunking with every other marine she knew.

Bishop looked up as the door slid open, she stepped inside with a blown-out breath and a shake of her head. “That good, huh?” “Dinner was dinner – you know what it’s like… it’s everyone else.” A small smile, “Oh. I can imagine your best friend was at his most helpful.” Rexanna’s laugh was almost pained, “You got it.”

“As for dinner, I could have made you some myself, but…” Bishop indicated to the state of himself – ports open and skin pulled back in several places. She was surprised that there was no sign of white circulation fluid everywhere. “Oh shit,” she sounded surprised, “when you said upgrades…” “Oh yes.” He nodded, “The company sent along some new data chips, as I said, so I thought they were worth installing.” “Mhm.” But this many? Wow. Rex wondered momentarily if that shipment had anything to do with her – and then thought she was better off not knowing. She approached the side of the bed, sitting gently so as not to jostle him. Sensing she had no more to say than that, and would be content with watching him, Bishop went back to installing the little chips – clicking them into place. Absentmindedly Rex’s fingers went to her necklace, twisting around the chess piece, and then her dog tags. With both these things was a very old data chip of his from when he had previously been fixed up on a mission. Tech that had become obsolete almost as soon as it was made. It would just have been destroyed otherwise – but there was something about this piece that felt too real to Rex. And too surreal as well; being a previous part of his memory core.

She pushed herself across the bed to him as inconspicuously as possible, folding her legs under herself. He’d continue on as normal, of course. Bishop didn’t have that horrible feeling any human did of being watched – and certainly wasn’t one to make any mistakes because of it. Rexanna had a sudden realisation, while watching him. Well – maybe not a realisation, maybe just a resurfacing of something she’d known for a long time, but had kept pushing down. Something she’d almost reached with her spiral earlier before he’d stopped her. But it was so out in the open now that it was unavoidable. She placed her hand gently on Bishop’s free arm, sliding it slowly to entwine their fingers. Even now there was something Rex quite liked about the difference in their skin tones; it never failed to surprise her just how pale he was in contrast to the darker tanned complexion she had. Rexanna realised that beneath that fairly superficial surface (literally), she was just contemplating her own mortality. And, in a strange way, his too. Eventually there would be no more upgrades – he’d be an old, obsolete, discontinued model. To her that almost seemed a worse fate than death. Did he care about things like that? Did he even think about them? Even with whatever agreement she had with Michael Bishop now – which would save him from being scrapped completely – at some point technology would advance so much it just wouldn’t be compatible. She’d would fight long and hard to make sure this wouldn’t happen. But what about after her? How would he cope after that? She’d age and die but Bishop never would. He was a collection of data chips: metal and plastic... No. That was wrong to say. Even if the truth. He was as human as she was – she’d spent the better part of their first mission together relaying that information. There was no debate in her mind at all that he was alive. But…

Bishop paused his working, glancing up to Rex watching him. Although realising that she wasn’t really watching him anymore – he’d lost her again, inside the void of thoughts within her head. He wasn’t sure why today of all days she was going through it. He knew it happened from time to time, but Rexanna didn’t often get this bad. “Ree…” He prompted gently, sounding a little more curious to know her wavelength. He wanted to affirm at least where she was heading. Whether he could bring her back or not. Her expression was almost one of puzzlement too, as she traced her eyes along the inner workings that were still visible, and the small pile of chips he still had to install. “That’s your heart and soul... what makes you, you... without that you-” He cut her off, now very aware that he was correct. All Bishop had managed to do earlier was pause the journey, but it was clear that the ship had left the space station and wouldn’t be back until it’s travels were complete. “Yes, but, it can all be replaced, I mean you’re wearing one, and I’m still the same as I was.” As much as he had a point, that didn’t feel the same to her. Around her neck was a fix out of necessity – he wouldn’t be here without it. This seemed like compliance. For the hell of it. Because technology just would not slow down… She almost laughed. Really, Rexanna was wrong – it was just a different kind of necessity. And at the end of it all, something she couldn’t do. She’d joked about her mind in an android body earlier – but to a point, she was envious that he could just upgrade or fix himself like this. It all seemed too easy. “And I’m just human... I... I’m not gonna last like...” Rex gasped. Seemingly out of nowhere she pulled back from him, placing a hand over mouth, before tears spiked. Bishop was quick to spring into action; snapping everything closed – this could wait. “Hey, hey... No... stop... why are you crying? Don’t- don’t think like that!” “Shit-!” Rex said again from behind her hand, “It’s just so hard!” He pulled her closer, fingertips gently brushing the remnants of the first tears from her cheeks, “This isn’t even something you have to acknowledge for years. Why is it all coming up now?” “Because I do have to think about it…” Her voice strained as she tried to stop herself from really crying hard. “I can’t be in the marines and doing this forever. I’m limited. And even if I can still work somewhere… you’ll remain out here. And that’s just the start of it-!” “You’re not limited… And…” He took a deep breath, encouraging Rex to imitate it, in an attempt to help calm her. “You’re nowhere near that. If anything, at least Earth will be safe for you.” His smile was a little crooked, “I know people say you shouldn’t live in the past but… somehow, Rex, you’ve managed to do the complete opposite.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, you’re living in the far future. And, while I admit it’s always good to look to the future… something tells me I’ve been neglecting to tell you to live in the moment.” He made a face for a second as if trying to recall, searching the room as if it had answers, “Or… someone has.” Rexanna groaned gently, burying her face in his chest, making Bishop wind his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders soothingly as she sniffed, “I’m an idiot.” “No, you just let your mind go wandering a little too far sometimes…” He held her closer, pulling the warmth of her body flush to his, “We can think about our mortality and live like that, sure. But, the truth is, neither of us know how long we have, so we have to make the most of this time. That's what matters!” His head tipped, recalling something else he’d read, “Medical advancements are happening all the time. We probably have at least another 100 years. So, you don’t have to worry about anything for minimum the next 99.” She laughed, which is what he wanted, rubbing her eyes – before shaking her head disbelievingly. Bishop didn’t really care if Rex believed him or not, he just wanted that smile back on her face. “Even if I had a hundred years to love you it wouldn’t be long enough.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s something we can both agree on.”

---

Thank you for reading! 😚💙

#Bishop x OC #Aliens AU #I'm sorry but my favourite part of this entire fic is my space play on the phrase /the train has left the station/#I just.... that little bit made me so proud to come up with I can't even explain! haha!#For my Bishop girlies - you're real ones! <3 #Bishop Aliens #Linzi Writes #Happy Birthday Bee!!!#Happy Friend-Versary Amanda!#Hicks is best BFF #Of course I had to include chess!#Michael Bishop reference cuz it's his fault i'm in this mess / srs #Please tell me everyone read /No/ in his voice like in that scene in Aliens?#The lab one? You did?! Good!#He might be a little OOC? I don't know I really trieeeed!#Fun and Games references but nothing you'll need to read it for!

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hoperays-song · 9 months

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Gunter Babysits Review and Commentary

Time for the first shorts commentary! Is this an elaborate plan to distract me from my fic being with my beta reader? Yes! Am I using it for content? Welcome back to the madness!

(Shorts will be posted individually but only one part each. Sorry for the delay, some stuff for my school got bloody insane.)

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Jump scare Gunter within the first three seconds!

Is that a drawing of a human? It kinda looks like it. Probably isn't but looks like it.

Also, very curious to what's on this whiteboard.

All other phones in this series we see seem to be normal modern phones, so this was a choice by Gunter to have this one. Also, love the stickers and pig home button, it's really cute!

Awwwwww, he called himself uncle Gunter!!!!!!!!!

Rosita definitely designed this kitchen because the lights coming on slowly when off if you open the cabinet (to give your eyes time to adjust) is simply brilliant.

So we already saw inside this cabinet in Sing 1 and it had a ton of assorted stuff. Now, it is purely candy. This has to be like right after Halloween or something because why else would they have so much candy? Especially with really young kids.

... The horror movie music that starts playing here is correct. This is terrifying. Straight up. Just terrifying.

I worked as a babysitter and nanny for a bit... this is legit one of my worst nightmares. Gunter, I feel for you mate.

Ok, these kids got their mom's inventive brain but they also look like tiny little DnD villains while they're plotting. Honestly? Love that for them.

Two things! One, we get to see the recipes that are planned out for the family, all of which, kinda unsurprisingly, are vegetarian sounding. We have leeks and potatoes, eggplant burgers, and Mom's super soup! Plus a really cute drawing the kids made of their parents!

Two, those are groceries on the counter. Like, some of those look like bottles of stuff that seems like it should be kept cold. It almost makes me theorize that this wasn't a date night or anything like that (I know it's hinted to be, just throwing this theory out there) but instead some urgent family thing that would have pulled Rosita and Norman away, hence them needing a babysitter.

Ooooo, the phone has lights on the side, that's cool!

Ok, bonus points to Gunter for being able to stop a cabinet from falling while restrained because that would have seriously hurt those kids.

...Kids. Will. Try. To. Eat. Anything.

Also, Gunter's little grimace in response was just so fair. I've done that so many times mate.

Ok, what kinda phone is this?!?!?!?!?

Plus, love how all the kids were immediately afraid Gunter was going to call their mom the moment he got free. Terrifying Rosita confirmed.

Love this because it reminds me that Gunter canonically runs his own dance studio and likely teaches classes there.

Also, I have decided the kid on the counter to the right is Rory. No reason, just gives off Rory vibes.

Ok, but this is so accurate??? Like it is easy to convince kids to do things when you have music most of the time. They will just go with it.

Rosita and Norman were only gone from 7:30ish to 9:00 apparently. That is an incredibly short amount of time. Also means the kids were running absolutely insane for potentially close to an hour, so Gunter has my sympathies.

Rosita's kids really love space. Like not just their pjs but everywhere in their room. Bonus: stickers I was able to screenshot over their bunks.

The Alien Rosita Drawing Lurks Once More.

Gunter, I have a small feeling that as soon as those kids wake up and tell their mother, you will not be watching them next week.

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Overall, this was super cute. Gunter is already uncle Gunter to the kids so he was clearly incorporated into the family really quickly after the events of the first movie. Also, the piglets are pure and utter chaos and I love that.

#sing #sing gunter #sing rosita #sing norman #sing the piglets #yes rory is a canonical name of one of rositas kids #its actually one that i kept in the human au even #the space references are everywhere in this house #also gunter got the flashiest phone he could on purpose i just know it #if this was a date night it was the shortest ive ever seen #also they mentioned gunters name multiple times in this obviously #but it's pronounced goon-ter not gun-ter like ive heard people do and how i used to say it too #im pretty sure only buster pronounces it the second way but ill have to check #gunter canonically being called their uncle is so cute

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ranboo5 · 2 years

Photo

The world around Leaderboards breathes.

Breathing with it does not hurt.

The Beginner’s Guide, 2015 // Sanctuary + Fellowship Hall, Terrytown // Brian Magnier

My @mcytblraufest gift for @moonblanche !!!!!

So sorry for posting so close to the deadline; I was hit with some unexpected delays ^^” Anyway, I saw that you were one of my five fellow MCSR askers and also that you were partial to Tubbo, so...

Well, then I got a little carried away.

I hope you like it!! I had a TON of fun concepting, drawing for, and assembling this, and I ended up making a lot of art I’m quite proud of. I am saur happy with how my varying runner designs turned out in these I truly am

Continuations for the cut off transcripts of writing and some more (extremely rambling) commentary under the cut!

...with a much steeper time than what’s pictured.

...doesn’t come from fear. It can’t come from fear.

So the premise of this AU if it isn’t obvious is that Tubbo is isekai’d into the distributed society of the basically-monk-order of speedrunners loosely organized around Leaderboards, the closest thing there is to an authority, and over the course of his Wacky Adventures, Tubbo learns that meaningful striving for improvement and being part of something larger than yourself doesn’t have to hurt. After meeting Pres. Poundcake, who carries the title (a title Tubbo obviously associates a lot of baggage with) like it’s nothing – because, of course, in the world around Leaderboards it basically is – and learning that neither that title nor the man’s visions can help him orient himself, Tubbo goes to investigate this supposed central hub, only to find that it’s supposedly slow and outdated. Tubbo drifts around trying to decipher how these Verifiers deal with this backlog until he ends up hanging out with Feinberg, undisputed king of AA, who appears at first glance to be doing something Tubbo is familiar with the concept of – securing his supremacy with ever-escalating shows of domination. But one way or the other it turns out the drive isn’t fear. Tubbo has an answer about the meaning of Leaderboards’ apparent hierarchy, buzzing in his hands like a crumbling trident full of lightning.

He doesn’t know what to make of it.

Couriway helps, though. Back from a short-lived excursion into a survival world and one thousand runs that would never make the top of Leaderboards’ towers like his runs once did. Achievement is a strange thing. To make and to improve is a strange thing. To be part of something stranger yet. The brutality of it that Tubbo has known is not the default. There is something more to it, and it is in that that one can at once not be alone and not be consumed.

And, well, the world around Leaderboards breathes, and breathing with it does not hurt.

Drawing these was an Experience Ever. I might upload the timelapse later or something because Jesus Christ I spent 30 years on some of these...

I actually drew them in reverse order from how they appear! I had a lot of trouble getting a clear image for the first one with Pres. Poundcake, and the last one was conversely extremely vivid for me, so I just went ham. It was a pretty simple concept, and I wanted to capture a Feeling, so I decided to go crazy go stupid on painting it, which took easily longer than both the other two put together but ended up alright! Rendering all those trees was worth it lmao

It also helped me figure out what I wanted to do with the others – I tried to compose these so that Tubbo and the runner he’s drawn with would have, like, a diagonal progression down the page. I don’t know how well it comes across but I did it which I’m counting as a win

The second one I easily spent the least time on the environment of but I got to have one of my favorite designs be the star of the show. It was also very much the most fun to light and I’m quite happy with how it ended up! This one had to be dynamically lined in contrast to the Couriway one’s painting, which was mostly a lovely time except for the lightning... worth it however. This is the best my Fein design has ever looked I must say; I hope everyone understands now when I say FEINBERG MANTIS SHRIMP MECHA AGENDA WILL NEVER DIE

The one with Poundcake I had to do in, basically, crunch time (due to aforesaid delays), so I couldn’t spend 30 years lining and coloring it, and from the start it was always planned to be the least ambitious image anyway, but nevertheless I wanted to make it look nice/special and interesting to look at. I’ve come to quite like Pres. Poundcake as a streamer in the past little while and I wanted to have the drawing with his fictionalized avatar be fun, yk? So to compromise this out I decided to experiment a little and go with this picture-book vibe. I had some fun with the brushes, and since Pres. Poundcake is Tubbo’s introduction to the world, I paid the most attention to actually drawing an interesting environment for this one, too, or trying to lmao

I have talked for much too long but you must understand I tryharded this ridiculously hard so I have a lot to say dhsfdhjfjsdfh

#MCYTblr AU fest #god idk what to tag this . I would tag MC$R bc it's kind of the star of the show but also no one wants 2 see D$MP xover art abt it...#this was not the best move for clout I must say.#I am happy with what I made though so that will count #pencilmarks

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deiliamedlini · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday- Spirit Tracks AU

So, I haven’t been in the state for a bit, and haven’t been doing a ton of updates, but here’s kinda what’s going on: Dance With Me, I hit some writers block attempting to write from point A to B kind of thing, so that’s why that’s a delay, Pirates is almost totally edited, One Knight I think I might be able to post ch 2 tomorrow, I walk beside you chapter is almost done so I’m thinking this weekend for that, and I have one of the prompts nearly done so that might also be tomorrow!

ANYWAY This is the start of my spirit tracks AU that I started once I drew an aged up engineer Link and spirit Zelda and I’m coloring them now, but here was the doodle! And here is 1500 words of the first chapter lol

The sound of the train whistle had Princess Zelda’s ears perking up. Since she was a child, whenever the high pitch of the steam blowing out so loudly and with such a burning heat that it screamed, Zelda would run to the window to watch it race by.

How it must feel to go wherever you please, she thought bitterly, determined to ignore the train this time. There was no point in getting excited. It’s not like she was ever allowed to go anywhere. Her parents simply didn’t allow it.

“You’re too important,” her mother would say before kissing her hair. “To Hyrule, and to me.”

And her father would sit outside with her and name each train, guess the destinations, and teach Zelda every car. But never was she allowed to go inside a moving one.

The train whistled again, closer this time. It was nearing the gate.

“Ugh,” Zelda moaned, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and conceding to the call of the train.

She gathered up her long pink dress, still dressed up from a meeting earlier, though she forwent the crown. That was always so excessive.

With a sigh, she tossed the paperwork she’d been filling out into a folder and let it land on her desk with a heavy plop before rushing down the hall and out to the parapets for a better view of the station.

“Princess?” a guard asked, turning curiously as she threw herself comfortably against the stone.

“Yes?”

“Uh. Nothing. Never mind, Princess.”

Zelda smiled coyly before watching the train pull into the station. A freighter. There would be no passengers disembarking, but she could still come up with a story:

The train had just come from the Anouki region, and the engineer was a genius who knew exactly when to brake because there would be less friction to slow it down after all the ice and snow had saturated the wheels. She’d been doing it for years, so none of the cargo would move an inch, and when she came out of the train, her short black hair would be spiked with sweat. But the engineer wouldn’t care; she had more important things to do. She’d unload the cargo and be on her way to the forest for her next adventure.

Of course, Zelda’s story was all shattered in an instant when she saw the blurry figure in the distance was a blonde and a tall man. Too far to see anything else, she rested her chin in her hand and amended her story for hair color and a second engineer.

“Princess…” the guard said, hesitating. “Is there something you’d like me to do? Do you want privacy up here?”

Ruefully, Zelda smirked. “Oh, if only. However, there’s no such thing.”

The guard stood straight and bowed. “The illusion of it, then,” he said before walking away from her, taking up a post far away on the parapet where he could still keep an eye on everything.

She appreciated that. Truly.

Stories raced through her head as she watched the commotion as store clerks picked up their wares, gatherers watched the train itself, and even, it seems, friends came to visit the two who ran the train.

An older woman handed the younger engineer something, and Zelda could see them pop it into their mouth.

It was all standard, but still some of the most excitement Zelda usually got to bear witness to. A wistful sigh escaped as she wished for something more.

And then, something more happened.

The two engineers headed towards the castle.

No one ever came in. But there they were, each carrying a load of something on their shoulder. The blonde trailed behind a much taller, bulkier man in red coveralls and an even redder bandana over his head. He hulled inside, muscles bulging with the weight of his cargo.

The second was far less intimidating.

A young blonde man stepped into the courtyard, navy blue coveralls and a red hat with the train company’s logo on it, and thick gloves were just some of what adorned him. His hair looked messy under his hat, and a piece was in his eyes, but his two hands were occupied holding one of the sacks, struggling more than the other man was, but still carrying far more than Zelda estimated she could carry.

And he was young. Her age, perhaps. Maybe a little older, if he was an engineer. He was the one she’d seen step out of the train car earlier, the one steering. Goddess, she thought people had to be at least in their thirties before they could become the operator of such a complex vehicle. This man didn’t look even close.

And, Zelda noted with interest as she made herself comfortable on the parapet, hand on her cheek, he was cute.

The engineer stopped to readjust the sack on his shoulder, shimmying it into a more comfortable position, when the sun caught his eye. He flinched away, turning his face in the other direction.

And locked eyes with Zelda.

She felt her heart flutter. Oh, he most certainly was cute. Bright blue eyes the color of the clear sky met hers, and instantly, he seemed to melt. His mouth dropped, jaw slack, eyes wide. He went from unblinking, to several flustered ones in a row, to staring again. And she could see the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple after a few seconds.

Under his gaze, she found herself pushing her windswept blonde hair out of her face, and returned her attention to him, smiling widely and invitingly.

Perhaps it worked too well.

The man took a step towards the door, crooked as he was with his neck still craned at Zelda, and his feet twisted around each other, sending him wobbling. He seemed to catch his balance, but his sack tilted him further until he was flat on the ground. It ripped open, and hundreds of small pieces of— Zelda was too far away to see— scattered across the courtyard.

“Oh no,” Zelda breathed, pushing herself off the parapet and into the halls. She ran quickly, moving in a very un-ladylike way past several working maids, councilors, and footmen. But once the stone interior passed, she was in teh green garden of the courtyard and threw herself onto her hands and knees beside the man. “I”m so sorry!” She said, grabbing a…

“Coal,” he filled in, noticing her odd look. His voice was lower than she expected. But his blue eyes caught her once again, and gods, he was even more attractive up close. If he wasn’t, his beat red expression certainty would have endeared him to her immediately regardless. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was clumsy. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

She handed him several chunks of coal, her stained hands brushing his warm ones, charged with a sort of electricity that shocked them both.

“Sorry,” he said with a soft laugh.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she teased, grinning as she picked up several more. “Are you the engineer of that train that just came in?”

He grinned to himself, turning his face away to hide it, but Zelda saw it all the same. “Co-engineer. Alfonso has been doing it far longer than I have. And he doesn’t trip over nothing.”

She handed him another pile, their hands shocking once again. But she was intent to ignore it. “So I have the fortune of meeting the clumsiest engineer by the name of…”

“Right, sorry,” he chuckled. He held out his hand. “Link.”

She took it, reveling in the warmth and the shock even through his gloves. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. There was something odd about this Link.

“And you are?” he prodded.

Zelda must not have hidden her shock well, because his brow quirked up. She fumbled for her crown, remembering that she’d left it off, and glanced down at her simple dress, de-ornamentalized from her earlier meeting. No, she simply looked like a noble right now.

“Oh! I’m—“

“Princess Zelda, what in the world are you doing?” shrieked the horrified voice of Chancellor Cole. A short man, but the second in power only after the Royal Family, he had a commanding presence, despite his un-intimidating voice and form. She did quite like the hats he wore, but aside from that, there was little else about him that she liked.

“Princess?” Link echoed, scampering to his feet before immediately kneeling down once again, bowing his head. “Forgive me! I didn’t realize…”

“No, Link, it’s okay! Stand up.” She urged him up with her hand, again, surprised by the shock that still jolted her. “Chancellor,” she added, spinning to face the short man. “Please have someone fetch a new sack for this man’s inventory. I tore it in my haste and he’s in need of a new one.”

“Why were you running—“

“Chancellor. A sack, please.”

#WIP Wednesday #link #zelda #legend of zelda #spirit tracks #spirit tracks au #engineer link #spirit zelda #writing #unedited #zelink

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skypied · 1 year

Note

sorry this is from a few days ago but i still wanna do the ask meme ;3

🤡✨🧠🎢

(I love the perpetual 3-5 business days ADHD delay on both our sides<3) read moreing bc I refuse to shut up<3

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

A lot! A lot of the time writing is providing entertainment for myself, and I often make myself laugh tbh! But I have no clue if anyone else finds it funny, mostly bc what feedback I get on things being funny often differ from what I laugh at 🥴 the one I can point to (and will again later in this post) is the goat-wrestling scene in always be this close. I also think all the banter in Morning Routines is funny. There's a shit ton of fun stuff in my wips, but I'm coming back to those.

(unrelated, I just discovered I've on two different occasions, months apart, written the exact same line of dialogue, which is Alberto saying "stop complaining and put your dick in my mouth". The more you know)

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

ouhhhhh uhhhhhh I think I'd say dialogue is one of my strong suits... I think? It's what drives most of my writing, and, while I feel like I'm always making the boys more and more OOC with every iteration, I guess that's one of the things that makes people find my fics in character. Maybe??? I dunno??? (honestly this is the worst kind of question bc for all I know I'm WAY off base). When I first am able to suppress my shame, I think the porn I write is fun and hot (but, y'know, it's 100% self-indulgent and to my tastes since it's a drop in the ocean from my personal spank bank, so again, nervous to state it for a fact)

🧠 Pick a character, and I’ll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

given how I've rotated these blorbos so relentlessly in an endless drier for 14 months, there are sooooo many, and very few that are fixed in stone tbh. I more go through phases with headcanons, tbh! and I'm getting sleepy, maybe I'll come back and do a separate post if I remember anything special 😴

I can share that one of my current headcanon obsessions is Alberto in a skin tight short tennis dress though. I have this one in mind, bc that was the one that inspired it when a friend of a friend borrowed it to wear and he's a short'n'stout king who's dummy thicc and looked absolutely incredible wearing it. Hopefully I might draw and at some point post ... maybe in a sketch dump along with the two-three other pieces that are just "Alberto on his knees, thighs spread, soft lil tummy out, in cute outfits" hehe

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

I think always be this close with the Alberto almost getting himself severely damaged in a goat-wrestling match is the wildest. The rest of my fics are either just shameless porn or shameless fluff or writing-for-writing-practice's sake - I rarely write any plots or scenes that get wild. Honestly babe my wildest rides are still wips 😭 and I can't decide on just one so this is almost a ranking

#1 is probably the "discovering Luca's dick glows under the blacklight when they're getting nasty in a club bathroom" which also includes Alberto joking about Luca being into scat (or maybe it's on the cutting room floor) and jokes about dolphins being depraved creatures and Luca's dick trying to fuck Alberto's ear and Luca having a laughing fit over Alberto looking like he's playing a flute while sucking his dick and Luca delighted to discover Alberto likes having his mouth stuffed with his tail. this fic is honestly like 80% done and has been for almost a year, I'm just eternally struggling but I did my once-every-four-month casual perusing and re-discovered that it's a lot of fun and I wanna finish it

the also-80%-done "Luca tries casting himself in a porn" fic. It got away from me and now includes smut and is, oops, 12k. It's not as overtly wild, but I think it's funny, I think it'll be finished soon-ish, and I hope y'all will find it funny, too. If nothing else, laugh at me pls<3

the one doc just titled "train wrecks" which is 3am, Luca in the club spotting Alberto and going

Luca pretends he's so blackout drunk he's forgotten where he lives so Alberto will take him home, and the rest honestly is just the dumbest banter. Highlights include likening Alberto's dick to a Christmas present, joking about Luca time travelling to groom Alberto to give him even more daddy issues, Alberto calling Luca a bird furry for leaving old food bits in his mouth during makeouts, and a lot more that'd take too much context to explain. but besides being a lot of dumb funny shit what I like about it is exploring the kind of surprising honesty and delightful rudeness you get with complete strangers. I think my fav moment is them small talking to get to know each other more, Luca talks some about his mom being overbearing and a pain in the ass, then when Alberto talks about his parental situation Luca just goes "fuck you, you can’t let me complain about all that stupid shit and then tell me that" and, after Alberto tells details about his dad and Luca offers sympathies, Alberto in return goes "no, fuck you, that sympathy is for your own bad conscience, not me". This one is a lot less finished, due to being mostly dialogue, and needing three sex scenes (and counting maybe???) written out lmao

sandbox is pretty much eternally on hold, but some out of context highlights include:

Alberto's literal "anyways, here's Wonderwall" moment

everyone calling Luca a slut

Giulia calling Alberto "young dumb and full of cum

Luca repeatedly having to tell Alberto off for quoting memes in bed

Alberto's graphic Shrek t-shirt collection

Luca skipping class to suck a guy off during a matiné showing of a war drama

Lorenzo giving Daniela chlamydia when they were young

Luca accusing his parents of being in a swingers arrangement with Giulia's parents

Alberto: recites Luca's Starbucks order - Luca:

(that's not a joke btw it's literal actual canon)

okay I'm done will sleep now ty for letting me ramble @ u ! 🥰

#skypieposts #skypiechats

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bestpricemontrealmovers · 1 year

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Picking the Right Home loan Representative

About around 50% of the arrangements that I do are with contract dealer that I suggest. The other half is a shot in the dark. Meaning I never know who I will have the opportunity to work with. Indeed, work with. A ton of purchasers feel that they will be the only ones working with their banks, but as a land merchant, I set forth a great deal of energy with them too. I must ensure that they have every one of the records essential for the deal, too to ensure that our home loan endorsement cutoff time is met.

The cutoff time that was made in the deal is of most extreme significance to all interested parties. Merchants are as of now apprehensive, so to request an augmentation might actually kill the arrangement. They are not obliged to broaden. It ultimately depends on me, assuming I am in that particular situation, to persuade the venders and their land agent that we are still on target to get the home loan endorsement, despite the fact that we haven't gotten it yet.

One of my positions is to remain in a joint effort with the posting representative. Assuming I keep them in the know constantly, they will be comprehension of what's going on the off chance that I need to request an expansion. Ordinarily it's to the greatest advantage of the dealer to go on with the proposition as opposed to drop it for the following one. Anyway in the event that you got the acknowledged arrangement while in a numerous proposition situation, the circumstance isn't steady. The merchant would rather not lose time managing you when they could have another purchaser who has been messing with them for an opportunity.

Time postpones in a deal

At the point when I get a deal or make one for my purchasers, we typically see 10-14 schedule days for funding for a private property. Throughout the long term, I have been observing that banks are taking significantly longer to support the funding. They have stricter measures and more administrative noise, which makes more postponements. Numerous purchasers might not have their documents total with their home loan intermediary too, which additionally makes time delays.

"I've encountered many connections with contract representatives, and there have been cases that might have effortlessly been stayed away from with the right inquiries all along. On one arrangement I did, the home loan dealer was from Calgary. He didn't have a clue about our regulations, the time distinction was an issue and he didn't communicate in French. It was awful for myself as well as my clients."

Inquiries to pose to yourself about your home loan dealer

Do they live in Montreal (know the Quebec regulations and communicates in French)?

Will they be accessible or will they be holiday or away?

Will they deal with your case 100 percent, and not give it to a colleague or let the bank manage everything? (Importance will they address you completely and deal with you totally)

Could it be said that they are accessible on ends of the week for crises?

Do they work for one bank and their items, or would they say they are free and work with all banks?

Which banks do they have individual associations with. This assists with having pull in the event that they need to ask some help for a rush work.

For costs, ensure from the very outset that the bank assessment is paid for by another person other than yourself, ideally the bank. Some home loan agents have extraordinary arrangements with public accountants or movers, assisting you with setting aside cash.

These inquiries are to help you picked the best individual to chip away at your group. Indeed group. While purchasing, your group comprises of your home loan merchant, your land representative, a legal official, protection specialist and your structure monitor. For these experts, you will either be utilizing a prescribed individual or doing research to track down the best arrangement. Bargain = cost + administration.

I want to believe that you partook in this article. It's my pleasure to serve you. Assuming you would like more data about my administrations, kindly make sure to me.

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adamwitt · 2 years

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happy father’s day (for ron witt sr.)

Sometimes, I write about my parents on holidays. This usually translates to bitter and angry social media posts where I try my best to forgive, and fail. Doesn’t look like that’s the effort; that is always where it starts. I’m sorry if these have upset you, but this is the reality of how my parents treated me. It was frequently a battle, never at peace, and when it was at peace, you knew the rug would get yanked out from under you.

I can’t write about my mom without being bitter. Angry. Vicious. And I do not care if that ever changes, because she does not deserve my kindness.

My dad, I have some to spare. Not a ton. But enough. He left me with some good things to remember, in a sea of awful. My dad rarely tried. When he did, he always made it count.

I inherited my dad’s hairline. I inherited some of his anger, some of his bitterness; most of what I have is my own, and in my own flavor. I did not inherit his mechanical skills or his alcoholism or his rageful enjoyment of hating other people. My love of reading was not borrowed from him, because he read exactly one book, in his words, in his time alive (he died at 75). It was almost a weird point of pride for him, not to do things that other people got joy out of. My handwriting looks like his. I look like him. There are days where my voice hits the right (or wrong) pitch and I can hear him. It is nice, on occasion, to remember what he sounded like, though I reckon he’s one of those voices I’ll never forget.

There are certain people I have no good stories about. My dad, thankfully, left me with some good ones. I will share two favorites, probably stories you’ve heard, but not stories I’ve ever written down.

When I got my DUI at eighteen, my dad didn’t need to drive me back and forth to work. He did. He found this, in a way, to be his duty. I completely disagreed with this, but I wasn’t about to look away from missing a forty-four block walk in favor of getting there way earlier in air conditioning or heat, depending on what the season necessitated. There were times we’d spend the trip arguing; more often, we’d spend it in silence. He’d curse at traffic doing anything he found unsavory, such as turning in any direction, slowing down for any reason, or delaying him eight or nine seconds so he couldn’t speed to a red light. My dad’s sense of time was hilarious: he firmly believed every second counted, as long as he was on the road and frustrated. He was a racecar driver before I came along, and he never seemed to let go of the idea that the road was just another track he could take over.

My dad listened to the worst music. Just, holy shit. Racist country music. Songs about divorces. Dogs. Fightin’. Fightin’ with dogs. He could’ve written songs about fightin’ with dogs, but he didn’t write. There was a time he asked me to make him “a CD he could drive to” and then, because I didn’t do it fast enough, he gave me a list of songs to put on there. All the racist country music checked out, but it turned out he also loved Blondie. Drives would go: racism, racism, racism from dad, racism from the radio, dad singing along to “Heart of Glass.” He contained multitudes, the old bastard.

I got in the car one day after a shift, and I wanted nothing less than to listen to Blondie. So I brought a CD full of my driving music (though I was not, at the time, allowed by law). I threw the CD in without saying much and took my position in the passenger seat. “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight” by The Postal Service started. We drove along a bit and I was silent, just listening to the music in the, admittedly, killer soundsystem on his 2006 Chevy Cobalt. He eventually asked me what the instruments were. I explained it was electronics. He says “Synths?” and I said, and went through a bit of how the Postal Service guys and gal met and started sending pieces to each other (hence their name). He nodded along, tapped along to the percussion. “I like this,” he said. I let him keep the CD.

My dad never listened to music anywhere but the car. He didn’t own CDs unless I bought them for him. That said, he only listened to the radio about a dozen times that I can remember. Until the CDs I burned, or bought, or brought myself.

The Postal Service drive was a perfect confluence of little dad-related items. He wasn’t patient. But: he drove me to work every day, despite my shitty teenage attitude, and to hear my mom tell it (which I believe about as far as I can throw), even enjoyed that as a kind of routine. He’d get bummed when a friend or a girlfriend or a date or a co-worker would stop him from driving me home. It sounds like the right kind of territorial for dad. He liked, even if it was just to throw out angry one-liners, to be involved. I can relate, I guess; I think that was my accidental shtick for a long time, despite the fact that I’m actually funny.

He wasn’t patient. He listened to garbage music. But the guy loved me.

I can’t listen to that album anymore without thinking of him, and I don’t mind that at all.

Another memory is about video games. This goes back to 2004, if I’m right, maybe 2005, which places me at 15 or 16 years old.

There was an arcade in Chicago Ridge Mall, just under twenty minutes north of our house (if you drive as slowly as I do) that I believe was called Aladdin’s Castle. They had a great selection of machines. My dad liked to go to the mall to go to the old-school candy store where you could take the little shovels and fill bags with gummy bears or othersuch things that rotted your teeth out (and explained his situation a little bit; my dad lived for comfort and happiness and some rage, but not much else). The candy store was either next to, or not far from, the arcade. We started passing by. There was no occasion, but my dad goes: “Hey, let’s stop in here.”

If he hated good music, he hated video games even more. I got an infinite amount of grief for the infinite time I would spend on video games, and that was fine by me; I didn’t spend too much time occupied with what he thought at all (except, you know, in that complete way that I did, until he croaked), nor did he with what I thought (hey, maybe it’s not as bleak as I thought; my dad loved a secret).

Nevertheless, we’re in the arcade, and I mentioned I didn’t have any money. My dad was the most miserly person on god’s green earth, but that day, he forked over a ten dollar bill for me to throw in the token machine. I did that, took my haul of tokens, and found a Guilty Gear machine.

“So, what the hell is this thing?” he asked. I tried to explain and then informed him I’d probably need to go to college to explain. He thought it was pretty funny. Then, he encouraged me to play it. I think this may have been an exercise in people-watching for him (he was so ungodly nosy, as all old white people eventually become). I plunked a handful of coins and played. He half-watched. I found a Marvel vs. Capcom machine and he pointed out the characters that he recognized, and he asked me about how the rights to that worked. I was 16, but I read enough video game magazines (many of which he subscribed me to; he liked me reading) that I kind of knew. I explained what I could. He seemed satisfied by that, might have even enjoyed it. Maybe I should have gotten him into reading John Grisham novels.

Halfway into one of my games (where someone showed up and wanted to play against me), “A Decade Under the Influence” by Taking Back Sunday started playing. Probably my favorite song at the time. We got through the song, and through my losing battle (man, it’s really life-affirming to literally get money to play a game from your damn dad, and then lose). Dad got sick of the music. We left.

I griped about losing the match. He reminded me that I tried and gave me a clap on the back. He promised me we’d come back. We never did. I’m okay with that. I heard “A Decade Under the Influence” years and years later (2011, if I was living in Pennsy at the time) and hadn’t thought about it since it happened by that point, until the musical mental trigger.

He’d be happy that I remember these things. One of the most important finds, for me, during the excavation of his belongings after his death, was a photo album. A huge photo album. My dad was born in ‘39, so there was an unexpected ton of material in there, almost all dated at least by year. Lots of photos of me and my siblings.

He might be even happier that I wrote about them. For all his failings, he had one rule he stuck to: he always wanted me writing.

I used to write something for him every Father’s Day. It took me eight years after his passing. I figure it’s the least I could do.

#father's day

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hypmicawoou · 2 years

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Hi I know I've been quiet for a while, this semester has just been murder on me and I'm only just now able to catch my breath. Normally I would post this on my Twitter but I have like, actual honest-to-God Chronicles of Darkness writers on there following me and I'm trying to not embarrass myself even more than I already have. But werewolf Kokuri gives me tons of feelings!

Just. One of the things that I think is really characteristic of him is that there's a huge disconnect between what he thinks he is vs. what he can actually do. In his own head, he's this genius mastermind, and eventually the world's going to be bowing before him. But he isn't! He's a great talker but he doesn't have the patience to run longer schemes, he's too impulsive. IMO he has very little emotional intelligence as well (mostly directed at himself-- he doesn't really know how to deal with negative emotions or how to delay gratification, he's able to pick up on other peoples' and think on his feet fast enough to run short-term cons but, well, the second he has a chance to one-up someone who's insulted him in the past he goes and gloats about it and halfway gives away what his plan is.)

Anyway, the end result of this is that when he had his First Change and it turned out he was a Cahalith and not something more subtle or clever (his entire job is to be a loud, aggressive moving target) it felt like a cosmic joke on him. The prophetic dreams made things even worse because he felt like Luna was yanking him around and telling him what to do. He was banking on being an Irraka (clever and sneaky) or an Elodoth (...also clever and sneaky, but more of a social manipulator than a thief and assassin.)

So him siding with the Pure and getting rid of his Auspice was a snap decision like every other bad choice he's made in his life. But being told he was different from humans and, more importantly finally above something by sheer virtue of just being a werewolf was exactly the kind of thing he wanted to hear. The problem is he doesn't really have the dedication to commit himself to bringing back Taga Dam or even to do whatever it takes to win the way the, uh, less scrupulous Sky-Seers prefer. He's gone through four packs in the past six years and either they ran him off for being a liability or he ran off because he got irritated with them for petty reasons that he can't really place because he doesn't do much self-reflection at all.

He's been stuck with North Bastard the longest because they're...not really much in line with their own Tribes' philosophies either, and he still constantly fantasizes about being a lone wolf and telling himself that he'll ditch them too (he won't.) He's just constantly uncomfortable and agitated with where he is and what he's doing but can't place why.

If he'd stopped for a second and tried to think about why he got picked as a Cahalith and accepted it then he'd probably have been both a better person and better at what he does and on some level he knows that. He just can't admit it because he's sunk in so much to his current life and he doesn't want to face the fact he was wrong and he just made a very, very permanent choice that he'll never be able to take back now. If your Auspice is gone, it's gone forever. He might be able to ditch the Sky-Seers for the Eaters of the Dead because there's been rumors for years that Ravening Wolf will maybe, MAYBE welcome in Pure werewolves who are sufficiently contrite and genuinely regret a.) spurning Mother Moon, b.) fighting against their own "family" and c.) generally being werewolf supremacists, but that would require...well, admitting he regrets doing something. So that won't happen. ¯\_(；へ；)_/¯ That and even a lot of the Forsaken can't take the Eaters of the Dead seriously so, you know, he'd be losing some level of prestige there.

#ryozan kokuri #really sorry to people who were hoping for hypsute content and get this gibberish #i hope it's vaguely comprehensible

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actualfarless · 3 years

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The Dragon Oath

The Dragon is just as much of a prisoner as the Princess is.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

For centuries, Alamor was a hidden jewel, protected by mountains to the north, a vast ocean to the south, and, of course, the great hunting grounds on the borderlands that belonged exclusively to dragons. Rumors of a mystical kingdom eventually reached the outside world. As years passed and empires rose, Alamor became the envy of greedy kings. They set their armies on the kingdom, but none ever made it past the mighty dragons and so Alamor lived in peace.

Then a great Alamoran king discovered the Dragon Oaths.

The king bound dragons into his service and turned the fierce predators into tools of war. Corrupted by power and spurred by vengeance, the king launched a campaign against his neighbors. Three kingdoms fell before the new Alamor and, if not for a stray arrow, the entire continent would have. The king of the dragons perished. The Oaths were broken.

Many of the dragons fled from the land, retreating to unknown lands, swearing to never be bound again. A few foolishly stayed, believing that the Oaths died with the king.

They were wrong.

The king had passed his knowledge to his son who passed it to his daughter and so forth. The Oaths became a sacred rite. Though none of the great king’s lineage succumbed to corruption, each invoked an Oath, swearing in not an army, but a single dragon to service. As generations passed, the dragon’s resentment faded and, eventually, the Oath became a tradition and an honor for both monarch and dragon.

Princess Marianne knew she would, one day, invoke her own Dragon Oath. Alamor worked closely with dragons and she knew that none would dare hurt a monarch or heir, if only because the Oath prevented them. She knew that she was perfectly safe.

That did not stop her from screaming when the flying beast scooped her from her bedroom balcony in the middle of the night. She had never seen a dragon up close, but she knew immediately that her captor was not her father’s dragon. Scars carved gaps between her dull green scales and a crest ran between her two curved horns. The dragon’s mighty talons gripped Marianne loosely, but no matter how she pushed, she could not make a gap wide enough to escape.

“Stop squirming, Princess,” the dragon hissed. “You do not want to fall at this height.”

Marianne didn’t listen and the dragon released a heavy sigh, tightening her grip on the young princess until they reached their destination. Marianne couldn’t tell how long she rode in the dragon’s hand but she was very sore and tired once released.

The dragon placed her in a courtyard of an abandoned castle. She couldn’t see beyond the great walls from the ground, but the cold suggested she was somewhere in the mountains. If that was right, she was too far from her home to walk. Perhaps guessing her intent, the dragon placed one massive claw on either side of the princess, blocking her escape from any direction but back into the great hall.

Marianne glared down the dragon, meeting its yellow eyes with her own. She knew some animals could sense fear. She hoped the dragon could not. “Once my father learns of this, he will have you killed. Just because you’re a dragon doesn’t mean you’re safe. He’s a king.”

“I am here on your father’s orders.”

Marianne opened her mouth to retort but confusion replaced anger so rapidly, all that came out was a series of sputtering sounds.

“You’re not Rynwyld,” she said after a moment.

“I am not.”

“Rynwyld is my father’s dragon.”

“Dragons belong to no one, child.” The dragon’s tone remained the same, but her frills on her neck rose and she moved her head very close to Marianne, reminding the princess of her many sharp teeth.

“But-”

“No one.”

“Are you not bound by an Oath, then?”

The dragon moved her head away. “I am.”

“How is that any different?”

“You would not understand.”

“Well, how long are you going to keep me here?”

“As long as I must. I am bound to keep you here until a worthy knight claims you. Food will be provided for some time and the library has a vast selection of books.”

“What’s to stop me from escaping?”

“I am.”

Marianne did her best to keep a brave face, but the dragon’s unwavering stare unnerved her. She didn’t think the dragon would eat her if it was bound by an Oath, but she wasn’t sure if she should test that theory. “You have to sleep sometime.”

“I have gone entire years without rest. I can do so again.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

Marianne and the dragon spent the first night both wide awake, watching each other. Marianne was not convinced entirely by the dragon’s story - her father would have told her about this plan so she could at least pack - but it seemed like a lot of work if the dragon was going to eat her. Perhaps fear marinated humans.

She did not try to escape that night, but over the course of the month, she tried no fewer than five separate occasions. The first few times, the dragon caught her before she had even made it to the front gate. The last time, however, Marianne waited until the dragon went on one of her daily hunts.

Once outside the gate, she confirmed she was in the mountains. The castle was built on a wide stretch of land that turned to steep cliffs on every side, with only a single wooded road up and down. Marianne couldn’t be sure where she was, but surely once she escaped the dragon’s clutches, she could find someone to guide her home. Maybe even one of the brave knights supposedly searching for her.

The princess had barely made it to the woods when the bloody carcass of a deer fell out of the sky and blocked her path. The dragon landed a second later, red blood dripping from her jaws. She flexed her wings, relaxing them from the flight before folding them tight against her side. She stared at the princess as though expecting Marianne to speak. The princess did not.

“You are persistent,” the dragon said after a moment.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I most certainly can. I would prefer if I did not need to keep an eye on you. Will you continue to run away?”

“Obviously.”

“Then I should warn you, the nearest town is more than a day’s walk away.” The dragon considered Marianne for a moment. “You have short legs. Maybe two. The mountains are filled with wolves and bears and many things I know to be dangerous to humans. Are you prepared to deal with those?”

“You’re just saying that to scare me.”

“If I wanted to scare you, Princess, I would not need to devise stories.”

Marianne contemplated running again, but she knew it was useless. She would get mere steps before the great green dragon grabbed her and brought her back to the castle anyway. She scowled at the beast, turned on her heels, and marched back to the castle. The dragon followed, carrying the dead deer in her jaw.

That was not Marianne’s last escape attempt, but she never got further. As the weeks stretched into months, her attempts became infrequent and by the time frost covered the ground daily, she didn’t try at all. She struggled to sleep yet found herself awake well after the day was half over and often she stayed in bed until she woke again, having never willingly gone to bed.

The castle was well stocked with books and games, the latter of which Marianne thought was a waste. Her only companion was the dragon. After Marianne stopped trying to escape, she and the dragon lived in a strained and quiet peace. The green beast left for hunts almost daily. Occasionally she would return with her meals. Sometimes only with wounds. When she was not on a hunt, the dragon stretched lazily in the courtyard. A depression formed in the ground where she made her bed.

Marianne made her peace with a dull life, accepting the dragon’s first conversation as truth. Eventually, a worthy knight would come and slay the beast and she would be free.

Then one night in the deep of winter, she heard a terrible sound.

Marianne awoke with her heart pounding in her chest, unsure if she had dreamed it until the sound echoed through the castle walls once more. She felt it penetrate and rattle her bones and no matter how she covered her ears, the noise found its way into her soul. She felt her heart grow heavy with a grief she didn’t understand. A momentary silence brought relief that left Marianne determined.

She slipped out of bed, appreciating the chill touch of the stone floor on her feet if only to feel something else. There was a dearth of weapons in the castle not that Marianne had any need. Anything that could overpower a dragon would best her in any contest of strength. She had once considered killing the dragon herself, but she decided the risk was too great. Still, the princess stopped by the kitchen to grab a large knife. Perhaps luck would be on her side for once.

Following the noise, Marianne found herself at the edge of the courtyard, hiding in the shadows where the overgrown bushes met the castle wall. A thick layer of white snow covered the ground everywhere but where her captor lay. The dragon was alone and undisturbed by the wailing noise. She curled in a ball with her tail curled under her neck, shielding herself from the gently falling snow with her wings. The flakes melted as they fell upon her scales. Her face especially was wet from the snow.

Alone in the courtyard, the dragon looked peaceful. Marianne could almost forget the long claws and sharp teeth and fire. Then Marianne heard the noise again and she understood.

Marianne had never heard a dragon cry. No one had ever heard a dragon cry. As far as she knew, dragons couldn’t cry.

Yet the great green dragon wept.

Marianne jolted at the sound, having forgotten for a moment how horrible it was. She dropped the knife in the snow and collapsed to her knees. Now, unshielded by the walls, she felt the full weight of the dragon’s sorrow weigh on her. Her face felt wet. From ice or snow or her own tears, she could not tell. The princess never expected to feel any sympathy for the dragon but the pain swallowed her whole, leaving her in darkness.

“Did I wake you?”

The princess snapped her attention to the dragon. The dragon had not moved. She remained curled, facing away from Marianne and the abandoned keep. Maybe the dragon meant to hide her own tears.

“I am sorry, Princess. I did not mean to disturb you. Tonight, I find myself filled with a great sadness -” the dragon lingered on this word for a moment, moving her gaze to the moon above - “and regret. It is not your responsibility. I will control myself.”

Again, Marianne felt a stabbing pain in her heart. Part of her mind told her it was silly to care so deeply about the dragon’s despair and that the beast had weaponized her emotions. The dragon kept her trapped within the castle. She deserved no sympathy. Yet Marianne didn’t care. She felt the dragon hurt. It compounded her own. Jailer or no, she was sorry for the great beast.

“Go back to bed,” the dragon said softly. “I will not wake you again.”

Marianne nodded. Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “goodnight, Dragon.”

Silence filled the air. The dragon settled back down.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

<<>>

Marianne had to make a decision.

She considered the question carefully throughout the winter and by the time the first layer of snow began to melt, she knew her answer. However, knowing what to do and actually doing it were two separate things, the latter significantly more complicated. Spring arrived in the mountains by the time she had the courage to approach the dragon.

The dragon stretched in the courtyard, wings splayed to absorb the unfiltered sun. She watched Marianne with an indeterminable stare, waiting for the princess to make her request. Marianne could not get the mental image of the dragon growing bored and deciding to eat her out of her head. But she had seen the dragon at her weakest. She probably wouldn’t eat Marianne.

Probably.

“What is your name?” The princess finally asked.

The dragon’s inscrutable gaze changed, but Marianne understood it no better. “I am surprised you ask. Surprised but… thankful. You would find my true name difficult to pronounce, but you may call me Maeryl.”

“Maeryl,” Marianne repeated, her voice a hushed whisper that barely escaped her lips.

“I know it is polite to ask in return, but I do already know yours.”

“Marianne,” the princess said.

“Yes.”

A silence filled the courtyard unlike any the pair had shared before. Not caused by fear or disdain, but the awkward realization that, after nearly a year, they had never had a real conversation. Marianne had many questions for the dragon, but none felt like an appropriate follow-up. The dragon - Maeryl - seemed to have nothing to say. She studied Marianne, narrow eyes never moving off the girl, but remained quiet.

"How, uh, how old are you?" Marianne said quietly.

"Older than you would believe, I imagine."

"How old is that?"

"Hundreds of years. I forget the number. Alamor was little more than a town on a riverbank when I was in my youth."

"Were you part of the original Dragon Oaths?" Marianne asked before she knew what she was saying. The dragon's face changed again and the princess worried she erred, but Maeryl did not eat her.

"I was. I served the king until the end."

The courtyard had a small fountain. It broke early in the winter and was little more than a pond at this point. Marianne settled on the edge, an eager grin taking her face. "What was it like?"

“I felt no different, but my mind was not my own. I could speak my mind, think my own thoughts, act of my own free will, until doing so violated the Oath. Then I was bound. It did not feel as if the Oath denied my freedom, not until I was rid of it. It corrupts the mind. I believed the choices I made to be my own. Only when I was unbound did I realize the truth.”

“Oh.”

“The nature of the Oaths have changed since then. Do not fret.”

“What about the war? That must have been exciting.”

"War is always terrible, Princess. I had hoped to never see another one.*

“Oh,” Marianne said again. "Why didn't you flee?"

"Excuse me?"

“The stories say that many of the originally bound dragons fled across the ocean. Only those that were too old or too weak stayed. If the Oaths were bad and the war was terrible, why didn’t you flee?”

“Do I seem weak?”

“Not at all! That’s why I ask.” Marianne spoke so rapidly she tripped over her own words. She heard stories of the pride of dragons. True or not, insulting Maeryl seemed not worth the risk.

“If I told you I stayed because this is my home, would that be enough?”

Marianne shrugged. “I guess.”

Every expression the dragon made was terrifying and alien to Marianne, but she swore the dragon smiled. Maeryl nodded. “It would not. I understand. I can tell you someday, Princess, but I ask a favor in exchange.”

On impulse, Marianne nearly accepted without question, but she held her tongue. Stories never claimed dragons excelled at subterfuge, but they were clever.

“What’s the favor?” she asked cautiously.

“Conversations. This has been nice, even if the topic is a bitter one for me. In truth, I do not care which topic you choose; I only wish for the conversation. I would like it if we could have more.”

“Is that all? Of course, Maeryl!”

The two beamed at each other for a moment that stretched on too long. Slowly, Marianne’s smile faded into a concerned frown. She patted her legs and swung them awkwardly from her fountain seat, waiting for the dragon to speak, but Maeryl never did.

“Did… did you mean now?” Marianne asked finally.

“Only if you would like. I do not expect it.”

“Oh, okay.” Marianne rose to her feet. “I think I am going to go for now.”

“That is fine.”

“But I will be back.”

“Okay.”

“And we will talk again.”

“Good.”

“Uh, goodbye, Dra- um, Maeryl.”

“Goodbye, Princess.”

The next few conversations Marianne had with the dragon were as uncomfortable as the first, but the princess intended to keep her promise. Spring turned to summer to fall to winter and back to spring once more. Marianne’s visits with the dragon became more frequent. More comfortable. She slowly forgot the bitter circumstances of their relationship.

On the good days, she caught herself thinking of the dragon as her friend.

Marianne would ask Maeryl about her life, the nature of dragons, the history of alamor, or any topic that interested her. Maeryl readily answered the princess’ questions, no matter how stupid or embarrassing she felt they were. And when it was Marianne’s turn to speak, Maeryl listened patiently, prodding gently with questions when silence filled the air. Marianne once mentioned a book she read in the castle library. At Maeryl’s request, she spent the following week reading it to the dragon. Once she turned the final page, she found another and another after that. The library was vast enough that it would take her years to get through it all.

The second and third years passed easier than the first now that both princess and dragon had an outlet for conversation. Some days, Marianne even forgot she was a prisoner. But always, she was quickly reminded.

Maeryl continued her hunts, as she called them. She would disappear for hours at a time and return bloody. Maeryl did not make excuses, choosing instead to say nothing at all, perhaps because she understood Marianne knew the truth. No creature could harm a dragon or would dare to do so if it could. The scars Maeryl earned were caused by knights. Each one a failed attempt at rescue. Marianne tried not to think about it when she noticed the dragon pulling arrows from her side. Maeryl was polite and kind to the princess. Marianne hated to think of what she did to the brave knights. She hated herself for caring more about the dragon's injuries than the gate of her rescuers.

So well into the third year, when self-loathing and guilt became too much, she waited in the courtyard for the dragon's return, intent on hearing the truth from Maeryl's mouth. She had rehearsed the arguments in her head, mocking thought-Maeryl's voice when the dragon in her mind won. But when she saw the dragon land, she reconsidered her tone.

A large gash ran from her shoulder to her claw, worse than anything Marianne had seen before. Her arm was wet with blood and the wound was deep enough that her natural healing had not begun to turn the cut into a scar. It was so bad, in fact, that Maeryl groaned when she landed and immediately lifted the wounded limb off the ground as to avoid putting weight on it. If Marianne didn't know better, she might have thought the dragon looked afraid.

Maeryl curled around herself, cleaning the wound with her tongue. She stopped licking herself when she locked eyes with the princess and though her scales hid her blush, the way she awkwardly hid her leg and widened her eyes revealed enough. Marianne struggled with dragon expressions, but she knew Maeryl well enough to know when she was embarrassed.

“Why do you fight them?” Marianne asked.

"Fight who?"

"The knights. I know that's what you're doing when you say you're hunting."

“That is the agreement.”

“I know that is the agreement,” Marianne said, not hiding her annoyance, though weary of the dragon’s responding glare, “but why is it the agreement?”

The dragon’s stare softened. She considered the question for a moment. “Your father wants you to find a husband who is pure of heart. The fight is a test.”

“You’re testing their hearts in a duel? How do you know who is good or bad?”

"No man is good. Your kind corrupts too easily," she replied bitterly. "I suppose the same is true for all creatures. I would consider the first that chooses not to fight."

"None of them have tried that?"

"It is a reflex, I wager. They see a large dragon, remember that I can breathe fire if I wish, and charge me before I decide to do so. They forget I can also speak."

"Do they always strike first?"

"Of course. There is no point to the test if I force a decision on them." Maeryl looked at the bloody wound. "I must be getting old."

Marianne pondered the dragon's words for a moment. Pain struck her heart. Maeryl's words were pessimistic but she spoke them as plainly as the truth. Marianne studied the scars of her captor and protector and she struggled to convince herself Maeryl was wrong. No man is good.

She blamed the dragon for her imprisonment, but it was the king's words that kept her there. She knew him as a confidant and a friend and, at times, her father. She did not know him as a warden. As a slaver.

No man is good.

The princess moved closer to the dragon, lifting - or trying to lift - Maeryl's mighty claw from over the wound. "Let me help."

“Oh, Princess, no-”

Maeryl’s stare met Marianne’s and the dragon fell silent. Tears formed at the corner of the princess’ eyes. Her lips quivered as she strained a smile. Maeryl found human expressions difficult but she understood her ward’s stare well: the unbearable sadness of guilt and shame for things far beyond her control and the determination to right the world. Maeryl had felt it once herself.

“Please,” Marianne whispered.

Slowly, Maeryl moved her arm so the princess could see the wound in all its gruesome detail. She had suffered worse before.

Still, it was nice to have someone care.

<<>>

The season turned to winter - the fourth of her imprisonment - and brought a bitter cold that even chilled Maeryl’s scales. The stream of gallant knights waned months prior, before the first snow even fell from the sky, and now several weeks had passed without the dragon leaving for a 'hunt.' Several long nights alone in the library left Marianne with too many thoughts to work through, so she sought Maeryl’s company, asking the dragon to light a fire.

Early in winter, Marianne suggested the dragon come inside and sleep in the great hall, but Maeryl sheepishly pointed out she would not fit through the door. Marianne told her to knock out the wall. Maeryl refused. Marianne found a sledgehammer and started the work herself, but after two full days of work, she realized that summer would arrive before she finished. So when she wished to speak with Maeryl, she met the dragon in the frozen courtyard, wearing layers upon layers of clothes.

“I’m not sure I even want a husband,” Marianne said after the silence had lingered too long. Dragons understood time differently and Maeryl would be content to let her sit with no question asked.

“Oh?”

"I thought I did, when I was younger. I read so many stories of young princesses who met a handsome knight and married and lived happily ever after. I wanted that for so long. When I stopped trying to flee, I accepted that a knight would come for me. I thought I wanted it."

“That’s changed, has it?”

“Maybe. Yes. Well…” Marianne paused, organizing the thoughts in her head. They were so many and so scattered she worried she would forget the important ones. “I don’t think that’s ever what I wanted. A husband, that is. When I read those stories, it was never the men I cared about. I wanted the ever after. I wanted to be happy and if I had to marry a handsome knight, so be it. I figured happiness would be worth it.”

“I see.”

“But now I worry that I won’t be happy, even if I marry some man who is ‘pure of heart.’” Marianne hesitated. “Especially if I marry a man.”

“Oh.”

Marianne turned from the fire to the dragon with an earnest, worried stare. "That's not strange, is it? Does that make me strange?"

"Oh, Princess, no, never. Many feel the way you do. I am among them." Maeryl shifted so her head was on level with Marianne and her body blocked the wind. "The love in books often fails to reflect reality. It takes many forms, waxes and wanes with time, and only you can decide who you love. When you do, I am sure she will bring you happiness."

“Many things bring me happiness, Maeryl. That’s not the same as being happy.”

“I know. One does not live as long as I without learning this.” Maeryl rested her head on the ground. “I am sad you’ve learned this so young.”

"I don't know if I deserve to be happy."

The dragon was silent for a moment and Marianne panicked that she had somehow overstepped. Before she could tell the dragon to forget what she said, Maeryl spoke. "I know that feeling too. For what it is worth, I think you do."

"Why? What have I done to earn it? Nothing!"

"You do not earn the right to be happy, Princess. There is no great quest that makes you worthy. What makes you deserving is that you have done nothing to lose that right. You have done no terrible deeds."

Marianne disagreed. She had once told Maeryl that a book was lost when she simply got bored of reading it. But before she could vocalize her thoughts, Maeryl continued, "I know that merely hearing those words will not rid the darkness in your mind, but that does not make them any less true. You deserve to be happy if only because you do not deserve to be unhappy. If you need more, I will provide.

"Nearly two years ago, you made me a promise. You did not have to keep it, and yet you did. You read to me when I asked. You learned chess to sate my boredom. You have tended to my wounds. Marianne, you have shown me kindness I have not received in hundreds of years. You may think these are simple things, but to me, they mean the world. If these actions do not make you a worthy person, I do not know what could."

"Thank you," Marianne said quietly.

"I should be the one saying that. Thank you, Princess."

Marianne fell silent. Maeryl's words did not eliminate all the thoughts that poisoned her brain, but now she felt like she could breathe at least. Knowing that Maeryl understood her, perhaps more than she could ever anticipate, helped too. When the darkness returned, they could fend it off together once more.

“Do you think I could be happy?” she asked after a moment.

For a long time, Maeryl said nothing. The question hung in the winter air as dangerous as any arrow and the longer Maeryl went without reply, the surer Marianne was of her answer. Finally, the dragon did speak. "I hope so."

For the moment, that was enough. Marianne settled against the dragon’s neck, staring up at the stars. With the turmoil in her mind quieted, she could appreciate the beauty of the night sky.

“Have you ever been in love,” Marianne asked after a while.

“Once, long ago. Your kingdom was small then and I much younger.”

“Tell me about them.”

“She was… kind.”

Marianne waited for Maeryl to continue. The dragon did not. “Kind? That’s it?”

“I have not spoken of her for quite some time. I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you still think about her?”

“Every day.”

“Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think of the way she smiled. How her eyes would light up with all the joy in the world when she laughed. How I felt when I saw her. I think of her despair. When she would cry, my heart grew heavy. I think of her wit. The jokes she would tell and the many games of chess I lost.” Maeryl sighed. “I knew no one greater. I gave my heart to her.”

“Was she beautiful?”

“Like a jewel.”

“What happened?” Marianne asked, then added, “you’re talking about her in past tense. Are you no longer together?”

“She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was centuries ago.”

“Still, Maeryl, I am sorry."

"It was inevitable."

"That does not make it any easier."

The dragon considered this for a moment. "It does not."

"I am sad I did not know her.”

“I think you would have liked her. She would have liked you. You are very similar.” Maeryl rested her head on the ground once more. "Could we change topics? If you have not more questions, Princess."

Marianne did have more questions, but she held them. The dragon had been kind. She could be kind as well. "Maybe we could just stare at the stars together."

"I think we could."

"Wake me if I fall asleep. I don't want to wake up frozen."

"Of course, Princess."

<<>>

Maeryl felt the change days before he came. It was otherwise a day like any other. Winter limped forward on dying legs. Snow still covered the ground and the wind still howled in the night. But when Maeryl awoke in the morning, shaking the snow from her shoulder and stretching the aches out of her legs, she knew the day was different.

Maeryl met him at the field far below the castle, far out of sight of Marianne if the princess woke. She watched the red dragon as he descended in lazy circles from the sky. Like her, his body was covered in scars and spines and frills, but he was much larger. The ground shook when he landed and his claws dug deep into the earth. Shaking the weariness of the flight off his wings, the red dragon glared at Maeryl with his one good eye.

He had two when she saw him last.

She knew Rynwyld. She knew him by his true name. She knew he would not let her say it.

“Greetings, Brother,” Maeryl said.

“I would call you Sister, but you deserve no such kinship.”

Maeryl ignored the slight. “It is done then?”

“I considered leaving without telling you. I still think I should.”

“Yet here you are,” Maeryl said. Her princess often struggled to understand the subtle emotions of dragons and Maeryl had grown used to her obliviousness. Rynwyld did not. He seemed pleased by her frustration. That only frustrated Maeryl more. “So it is done. One way or another.”

“It is done. The Oaths are finally broken.”

“Oh.”

Rynwyld grinned devilishly. “What? Was that not the answer you hoped? You would prefer we remain bound forever.”

“It was not the answer I expected. What will you do now?”

“Sleep. I have not done so for decades. After that, whatever I wish.” Rynwyld stared past Maeryl to the mountains, no doubt searching for the castle within. “Is the daughter still here?”

“Why?”

“You know why.” Rynwyld bared his fangs. “She is born of that cursed line. If she learns the rites, we could be bound once more.”

“I am bound to protect her.”

“You are not any more.”

Maeryl flared her neck frills, an instinct more than an intent, but the message was clear. “I am bound to protect her.”

“And I am bound to end the Oaths.”

Maeryl prepared for him to strike, but that did not protect her. She lunged forward like a viper, closing the distance between them in a blink, wrapping her jaws around his neck. But even as she sank her teeth into his neck, she felt his claws dig into her side. Rynwyld tore into Maeryl. He shredded her wing and ripped at her scales and flesh, cutting deeper than any knight’s sword. The pain blurred her vision. Every thought in her mind told her to flee, but Maeryl did not let go. Even as Rynwyld clawed and shook, she kept her jaw locked on his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter as the red dragon’s strength waned.

Eventually, Maeryl stood over Rynwyld’s corpse, red blood dripping from her jaws and the gouges on her chest and stomach. One wing hung limply at her side, now little more than scraps of bloodsoaked skin around bone.. Every breath sent a new wave of pain through her body. Her thoughts were sluggish. Maeryl knew she was not far from joining Rynwyld in death.

But she still had one promise to fulfill.

Night settled in the mountains by the time Maeryl crawled back to the castle. Without her wings, the journey took longer than she expected, and she had to stop and rest often. When she finally crawled over the castle walls, she found Marianne waiting for her in the courtyard, pacing impatiently. The princess turned to her with anger in her eyes, but on seeing Maeryl’s fragile state, her face softened and tears she struggled to contain flooded out.

“Maeryl, what happened?” Marianne exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

The dragon collapsed to the ground, closing her eyes and releasing a long sigh. She felt the princess wrap her arms around her neck. Normally the embrace would be comforting, but Maeryl felt a sharp pain shoot through her neck. The dragon said nothing.

“I will be fine, Princess,” Maeryl said. “I only need a little rest. But first, I must fulfill our agreement. I promised I told you why I stayed in Alamor. I will warn you, it is not a happy story.”

“Maeryl, you don’t need to.”

“I do. When I was a young dragon, there was a beautiful woman, the daughter of a powerful king. My kind lived on the outskirts of Alamor, content to hunt on the borders between empires, never concerning ourselves with human affairs. Yet when I saw the princess, I could not resist. I ventured down from my mountain. It was short-sighted. The kingdom knights nearly killed me.

“I was saved by the princess. She trusted me when I said I meant no harm and listened to me. She was kind to me. I will not bore you with the details, Princess, but I fell in love.” Maeryl fell silent for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I wish this could be a happy story. I failed her. I failed her father. Her brother was crowned king. In my grief, I betrayed my own kind to him and bound us to servitude. I failed him too. You know the rest from there.”

Maeryl did not open her eyes, but she felt the princess pull away. She could visualize how Marianne’s face scrunched as she pieced together the information with dawning realization. “So the Dragon Oaths-”

“Are my fault,” Maerfyl finished. “When the Oath King died, I was truly alone for the first time. Many of my kin fled and those who stayed would not speak to me. I would have lived the rest of my life in isolation had I not sworn allegiance to your family. That is the only promise I have not not broken. And here, now, I must confess I lied to you.”

Maeryl forced herself to open her eyes. Painful needles pricked her mind as she tried to focus, meeting the princess confused stare with her own sorrowful gaze.

“I was not asked to bring you here by your father. Nor was I bound to keep you here until a worthy knight rescued you. That was a story I devised. You were so young then, I thought you would believe it.”

A flurry of emotions crossed Marianne’s face, but she settled on one, distancing herself from the dragon with narrowed eyes. As much as she struggled to read human emotions, Maeryl recognized the quiet anger.

“Who?” the princess asked.

“There was a war. Alamor was losing.”

“Who bound you to the Oath?”

Maeryl let out a sigh. “No one.”

“No one?” Marianne repeated. “You chose to keep me prisoner here?”

“I was not bound by a Dragon Oath, but I was bound - I am bound by loyalty. An oath of my own making. Your parents knew the war would eventually reach the heart of the kingdom. Your mother asked me to keep you safe. I took you here. We didn’t want to frighten you, so I created the story.”

“You hid the truth and let me believe my father abandoned me to a dragon? Kept me here alone.” Marianne’s anger suddenly faded. Her voice softened. “That’s not completely untrue, is it? If my father cared, he would have sent Rynwyld after me. You let me believe I was nothing more than a prize to be won by some knight. Maybe that is what you thought of me afterall.”

“That was not the intent.”

“Intent or not, Maeryl, that is what it felt like. We grew so close. If you weren’t bound into deception, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“You must believe I never meant to hurt you.”

“Believe you?” Marianne spat. “You lied to me for years! You could have told me at any point what you were doing. About the war? You… Oh God, why tell me now? Why after all this time?”

The dragon averted her gaze. She spoke softly. “I am sorry, Marianne.”

The princess burst into tears. Grief took her and she collapsed to the floor. She didn’t need Maeryl to clarify and the dragon felt no need to expand the point. Alamor was no more. Her parents were no more. She had been isolated in the mountains for years but now, for the first time, she was truly alone.

Marianne couldn’t tell how long she cried. Her body ran out of tears before she finished and her heart hadn’t stopped hurting. Maeryl had not moved from her spot. Marianne could hear the dragon’s laboured breaths and realized her wounds still bled. Worse, a thin layer of snow covered the dragon. The warmth that protected her was gone.

Marianne felt a second wave of sadness surge through her. She could no longer cry, but the darkness that always lingered in her mind overtook her in full force. Her resentment did not fade, but neither did her grief. Slowly, Marianne moved closer to Maeryl, leaning her head on the great dragon’s chest, listening to her gently beating heart.

“Maeryl,” she whispered, “are you dying?”

The dragon ignored the question. “Princess, you owe me nothing, not after all I’ve done, but may I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“Would you read to me? Any book would do, I just want to hear your voice.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

Maeryl curled around Marianne as she had often done. She could not understand the words - she was far too tired - but she found comfort in the princess’ voice. The great green dragon closed her eyes. Her wounds no longer hurt. The cold wind no longer stung her flesh. When she woke in the morning, she would take the princess to another shore, leaving behind a kingdom that no longer existed. She had bound her life to Alamor. Now she was free.

Marianne left the castle when morning came. As she descended the mountain, she expected to see the dragon descend from the sky, barring her escape from her prison. She hoped to see her friend. But Maeryl never came. She never would.

The princess was alone.

#short story #the dragon queen #this one got away from me a ton so i delayed posting #until it was mostly coherent #max trailer #thats a joke just for me

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crossbowking · 2 years

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My Trip to Senoia, GA :)

I know this is super delayed (what’s new when it comes to my page lmao) but I’d love to share some pictures from my trip to Senoia/visiting some of the sets used for filming TWD!

(I’m going to attach the ‘Read More’ tab so I don’t clutter anyone’s feed lol Tumblr also limits posts to only 10 images so I’ll just do a few!)

SO! Senoia, GA (aka Woodbury circa season 3) is actually a real-life, functioning, historical town!

It’s honestly so cute and I swear, it really feels like you’ve been transported back to Woodbury the minute you arrive (minus the zombies/apocalyptic wasteland vibes lol)

We also saw the “pudding house” on the tour! After the prison falls and Rick and Carl are on their own, Carl finds a big ole can of chocolate pudding and eats it on the roof of this house! (Fun Fact: recently, the actual homeowners were away on vacation and a couple of TWD fans broke into their house and took pictures on the roof, wanting to recreate the scene…the homeowners had no idea this happened until they saw a picture pop up online…the home is now for sale for obvious reasons lol)

The next location was the “Claimers House”! This was where we were first introduced to that group — ya know, when Rick strangled one to death in the bathroom and escaped out the window? That little porch area on the left side is where Joe was sitting and Rick was hiding behind! Eek! So cool!

Then we have the long stretch of railroad that was filmed while the group was en route to Terminus! (Another fun fact: the bridge pictured was built into the tunnel that Glenn and Maggie reunite in!)

Next, we have the alleyway Eugene was featured in during season 11! (It’s super cool how they still used little areas of Senoia for later seasons!)

And then…ALEXANDRIA.

By far my favorite location! Standing right outside the walls was…surreal? I don’t even know how to describe it but I did shed a tear or two lmao (NO SHAME, IT’S MY HAPPY PLACE) I feel like a lot of my stories are set in Alexandria so seeing it come to life was just oh so beautiful.

AND…the front gates of Alexandria! Because it’s featured so much in the show (and real people actually live in these condos) there’s a blockade at the end of the street so here’s a picture from pretty far away lol (still so surreal!)

Another place we saw was where they filmed “Here’s Negan” (AKA Negan and Lucille’s home pre-apocalypse!) As well as the garage they filmed Andrea’s death scene in/when Maggie and Glenn were kidnapped by Merle and held at Woodbury. There were a few other little locations/fun behind the scenes info we got that I didn’t snag any pictures of but all in all, such an amazing tour!

In Senoia, there’s also a “TWD Museum” with tons of merchandise! PLUS…real props used in the show!!! Here are just a few!

Anywho, that’s pretty much it! If anyone has ever gone to Senoia, I’d love to hear about your experience! And if you haven’t, I highly recommend it! I had the best time being immersed in my all-time favorite world.

Lastly, although I was unable to meet Norman Reedus at the convention due to his cancellation, I did meet someone else…

MR. DARYL DIXON, HIMSELF.

HAHA okay, kidding, but I couldn’t resist a quick photo op lol anywho, that’s all! Thanks for joining me on this trip down memory lane! Hope you enjoyed💛

#twd #the walking dead #crossbowking #senoia #twd tour #daryl dixon

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yoonia · 3 years

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All Fervent Manner [M]

➬ Title | All Fervent Manner

➬ Summary | He is a man of class, but also a man with secrets. And he has no qualms in giving you the entire universe if you had asked him to. At least, those are the exact words he had given you then. But as time passes, you cannot help but notice that no matter how fierce he seems to love you, he always appears to be walking on eggshells. Perhaps it is your duty to release him from his binds. If only you just know how.

↳ Pairings | Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Established Relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | Sexual tension, a bit of an age gap (OC is 24 and Jimin is 32), dirty talk, intense foreplay, mentions of spanking, light bondage/restrictions, deep throat, cum eating, fingering (f receiving), oral sex/pussy eating, praise kink, clothed foreplay, dry humping, breast play, biting, unprotected sex, rough sex, orgasm control (orgasm denial/delay), mirror sex, multiple orgasms (with forced orgasm involved), aftercare.

↳ Word count | 19,7k words

↳ Music Companion | Come Away With Me - Norah Jones

➬ Cross post | AO3

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @opaljm. | This was originally meant to be posted on Jimin’s birthday, but my block got in the way that I couldn’t finish this one on time. I’m so sorry for the long wait. I hope you’ll enjoy this one. I might come back to this to do a more proper editing in the future so I’m sorry if there’s a ton of mistakes in there. | Taglist: @jeonmisha, @illicitjams

There is something surreal about seeing him in this light.

Up close and personal. So close, you can make out every single expression that he makes whenever he speaks. The air around him seems to crackle with every delicate movement he makes, his energy rippling in the air to summon everyone’s attention on him, including yours.

But what makes it even more surreal is the fact that even when he has everyone’s eyes on him, vying for his attention as they all hope to have at least a single glance of acknowledgement from Jimin, he only has his eyes on you.

The same way he is doing it to you now, giving you his rapt attention even when you are chatting about something so trivial—your daily routines, the short encounter you had earlier today with Mr. Rasheed from next door, a simple joke shared by one of your co-workers at the office today—between sipping wine and savouring your meal. His gaze is so intense that people may think you are talking about world peace or other life altering matters, and most possibly completely oblivious to how his eyes are making you feel like you are floating in the air while being rooted in place at the same time.

That is just what Park Jimin does to you.

Jimin always knows how to make your heart flutter and your skin flush without having to do so much. He makes you feel special, cherished, as though you are the only thing that matters to him right in this moment.

And it is not just about the expensive restaurants and the pretty places he takes you to—just like this fancy place where you are currently dining with him, where you are surrounded with bright chandeliers, soft music humming through the room with other exquisite looking guests sitting around you on their own tables, and shiny silver tablewares set over the silky table mats—or the lavish gifts that he gives you between each dates.

It is simply him. Just being with him is enough to make it all worthwhile, to have him as your companion and to enjoy the gentle way he treats you when you are together. You just love how he always listens to you carefully in the way that shows just how much he truly cares about you. You always take in delight on how his eyes could easily find you whether you are near or even when you are standing right across the room. As you reach out to your glass of wine in the middle of the conversation, Jimin’s eyes quickly follow your move—from the way your fingers are wrapped around the tall glass to when you bring it to your lips, before his eyes find yours again and your gazes connect to each other so easily as if he is meant to never look away.

Sometimes, when something like this happens, when your gazes meet each other this way, you would find your mind wandering wildly to the past.

You cannot help it, really, when it had always felt like a dream come true to be the center of his attention that you would, at times, feel the need to pinch your own skin just to let you know that this is real.

Once, many years ago, when you were just a girl struggling to finish college and trying to escape your father’s shadows while Jimin had already become his apprentice and was rising to be his own person, you had already known him. You have seen him even before you finally met him in person, even if it were through other people’s eyes. You remember seeing his face everywhere, in the magazines, all over the news, posters planted through campus that had been printed with his achievements as some sort of a motivation for all the students in your faculty who wanted to be like him—a young, rising new entrepreneur who seemed to have things going on for him.

He was almost always at your father’s company events, those which you had avoided for years despite your father’s best effort of getting you to come just so he could get you involved in his business. So you had definitely seen him through the pictures taken from said events, since your father had always come home to brag about them with the rest of the family.

There were times over the years when you would look at his pictures, wondering if there would ever be a time when you could find anyone who would look at you the way he did to all the women he was pictured with. Sometimes, you would even picture yourself in those women’s shoes, imagining how it would be like if he had looked at you the same. In those pictures, he seemed to have given them his undivided attention in a way that had made your chest feel constricted and tight with something that was completely foreign. It was jealousy, your roommate had told you then, though you weren’t quite sure if you had developed your silly little crush on him at the time. Until you began seeing boys your age, either the smart ones from your class or the most popular ones on campus, and you started comparing each and one of them to Jimin.

As the unidentified crush continued to grow, you began to pay more attention into his photos, to the expressions that he made in them. You began to wonder what may have been going on in his mind as he stood there with his dates, their dainty hands wrapped around his arm as they posed together. His dates had all been beautiful, gorgeous even, and mostly elegant. Most of the women appeared by his side had always been those from the higher class—models, celebrities, socialites, some were even heiresses to rich families. But what you wanted to know most was what Jimin may have seen in them.

Was it their looks? Their dresses—that seemed like they would have cost a fortune? Or was there something they shared privately that had him looking at them so endearingly?

You never knew the answer to those questions, nor have you ever thought about them again until now, as you distractedly look over to him. When you realise that the look that Jimin gives you had been different compared to what you have seen then. His gaze is often more intense, deeper, enough to pull you closer to him and have your heart fluttering wildly you never know how to control them.

Jimin reaches out to hold your hand, then begins to brush his thumb gently on your knuckles, pulling you out of your reverie and bringing you back to him. “Where were you just now?” he questions you. “You seem lost in thinking.”

“Oh, it’s nothing important,” you answer him, holding back from letting him know that he was the one who had been in your mind.

Jimin only chuckles, yet he brings your hand to his lips. He begins kissing your knuckles, pressing his lips slowly to each one, while his eyes never stray away from you.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks you, though the words nearly fail to sink in when you are too distracted with the way he is brushing his lips on your knuckles.

You bite your lips, holding back the smile that is insisting to grow. “You have. About over a dozen times,” you whisper. You simply cannot deny the way your body is reacting to him. Not when he is treating you like this—teasing you so coyly but still being a gentlemen at it.

“Then I’m saying it again. You look beautiful,” he says. Then he turns your hand so that your palm is facing upward, before he once again brings it to his lips. This time, he plants a kiss right at the center of your palm, before moving to your wrist, where his lips linger.

Right at this moment, everything around you simply fades. Nothing else seems to matter, just as long as you are with him and you are the only one he is staring at.

Once again, your mind flies back to a different moment in the past. Though it doesn’t wander far, just to a night some time a month ago when you were being defiant, trying to brush it off when he complimented you. He had told you that you looked beautiful in your new red dress, yet you simply hid your face and denied it, something that he clearly didn’t enjoy having. In turn, he pulled you close to his side, his arm felt tight around your waist and the ghost of his lips felt hot on the nape of your neck when he whispered into your hair,

‘Need I spank that pretty little ass of yours to make sure that you are going to listen to me?’

You had brushed it off as a joke then, though you were secretly hiding the fact that his crude words had made you feel hot inside. It was something new, something interesting. But what more surprising about it was the fact that you—liked it. Actually liked it.

Loved it, in fact, since you found your panties soaked and your core dripping wet when you pictured him placing you across his lap and his delicate hands spanking you until your skin would burn. The same way you are feeling how your lower area are growing slick and wet right this moment simply for thinking about that moment.

But he must have misread the bashful smile that came upon you back then as apprehensiveness, because he had kept his words to himself ever since, and you haven’t had him teasing you in such a way again even when you had been secretly waiting—and sometimes even prompting—him to.

You simply cannot help but feel curious. Mostly wondering if he would ever truly bring any of it into reality, or he had simply said those things as a joke.

There is no denying that Jimin has multiple layers in him that he had only been peeling off one at a time ever since he began dating you, and there is still a part of him that he keeps hidden. You can feel it when he closes up, as if revealing the deeper part of him could scare you away. But the undying need to know more about your lover and have him reveal his secret has been clawing worse on you ever since.

“You’re being too sweet to me,” you murmur softly with your cheeks flaming hot, but you make no move to pull your hand away from his gentle grip. Your fingers tingle where he is touching you, giving you the sense of being pulled into him stronger than ever before.

“That’s not sweetness. It’s the truth,” he says with a chuckle, giving you one last kiss at the back of your hand, and then on your wrist, before finally letting you go. “Finish your meal so I can ask them to bring in the dessert.”

His words bring a smile to your face. You love it when he takes control. His commanding tone and confidence would have raised a brow if it had come from somebody else. But when it comes from him, especially when he is doing so with a lazy smile growing on his face, there is no denying the way your body flutters warmly to it.

“What are you ordering me?” you ask him as you washes off your palate with your wine. Jimin has been full of surprises lately, just like this date that had come out of nowhere in the middle of the week instead of the usual weekend, and he leaves you constantly asking just what else he has planned for you to knock you off of your feet.

Instead of answering, Jimin merely gives you a smile, before falling into a momentary silence as if he is trying to raise the tension in the air. “Something I think you’d love.”

You raise a brow just as he looks over your shoulder, nodding at the waiter who no doubt has been standing close by. It feels like only moments have passed by before your table is cleared, the waiters working rhythmically to place an entire set up of dessert plates that you have never seen being presented in this particular restaurant before.

A bowl of chocolate fondue with a few small plates of fresh fruits and cakes. All set up similarly to the one you have seen months ago, on the night when you first met Jimin. One that you had enjoyed together, choosing which sweets or fruits to dip into the chocolate while chatting like old friends in the middle of a party.

“You remember,” you muse at the sight of your favourite sweet dessert before looking up to him, seeing him smiling wide, taking pride in the reaction you are giving him.

“Always.”

Despite the warmth shared during dinner, the drive back from the restaurant to your place is silent.

And there is no one else to blame for the rising tension but yourself.

Jimin had always been quite unpredictable when it comes to end of the night, and it leaves you with questions and anticipations whenever the date is almost over, and you are always left wondering just what is going to happen later as he drops you off at your place.

Jimin had always taken his time when it comes to getting what he wants. It took him weeks to finally ask you out in the first place. Then, after you began dating officially, he had waited a whole month before he finally kissed your lips.

On the first date, Jimin could barely hold your hand even as he walked beside you through the cafes downtown in the hunt for your favourite dessert. It wasn’t until you reached the sidewalk where people were rushing off to different places to enjoy the night when he finally reached out to you. It took both in fear of losing you in the crowd and the fear of having you bumping into people for him to do so, yet he had not only grab your hand but wrapped his arm around your waist protectively. And he kept it there until the night ended.

It had been a pleasant night for both of you, giving you the chance to open up and to get to know him a lot better. At the end of the night, he walked you to your door, looking painfully perfect as he looked at you with fondness and care. He was gentle when he spoke, completely oblivious to the racing heartbeat inside your chest.

You had waited to have him lean in, to have him pressing his lips on yours, only to see him hesitate for a fraction of a moment, before you felt his lips on the top of your head.

He continued to behave as a gentleman throughout the next few dates, showing you nothing else but patience and care. While his gentleness has been the one that had captivated you in the first place, it had somehow began to feel like barrier when you think of it as a reason why he keeps holding back while you have been ready to have more.

No matter how well the nights you have spent with him had ended, he had always tamed those moments down when he bid you goodnight right at the front door of your apartment with a gentle, and terribly too innocent kisses, either he would plant the kiss on your forehead, your cheeks, or at the top of your head.

At some point in time, you began to wonder if he had truly been feeling all the same things you had for him. If he had truly been attracted to you and seen you more than just an older colleague’s daughter. Sometimes, he would even make you feel like he was treating you more as a sister than a lover. The self doubt and insecurities it brought you had only made you feel even more subconscious during one of those nights you shared with him until you couldn’t take anymore. It finally came to a point where you grew too impatient, and most certainly devastated, to think that perhaps the feelings you have had for Jimin has not exactly been mutual.

“Jimin, do you really like me?” you asked him one night after a date, moments after he had kissed your forehead and right when he was just about to turn away, leaving you at your door the way he usually would.

“What do you mean?” he asked you, frowning slightly and obviously taken back at how you were suddenly questioning him.

You had been asking yourself this and wondering about it throughout the whole night. But the moment you met his deep gaze, every word you had wanted to speak to him about completely evaporated from your brain.

Until he had his hands resting on your upper arm, as if holding you in a kept distance while he looked at your face more closely, searching for his answer there. It was his delicate touch that put your insecurities back on, when he made you feel like you were no different than a fragile thing he was too afraid to touch, to hold too tight. With a pout and a pure disdain in your heart, you let everything that had been troubling you to flow right out of your lips.

“I like you, Jimin. I like you a lot,” you began to speak, though your voice came out as a hesitant whisper and your face was burning so hot that you had to look down to avoid his gaze.

Perhaps saying ‘like’ would be taking things too lightly, because you were beginning to feel a lot deeper for him during these few months of dating him. But that was the reason why you had to speak now, before you would fall too deeper in love and it would hurt you even more to know that he didn’t feel the same.

“Sometimes I feel like you only see me like a little sister. You have always been nice to me, but—”

But you cannot help to think that maybe he was only with you out of pity. Maybe he had asked you out because of your father. Maybe—there were a lot of ‘maybe’s and ‘what if’s in your mind that had kept troubling you, messing up with your thoughts of him and filling you with doubts.

Would it be wrong to question just why he never wanted to kiss you?

Would it be wrong to ask for more?

Would it be wrong to question his feelings for you?

When you finally lifted your face to look at him again, he had a deep frown on his face. Either he was able to read your mind or you were wondering about those things out loud, because the next thing he gave you was a question, “Is that how you think of me? Is that really how you feel?”

He sounded rather baffled as he spoke, and a bit terrified as well that you almost regretted ever bringing it up. Yet he still didn’t let go of you. Keeping your head down once more, you slowly moved your head to a nod.

He reached out to touch your chin, bringing your eyes back to him again as he answered you. “Baby, look at me—” he said, and you had no other choice but to look into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have feelings for you. Do you have any idea how much I’ve been thinking about you? How I fantasied about kissing you, holding you, in all times I could? That’s the only reason why I asked to see you tonight, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I couldn’t wait until this weekend to see you.”

The revelation had you looking at him with wide eyes. The fact that he had also been thinking about you when you were apart was still hard to believe. But there was no way you could deny it when he was looking at you the way he did—with glassy eyes and a sheepish smile. “Really?”

Jimin nodded slowly. “It’s driving me nuts that I couldn’t even focus on work,” he chuckled, looking slightly embarrassed upon admitting this while you were left completely speechless. You felt his thumb brushing gently on your cheek, his eyes looking down on your lips. “You cannot possibly believe that I had never thought about kissing you. Because that’s the only thing I could think of whenever you are close to me.”

“What—?”

And then he was suddenly kissing you, and it was every bit as good as how you had imagined it would. Perhaps way better than what you have pictured in your head, since reality had always found its way to prevail over your bland imagination.

His soft lips felt heavenly on yours, something that you soon found to be one of the most profound qualities that you love from him. And even though the list of the things you love from him is quite long, his kiss would remain to be placed at the top spot of your favourite things in life and it becomes the one that you think about at night before you fall asleep.

You felt his smile growing in the kiss, just like how you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. In that magical moment, it felt like every weight you had been carrying was lifted. All the insecurities faded when he pulled you tight to his chest and deepened the kiss. His arm was strong enough to hold you up when you started to sway, his warm kiss lightened up the sparks of warmth within you until you felt like you were melting in his arms.

When you both pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks were flaming hot and the smile you shared with him seemed like they wouldn’t easily fade. He looked just as bashful as you felt when he looked at you, except that there was something else that had been lifted between you, like a new page had been flipped and there was a new light rising between the two of you.

It was at the fourth month of your relationship when Jimin showed you another side of him that you weren’t quite familiar with, revealing another layer of himself that you had been dying to uncover.

It had happened at your parents’ holiday dinner event, the annual gathering they had always held for years where they invite close friends and colleagues to celebrate together. At one part of the night, not too long after dessert had been served and taken, Jimin had taken you away into hiding. He had found a room that was quite far away from the dining area, one that was kept dark and secluded, but surprisingly unlocked.

He took you to venture deep inside into the dark room, before pinning you against the farthest side of the wall, both your wrists locked over your head under his tight grip. In a matter of moments, he had his lips on yours, devouring you until you were left breathless and your lips swollen, before his kisses moved down to the sensitive parts of your neck, along the column of your throat, while his other hand—the one that was not holding you up to the wall—ran down your waist, your hips, touching you where you would shiver and tremble while needing more.

At some point, he had slipped one leg between your parted thighs, hiking the hem of your dress up to your hips until you could settle down right on top of his toned thigh. As the kiss grew deeper, your hips began to move, swivelling and pressing down against him. You were rubbing your clothed heat along his thigh while he rubbed his hips against yours, and when your bodies moved in tune with one another, there was no stopping it as the pleasure continued to rise, dancing and swirling from your center and spreading wide all over your body.

He held his gaze on yours when you fell apart, falling into his chest while the pulsing of your climax coursed through you. Then he held you up in his arms right after, pressing you tightly against his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat pacing steadily fast against yours. The kisses he gave you were soft and gentle, and he was patient as he waited until you came down from your high. Your thighs were still trembling when he pulled you out of the room, taking you back into the party as if nothing had happened. Though the small smile that kept secretly slipping from him had shown you just how much he had noticed your body still humming with your release. And the pride in his eyes stayed all night for knowing that he was the one who gave you the flush on your skin and soft ragged breathing you kept trying to hide as you conversed with your parents.

“I’m sorry if I went out of line back there,” “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night long and I just couldn’t stop myself.”

But there was nothing about it that you didn’t approve of. In fact, you have thoroughly enjoyed it. But your words failed you when you just had no idea what to say.

I enjoyed it.

I want you to do it again.

You wanted so badly to let him know what you wanted and what you loved, yet the only thing that you ended up giving him was nothing more but a gentle kiss right on his jaw, before finally answering him with, “You weren’t out of line. I feel safe when I’m with you.”

He was visibly pleased and relieved to hear your words then, making you think for a moment that you were finally getting another progress happening between you and he was opening up to you more. Only that once the moment had passed, you have yet to see Jimin in the same light no matter how badly you wanted it to happen.

The car moving to a curve at the turnover shakes you out of your wandering thoughts, bringing you back to this moment—sitting beside Jimin as he drives you back home. He is still driving calmly, completely oblivious to the things that had been running through your head, while you are trying to subtly shift in your seat. As always, the thought of what happened that night at your parents’ house quickly progresses inward. The area between your legs are beginning to pulse at the memory that you have to press your thighs together to hide it. The last thing you ever want is to have him catching you getting hot over something that he may not ever going to bring up again.

Often times, what you feel to the memory has always been defeated by the things that had come right after. Because after that night, Jimin had took another step backwards, closing himself yet again. He had always been a gentleman, and you had always loved him for it. But there is no denying that you want more. Not that his gentleness has not been enough, it is just that you have a certain need that needs further fulfilment and you have only wanted it for him to be the one to fill it.

Turning to him, watching the lights from outside flashing over his beautiful face, you silently make a vow to find away to get him get out of his shells. From all the small things that had happened and what he had shown you, you know that he also has a few needs that he is trying to bury deep inside. And you know that if you want to love him properly, you want to love every part of him equally, even the darkness that he is trying so hard to shield from you. As the car slowly comes closer to your apartment building, so close to home, a new determination comes into your mind as you think of ways to have him opening himself to you, to have him show you all his wants and needs. As he gives a quick glance to look at your face when he stops right at the last red light before your home, you are determined that if he cannot show you what he desires the most, then you are the one who is going to show him first.

Just like always, Jimin insists to walk you up to your door.

He holds your hand all the way from the lobby and the entire elevator trip climbing the couple of floors up, entwining your hands together with his as if he is afraid that you might slip away. Your heartbeat continues to pound wildly inside your chest the closer you are to arrive home, but it settles down some right the moment you are standing at your door, leaning back against it while you are facing him. He still yet to release your hands, keeping them still entwined together in his gentle hands and with his eyes still locked on your face.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him after he leans in to give you a chaste kiss, making sure that you speak first before he ever gets a chance to bid you goodnight and walk away.

On your previous dates, Jimin had always seemed hesitant about accepting your invitation. At times, he would take a moment before refusing. Other times, he would simply kiss your lips tenderly before giving you a regretful look as he says goodnight and watches you walk through the door.

This time, however, he keeps his forehead pressing on yours, giving you no sign of leaving. Then he kisses you one more time, smiling tenderly when he finally answers,

“Of course. I would love to.”

Biting your lips, you hold back the shock from showing itself and focus solely in putting the key through the lock and opening the door. Taking one step after the other as you walk into the threshold feels like an arduous task with him following close behind you. “Do you want anything to drink? I have some tea and coffee if you want. Unless you want some more wine?”

Jimin raises his brows. “A cup of tea would be lovely. I probably shouldn’t be driving home after wine.”

The moment he mentions about going home, you feel a little hint of your disappointment creeping up on you. But you force it down and muster a smile, hiding the fact that you wish so badly to be able to convince him to stay. “A cup of hot tea coming up. I only have jasmine, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

Your apartment has an open space as its living area, with the kitchen overlooking the main living room and no walls in between. So while you are at your kitchen, waiting for the water to boil and preparing to serve the tea for your boyfriend, you can see him moving through the living room, examining everything as if he is looking through your home for the first time.

He looks a bit out of place, standing there with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. All of a sudden, your apartment looks a bit too small for the two of you together. Or perhaps his presence is much too big for your small home. He takes his time to look around, walking slowly from the large window looking out the river in the distance and then making his way to the bookshelves to look at your collection, before stopping at the nearest drawers where you place some of your old photos and memorabilia on display.

You watch how his smile subtly grows as he finds the collection of photos taken at the night of your recital, and you are suddenly brought back to that night, on the night when you were first introduced to Jimin.

You may have known about him for a long time already when it happened, but that first night was a moment that you would definitely remember until the end of time.

It was one of your earliest recitals, but one that was held after your father had begun to accept the fact that music was your passion, not business, so he had been attending your shows to show his undying support. It was rare for him to invite anyone to a private event, even if he had been gushing praises about you with the people he knew. That night, he had decided to invite a few of his staff and colleagues to brag about you, and of course, Jimin had come along.

Jimin had been sweet and kind, and mostly polite. But his gaze was intense the moment he saw you. It had turned your skin warm and your heartbeat racing the way it never had before.

His gaze only deepened when he took your hand, kissing the knuckles confidently that you forgot that your father was still standing there with you.

Jimin kept to your side throughout the whole night, even as your father got busy in tending to other guests who had come to the event through his invitation. His presence made you feel wanted, like you were the center of the attention for once.

The night was followed with a small party, which many of your father’s guests had chosen to stay and join in for some extra champagne and some brief conversation with your father. Jimin had stayed for the event and he managed to find you again once both of you managed to slip away from your father’s attention. He was kind to you as he came and talked to you, while you were too dumbstruck to strike any smart conversation in return. Your fingers twitch at your side, itching to slap at your own face just to make sure it was not a dream. Because he was talking you.

If that had surprised you enough, he had even asked you for a dance.

The slow dance had been nothing else but magical. He was smooth when he took your hand in his, but his grip was firm around your waist as he led the dance. You were mesmerised at how he expertly pulled you along with him to move in tune with his careful steps. He treated you with the outmost care even as he glided through the dance floor, taking you with him to be one with the music. Everything around you and everyone else in the room seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you together, the same way he still makes you feel even to this day. It was during that night, you would sometime realise, that he had you completely swooned, turning you into a foolish girl who would later dream of him at night in your bed.

The next time you met him, he had asked you out for coffee, then the day after, lunch, with the innocent excuse of showing you just where he would find his private moment between his most hectic hours. Then there was a few accidental meetings between you and Jimin at your father’s office, company events, until he admitted that he had been deliberately making chances to see you again until the day he finally asked you out officially as his girlfriend.

If there is one thing that you have learned about Jimin ever since you started dating him, is that he chooses to take things a step at a time instead of diving right in, doing things with elaborate planning and letting things flow into place until the moment he gets to where he wants to be.

Just like slow dancing.

Five months into dating Jimin, and you already feel too much even before you could go any further than first to second base. At one point, it puts you in so much ease to have him taking things slow. But the wait is starting to become extremely hard to deal with when the sparks between you has only been growing stronger the more time continues to pass by. That, and the fact that while Jimin still avoids crossing the line, it has never stopped him from being overly affectionate to you, as he continues making his subtle moves to make you go hot and restless.

From his subtle touches and gentle kisses, to his smouldering gaze which has been both a tease and pure torture on your side. Frustrating you enough to have your whole body electrified with desire no matter what he does to you.

Maybe you just need to get laid, your inner voice scolds you each time you react this way to him.

The sound of the boiling water stops your thoughts from going too far into the gutter. Your eyes instantly find Jimin, still looking through the photos and the books you have laid all over the place, oblivious to your trail of thoughts, much to your relief. As you continue to distract yourself with the task in hand, you chastise yourself—the same way you always do whenever your mind wanders off to unnecessary things, like picturing yourself doing the nasty with Jimin—and remind yourself of all the things that you have been repeating in your mind.

It would be better to move things in his pace, your conscience speaks wisely as if it is another being living inside you. It would give you enough time to enjoy his company before you get intimate and everything falls apart, you add, when you realise that no matter how badly you want things to progress between you and Jimin, you are not completely prepared for things to actually go to that point.

It is not that you are completely inexperienced, for you have had sex before and you have had a few experiences to be intimate with someone in the past. It is just that all the tryst that you had experienced with your exes or your flings so far had been—quite dull.

You had been waiting for passion, for more fire, in not just your love life, but also in bed. But those you have ever been with pretty much—inadequate, on that part. Most of them have been plain, vanilla, without being able to offer anything that could stir your whole nerve ending awake. Not that there is anything wrong with being vanilla. It is just that nobody could ever understand your need to have more.

And to make it worse, you could never bring it up without having someone looking at you with pure repulsion in their eyes. Even your ex had harassed you once on the lack of orgasms when you were still together, when he called you abnormal, and worse yet, depraved, simply because you were not getting off with him. But in the end, you had to finally accept the fact that all the straightforward, all-vanilla sex—everything that was considered “normal”—was not quite working out for you.

It took some time for you to understand what was wrong with you, only to know that there was nothing truly wrong with you at all. Eventually, you just find that you simply want more adventure, something more thrilling other than a simple vanilla sex.

Ever since you began to understand your needs better, you had begun to relish it instead of shying away from the knowledge, to finally begin to understand yourself better by admitting to it, and you have begun to research more to actually know exactly what you need. There had been a natural need within you to be controlled, to be taken care of. Something that is quite the opposite to how you are in your regular life, where you had always been independent, focal, and the last thing you ever wanted was to be forced to lead things even while you are in bed with someone. Yet you had never met anyone that could fulfil your needs, until Jimin lightened up your senses like fireworks the night he stole you away from your father’s party. Though ever since he has yet to bring it up again, you have not been sure if it had really been something that he would enjoy doing with you, which had become the reason why you had felt the need to hamper things down. And it is only recently when Jimin manages to bring them all up again through his advances, making every single sense in your body lights up so easily even without realising it happening.

You have enjoyed every single moment he had shared with you and making you feel alive, to make you feel like things would work so perfectly with him. The way your body reacts to whenever Jimin commands you, when he takes control, everything tells you that it would be easy for you to submit yourself to him. But would he dare take the lead?

Each time you try to talk about it, your lips would instantly clam up. Afraid of what he may think of you if you had opened up. And he certainly had not made it any easier for you when he would sometimes treat you like you are made of glass.

Jimin stops perusing your things as he finds your stereo set at the corner of the room. He looks up to you with a smile, tilting his head to it with a question, “May I?”

“Of course,” you answer him immediately, figuring that perhaps having some music on would serve as the perfect distraction. If not, it may help ease down your nerves a bit more.

While you try your best to focus more on finishing making the tea, you find your eyes keep going back to him, watching his fingers setting up the device then scrolling through his phone to find something to play as he waits for you. The sight of his delicate fingers has your mind wandering, your body tingles as it remembers what those fingers could do to you and you wonder what else he would have to offer.

Would those hands remain gentle on your body when he touches you? Or would he claim you possessively the same way he did those many weeks ago?

But how are you supposed to let someone with so much grace and elegance know about your needs? How would you be able to express yourself without making him think you are some kind of wanton woman before sending him running far away?

Shaking your thoughts away, you manage to finish preparing the tea and plating some homemade cookies that you know he likes. He glances your way as you make your way to him with the tray in your hands, and with a smile on his face, he fumbles with the volume button, allowing you to hear the song he has playing from the speakers better.

Come Away With Me by Norah Jones comes up, drawing some intense flutter in your belly that you hurriedly place the tray down on the table before your trembling hands would drop everything to the floor.

As you look up at Jimin, he smiles tenderly and holds out his hand to you. “May I have this dance?”

“Absolutely.” Your voice sounds hoarse as you give him your answer. You feel slightly light-headed when you give him your hand, and he smoothly pulls you to him, holding you possessively close. You entwine your arms around his neck, relishing the hard plane of his chest and his warmth, the strong beat of his heart, and the deep, smouldering gaze radiating from his eyes.

Your body turns warm as you move slowly in his arms in the middle of your small living room, the song and the way he is looking at you through the dance takes you back to that night, to the first night he asked you for a slow dance. It was the same song that was playing in that party and he is leading the dance the same way he did then. The only difference is that you are not wearing the silly lacy dress that you had worn back then.

“You remember.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, sounding incredulous. He slowly stops just as the song ends, but he doesn’t let you go. With both hands now framing your face, he shakes his head slowly, still chuckling with disbelief. It takes a second before you realise that he is getting closer, and your breath catches in your throat merely seconds before his lips brush up against yours.

“I remember everything from that night.” His voice comes as a gruff whisper that sets off more fireworks inside you, and you can barely speak when you question him,

“Really? What else do you remember?”

“I remember how shy you looked when your Dad introduced you to me. You almost couldn’t look at me when we danced.”

Your face feels warm when you remember how you reacted to him that night. You had denied the existence of your secret crush for a long time now matter how much your roommate had teased you on it. But there was no denying it that night, the yearning that you had fought against for so long come bubbling up, making its appearance until it ached in your chest and you were unable to return his gaze.

“I love how you still look at me the same way when we’re together,” he adds, before you ever have a chance to hide your face to his chest.

“And how do I look at you?”

“Like this—” He strokes your cheeks, gently, but enough to make you feel all the tingles that always appears from his touch. “Soft eyes looking up at me while you give me your sweet, shy smile, looking so irresistible I am truly lost for words.”

You bite your lips, even if it does nothing to stop your heart from threatening to explode. Yet his honesty shows you that perhaps it would be okay for you to be honest with him as well. “Maybe you read me the wrong way. What if I’m not the shy girl you think I am?” you ask him, looking straight into his eyes as you speak, mustering all the confidence that you could ever gain for yourself to make him see it. “What if I tell you that I won’t break easily if you touch me?”

His gaze darkens as he holds it on yours. “Is that so? So I was wrong to think that you are this sweet, innocent girl that I met many nights ago?”

You are just about to respond to him with something witty, yet he closes the small gap between you before you could even blink and pulls you into his arms. Caught off-guard, your feet comes tangled with his, but he somehow manages to keep both of you upright. And he is doing it so calmly, without even looking a bit flustered, just the way he always carries himself when he is with you. Your gazes are locked on each other for a fraction of a second, though it seems like an eternity when you are lost in the depth of his eyes, and your mouth opens with a surprised gasp just as he presses his lips on yours.

It is not the familiar way his soft lips are moving on yours that had caught you off-guard, but the way his arms feel tight around you, pressing you possessively onto his chest the same way he did then when he pulls you into hiding at your father’s house over a month ago. You are left frozen in his arms, unable to move, not even to simply put your arms around him to encourage him to keep kissing you. A slight whimper escapes from your lips when he bites your bottom lip, and it draws a deep groan from him.

As if someone has flipped a switch, the kiss goes from innocent to something filthy in the scope of a single heartbeat. His gentleness is swept away as he coaxes you to part your lips by pressing his lips with urgency, his tongue sweeping in and darting along at the seam of your lips until you give in. His hold on you eases slowly when you whimper into his mouth, with his hand splayed at your lower back, an arm around your shoulders, while you hold on tightly with your hands clutching on the front of his shirt.

Your head is spinning when you come apart. Both from the deep kiss and the wine you have drank during dinner, the same one that you could still taste from his lips. Yet even with your lips parted, neither of you make a move to untangle yourselves. Still with your arms wrapped to one another, Jimin keeps you pulled tight to his chest.

He leans in to brush the tip of his nose on yours, chuckling softly as he sees the look on your face while you can only look up to him in a daze. “Do you have any idea what those words can do to me? What you do to me when you talk like that?” he asks you gruffly, though it sounds more like he is caving in to his desire rather than being annoyed at the way you were challenging him. “If only you know how hard it has been to hold back from claiming you.”

He draws you even closer, until your lips are merely a hairbreadth away from each other and your bodies are completely pressed against the other. The unmistakable shape of his erection that you feel brushing against your belly lets you know just how genuine his words are and that he is equally affected. “Are you still sure you won’t break, kitten?”

Your words are failing you. The way he is talking to you that is nearly in complete contrast to the gentle way he is caressing you is driving you insane. A whimper is bubbling deep inside your throat when you open your mouth to answer his question. So you choose to simply show it to him instead. With a sigh of pleasure, pleased to have him finally showing this side of him again, you slide your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck, making it easier for you to pull him closer and press your lips on his. His breath quickens as you give him a deep, lingering kiss, retreating just as you feel him increase the pressing of his mouth against yours.

“I won’t break easily, Jimin,” you whisper to him with your lips hovering close at the corner of his lips. “I’m not made of glass.”

No other words could ever come up when he swiftly captures your lips again, stopping you from challenging him even further. His tongue slips between your parted lips, and suddenly, you are lifted off from the ground, and he carries you all the way across the room until your back hits the wall.

His lips return to yours only after he has taken a single breath. Your hands move from his chest to his shoulders, climbing up to the back of his neck, where you bury your fingers in his hair to keep him from moving away. Even if you are the one who is pinned against the wall with nowhere to escape.

One of his hands move from your face to slip between your back and the wall, sliding down until he is cupping your ass and pulling you up even tighter to his chest. He does it so fluidly, without letting you slip from his hold nor stopping his kiss from taking your breath away. This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most erotically charged kiss that you have ever gotten from anyone before. And you are pleased to find that he is not showing any sign of stopping anytime soon. To each time he seems to be ready to pull away, you tighten your arms around him to stop him from doing so, and he gladly returns to you. You simply cannot get enough of his lips, his tongue, and the scent of his expensive, sexy cologne.

He pins your body harder between his chest and the wall, pressing his hips between your legs to lock you in place, and he begins to move his hands more freely. Tracing up your hips to your waist, he slows down without faltering for a second until he is cupping your breasts from over the dress. He pulls away yet keeps his forehead on yours, watching your face with half-lidded eyes as he brushes his thumbs over your covered nipples, making you squirm from the need for more. You want him to touch your skin, and you wish for nothing to come between you as you begin to rock your hips to his.

Jimin seems to share the impatience you are feeling, but he keeps himself calm even as he grabs the front of your dress, the heart-shaped neckline making it easy for him to pull it down, revealing your lace covered breasts to him.

“You are so beautiful,” he grunts deeply with his eyes watching closely to how your nipples are turning into pebbles under your bra, his thumb brushing back and forth over them, doing it one at a time and relishing to the way your body shivers to each touch. “You have no idea how many times I had wished I could take you like this, to do all the sinful things I could think of until you writhe for me while screaming out my name.”

Before you can process the things he is saying, he takes your left nipple into his mouth, not bothering to pull the lace cups away so you can feel the fabric growing wet as he continues to stroke the hardening tip with his tongue and sucking on it at the same time. Then his teeth comes into play, biting lightly at first, before clamping tightly at the hard nub. You cry out in surprise as the sharp spike of pain erupts from your breast, though it is quick to turn into a spark of desire, registering straight down between your legs.

Jimin cups your mound, pressing two fingers on your core with only the lace of your panties blocking the way.

The edge that you had been constantly left with when you picture him at night is impossible to be compared to what Jimin is doing to you right this moment. All those nights and weeks of your wild fantasies are becoming a reality one stroke of his fingers on your covered pussy at a time. Your legs begin to thrash around his waist as you are coming closer to coming already and he has barely touched you. You find yourself on the brink of your release when he suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving you hanging with desperate whimpers coming out between your ragged breaths.

“Jimin—” You cannot even recognise your own voice when you call his name, pleading for him to give you what you need. You begin moving your hips through your daze, grinding yourself against his jeans clad crotch.

“What do you need, kitten?” His lips are on your neck, kissing down right where he could feel your pulse. You can still feel him everywhere, except that neither of his hands are on you, neither is touching you where you need him the most.

“Jimin—” your words are barely coherent when you try to beg him, the pulsing need between your legs growing hot and intense that you know you would erupt the moment his touches would return to your body. His chest rumbles with a chuckle, though he stops the moment he hears you pleading him, “Touch me, Jimin. Please. I need you.”

He pulls away and smiles. “You want me to touch you? To make you feel good?” he asks you, and you quickly answer him with a rapid nod of your head. Then he asks you again, “Do you trust me?”

It takes you a fraction of a second before his words sink in. You may not be able to comprehend what it is that he is asking of you, but you manage to nod, knowing that you could trust yourself when you are with him. “Yes.”

“Good,” he says, smiling at you as he pushes his hips forward, pinning you harder to the wall to stop you from falling. “Now give me your hands.”

Your eyes fall wide, but instead of letting go, you only hold him tighter around the neck, afraid that you might fall. Yet he could easily figure out your intention clearly when he says, “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper to him as you slowly pull your hands back, letting him go from your tight hold and hold out your hands towards him.

“Put them together,” he says, a smile grows on his face as he watches you putting both palms together for him, looking awfully proud at how well you are following his instructions. He takes your wrists in one hand, pulling your hands up and pressing them up against the wall right above your head.

“Let me know if I’m going too far,” he murmurs, though he immediately captures your breast again with his mouth in the kind of urgency like a madman in need of a feast, his fingers pinching at the lace covered nub while he presses his hips right against your heat, swivelling and rolling his hips between your legs to give you some friction.

There is no hint of his apprehensions in his sinful touches, and he is strumming your body so expertly until you are arching into him, pressing your breasts to his hand and your hips to his crotch. Jimin takes a moment to look at your face, taking in every single reaction you are giving him, and then he leans in, pressing his lips on yours. His kiss only lingers for a moment, just enough to drown your cries, before he trails those hot lips of his down your jawline, down to your neck, and he bends to reach the top mounds of your breasts, kissing a hot line across your heaving chest.

You no longer care about the way he still has your hands bound together, leaving you completely in his mercy. All you can feel is his touch, his fingers tweaking at your covered nub and his lips that keep moving down and over the lace cups. Then he pulls his hand, the one that has been kneading at your breasts, replacing his naughty fingers with his lips. He strokes his tongue over the pebbled nub, taking one into his mouth before moving to the other, while his free hand moves lower, and lower, slipping between your bodies to find your heat. He easily traces down your panties, which have been soaked with your arousal and clinging into your slit. His thumb finds your opening easily, following the wet trail on the flimsy fabric barely protecting you from his touch. He twists his hand, turning it while he continues to press his thumb in circles over your covered entrance, his fingers finding your clit, and then he pinches at the bud, hard, while his teeth clamp down on your nipple, giving you the mix of pain and pleasure that send you toppling over the edge and into the most intense climax you have ever gotten your entire life.

Jimin unlatches his mouth from your breasts, kissing at the top mound while you breathe in heavily, still squirming and shaking from your release. You are still pinned to his chest, still with the hem of your skirt hanging at your hips and his fingers moving back and forth between your legs. His hand begin to slow down before he pulls it away. You can barely feel him tidying your dress back in place, covering the mess that he had created. Just as you feel his fingers pulling up the front of your dress, your body has come down from climax and you open your eyes. Expecting him to smile and kiss your lips sweetly the way he always does, you are surprised to see him looking at you with a dark gaze that also looks a bit like he is in shock.

Your voice has yet to return to you properly so you can only watch his face in silence as he lets your hands go, taking your wrists to his lips so he could press gentle kisses right at the spot he was holding you tight before. Something about his demeanour has changed, even his jaw looks tightly clenched as he gently settles you down to the floor again, though his hands are still there to support you when you sway on your rubbery legs.

“Jimin? What’s wrong?” you question him when all he does is look at your face, saying nothing at all. He continues to clench and unclench his jaw, before shaking his head and slowly letting you.

“I must go. This was—no, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, frowning deeply as he talks to himself.

You are still recovering from your intense bliss that nothing about this makes any sense. Not even when he suddenly turns around, quickly making his way to the front door.

“Jimin, wait—” you call out to him the moment you snap out of it, quickly chasing him even if your quivering legs are making it hard for you to make haste.

But he keeps moving, grabbing his coat in such a haste as if the whole apartment is burning. But there is no fire around you and the only thing you can feel is the hurt of being rejected.

“Did I do something wrong? Please, don’t leave,” you plead to him as you rush to chase him.

He quickly turns around when he hears your voice, and only then does he finally realise that you are standing there on your wobbling knees and in the verge of tears. His face falls into a shock. “No, dear God. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me.”

“What does that even supposed to mean?”

He swallows hard, looking guilty over something that you really have no clue of what it would be. But then he sighs and explains, “I should’ve been honest with you. I’ve tried, but I couldn’t, because I can’t handle what you would think of me if—” he sighs deeply before continuing, “I’ve been trying to hold back, not without a reason, and certainly not because I don’t want to be with you, the way you had thought I was when we talked months ago. It’s just that I have a certain—needs, that must be fulfilled, I’ve been too afraid of losing myself in it and crossing the line to end up hurting you.”

You open your mouth only to close it again. You are beginning to understand what he might be trying to say, though you still cannot register it in your mind that he have been having the same doubts and insecurities as you have been. “So you like to try things. There’s nothing wrong with having different needs than anyone else,” you try to tell him, giving him all the same words that you have been giving yourself.

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not just that, kitten. I—”

When he says nothing else to explain further, only looking broken down and terribly ashamed of himself, you slowly begin to put two and two together. You recall the way he was leading things, the way he commanded you and instructed you, helping you to submit yourself to him and allow him to bring you into your pleasure.

“You love to take control,” you murmur softly, as if wondering out loud. “Is that it?”

Jimin nods grimly. “To keep it simple, that’s what I prefer,” he says, exhaling a deep breath. “And I am a terrible lover for not telling you or warning you about it beforehand, and I—I should have took my time, talk to you about it instead of—” he cuts off, looking at you with a remorseful look in his eyes. “I could’ve hurt you.”

“But you didn’t,” you quickly say to him before he could say anything else. “You didn’t hurt me and you did ask me if I wanted to do everything with you and I did nothing to stop you because I wanted to. Jimin, I wanted to do everything with you.”

I have wanted to do all those things with you for a long time, is what you want so badly to tell him, but the frown on his face lets you know that he is having a trouble believing you already that you choose not to.

“Then show me,” you finally tell him, asking him quickly before he gets any chance to get away.

“What?”

“Show me how to do it properly. Control me the way you want to,�� you are basically pleading him now, trying to convince him that you are willing to try. And you want to do it all. “Tell me what to do. Show me what you need.”

Jimin looks confused and starts shaking his head, though he is no longer advancing towards the door and is slowly taking a few steps back to you instead. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can’t force you into something—”

Whatever it is that he is trying to say is quickly caught in his tongue as you slide down to your knees.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I—”

There are so many things you want him to know. All the cravings, the desire you secretly crave for, and all the things you want him to show you. But words may never be enough to show him.

“I want to be with you in all the way I could.”

Jimin still cannot believe his eyes. He had dreamed of this for many nights, after all those times he had to reluctantly pull himself away from you. And now you are here, down on your trembling knees, submitting yourself to him. Your skin is still flushed after your climax, your hair looks as if you have been fucked thoroughly even without him actually touching you and being inside you, and your lips are swollen after his kisses.

And you are presenting yourself to him, to do as he please. The thought of finally having you, to be able to stay true to himself, all reverberated in his chest that he could hear every thrum of his heartbeat with each breath he takes. His blood is boiling hotter the closer he gets to you. Each delicate—and nearly hesitant—step he makes feels twice as heavy and twice as big.

With his eyes on you, Jimin tosses his coat onto a nearby chair and continues to stalk closer. Your knees are beginning to feel sore against the carpet, but none of it matters when all you could feel is the pounding of your heartbeat, and the pulsing in your core that rises, getting increasingly stronger as he comes to you.

“Are you sure?” he questions you. His breath hitches at the end, revealing his tension and the anticipation shaking him from the inside. “Do you know what you are asking of me?”

“Yes. I know exactly what I want.”

What you are not telling him is just how long you have wanted this. Just like how he is incapable of telling you just how long he had desired you this way. But only because words wouldn’t be enough. Not enough words, and certainly not enough time to explain or to tell you everything he has in mind. The only way he could do to make you understand is to show you.

“Will you be a good girl and follow what I say?”

He reaches down as he looms over you, brushing your hair away from your face and stroking the strands gently at the back of your head.

“Yes.”

Jimin swallows thickly, as he is trying his best to hold himself together before he falls apart. He takes a deep breath, taking control of himself, doing all that he needs for him to be able to take control of everything which is about to unravel tonight. “Remember to use your words. We would need to set a ground rule, but for now, just tell me to stop when it goes too far.”

“Yes,” you answer him with a whisper, and you watch how his guilt, his insecurities, every bit of apprehension that he has left fading away, before his true self takes over.

“Take off my pants for me, kitten.”

Your hands are trembling as you reach for his belt, but you manage to snatch it off, before working on his button and zipper. He makes no move to help, keeping his hands by his side as he watches you fumble, doing your best until you could free him from the tight jeans that must have become a painful restraint over his hard-on. You keep your eyes on him to make sure that you are doing things right as you lower his jeans and boxers to his hips, just enough to free him, and his cock jumps towards your face, all hard and ready with its tip swelling and leaking with its pre-cum.

“Touch me, stroke my cock and give it a taste. Will you do that for me?”

You nod your head, then your answer follows instantly when you are completely mesmerised by his size and girth. “Yes.”

Grasping his hard length with your palm, you begin to stroke him, moving your hand up and down from the tip of his cock to the base, repeating it over and over in a steady pace until you feel his girth strengthening and expanding against your grip. Jimin keeps his eyes on you the whole time while you have yours on him, not missing the way his eyes are glazing, his lips are parting with his breath growing heavy.

Still with your eyes on his face, you lean closer, kissing the tip of his cock briefly, before fitting your lips around the broad head, taking him into your mouth. You hear his gasp before it turns into a deep groan, then you begin sucking and licking as you take him deeper into your mouth. His low growl vibrates all the way down to your core, and you resist the urge to reach down, to stroke your fingers to search for your own release, choosing to focus solely on pleasing him instead.

Soon, just as you find your pace, Jimin looks lost in his pleasure. His lips fall open with a few deep grunts escaping through his heaving breath, his hips moving tentatively slow as he pumps himself into your mouth. The sight of him relishing on his pleasure, enjoying everything you are doing to him, makes you feel hot inside. You pull back with your jaw slacked, then slides him back into your mouth until you can feel him deep inside your throat. And then he surprises you, but reaching down, softening his gaze when he gently tucks your hair back behind your ears.

“You look so beautiful like this, with my cock filling your mouth,” he murmurs, before his words turn into a hiss when you suck all the way down his length, taking him deep. “Fuck, this feels so good. I’m almost there.”

His hand lands on the back of your head while his hips begin to move faster. His movement becomes snappy as he pumps into your mouth, his thrust growing rapid, and you feel him twitching against your tongue, his girth widening, before he pumps his cum into your mouth.

“Swallow for me,” he grunts, and you take every drop of his cum, not stopping even when he keeps shooting into your throat and nearly making you cough in the process. “Good girl. That feels marvellous, kitten.”

Once his release stops coming, you swallow his cock one last time before letting him slide out of your mouth, your tongue lapping around the tip to clean him off, until you have gotten every drop.

“Come on up,” he says, offering his hands to you to help you back up on your feet. It takes a moment for you to be able to stand without wobbling, and he holds you up until you can hold yourself steady.

He tips at your chin, urging you to look at him when you keep your eyes down. You are met with his smile, before he leans down and captures your lips, not caring at the taste that still lingers on your tongue. The kiss grows instantly intense, and he continues to suck and nibble at your lips as he expertly guides you to the couch in the middle of the room. He stops moving when you feel the couch hitting the back of your legs, and he releases you with his hands on your waist.

“Sit,” he says, and he helps you settle down, stopping you just when you are about to slide back.

“No, sit on the edge,” he says, guiding you to place your butt right at the edge of the seat, barely getting all of your flesh on the cushions before he gives you the next command. “Lie back.”

You do as he says, leaning back on the sofa and propping yourself on your elbows so you can see him better and watch what he is about to do to you.

“Put your heels on the edge of the sofa and open your legs for me,” he firmly asks you, and you do exactly what he says, placing the heels of your foot at the edge of the seat, until your knees are folded and you are exposed to him. You spread your legs a little and stop, but he gently shakes his head. “Wider.”

Licking at his lips, Jimin holds his gaze on your covered core. The air feels cold right where you are leaking with your release, your panties feel almost non-existent when your pussy keeps pulsing, pumping out your arousal and clenching tight deep within with the need for his touch.

“Can you feel yourself soaking wet? All because you took my cock into your mouth?” You nod briefly to his question, murmuring softly, “Yes,” just when you feel that you are still dripping beneath your panties.

“Really now? Why don’t you feel it with your fingers to see just how much you are drenched right now.”

He stands tall right in front of you, with his eyes on your fingers as you reach down, finding the source of your wetness. His eyes never leave you when you reach between your legs. The moment you press the tip of your fingers right at your core, Jimin reaches down and cups his semi-hard cock with his palm.

Lost in his gaze, your body reacts to him so easily. To each stroke he gives himself, you move your fingers in the same pace, the same pattern. As he runs his palm up and down his length, you run the tip of your fingers, following the wet trail along your lace panties over your covered slit. When he reaches down to cup himself right at the base of his cock, you push the panties aside and slip your fingers in, tracing down your folds to find your soaking center, which has been throbbing wildly for his touch. There is no mistaking the hunger in his eyes as the stands over you, looking down as you continue to move your hand between your legs.

“Take them off,” he says, keeping his eyes on your soaking panties. His voice sounds soft and deep in his whisper, but the commanding tone is there, firm and confident and enough to send a perverse thrill rushing through you until you shiver under his command.

His eyes follow your hand as you slowly peel the scrap of black lace down your thighs, making a show out of it while you make him wait. You will be paying for this, that much you know for sure, but you continue on teasing him, coaxing him without looking away. Until he finally grows impatient and grasps on the lacy fabric, jerking them down the rest of the way. You slip your feet from them as he pulls them off, and you watch him lifts the lace to his nose.

Your mouth falls open to the sight of him taking in your scent, while his smirk grows wider, as if he is enjoying it—and you know that he really does. Within the next second, the fabric disappears from his fingers, and he is reaching out to touch you.

He finds your knees and urges your legs apart, spreading them wider just as you are beginning to pull them back together. With a wicked smile on his face, Jimin lifts your legs up to his elbows, letting them clinging there, hiking up the hem of your skirt in the process until it falls to your hips.

“Put your hands right here, right under your knees,” he calmly instructs you, and your hands move obediently, finding the spot that he is pointing out, clasping your hand right under your folded knee before he guides you to pull your legs up towards your chest. “That’s it. Now, don’t let go. Understand?”

You nod, before remembering that you need to speak. “Yes, understand.”

The muscles on your thighs feel like liquid as you fold them up to your chest, quivering with anticipation and need like you have never felt before. You hold your legs up with your palms on the underside of your thighs until you are folded on the sofa, squirming beneath him until you find the perfect angle.

“You look perfect,” he muses with a smile, and your body warms under his praise.

Jimin bends over you, his lips are soft on your belly as his fingers trail down to find your nether lips. He presses a finger between your slit, moving it up and down until he draws a gasp from you and a roll of your hips, before he finds your throbbing clit.

“Don’t move,” he says in a firm tone as you continue gyrating your hips, though his command only sends spikes of heat spearing through you.

“I own your pleasure, my sweet kitten. You only come when I say you can, understand?” Jimin’s eyes are wide and he holds his firm gaze on you as he waits for your respond, while your mind is still reeling, between processing his commands and the underlying offer of pleasure he is about to give you even if he is going to test your obedience along with it.

And you still have no answer even as he tilts his head, challenging you to either agree with him or to stop this whole thing before it continues further.

But dear God, how are you supposed to answer to that. And how are you supposed to produce any word at all when his fingers are distracting you enough with the way he is playing with your nub, stroking and circling it so teasingly.

When you are silent, Jimin draws his hand away, earning a whimper from you as the instant respond. “I need the words. Tell me you understand,” Jimin whispers as he bends over you, leaning in close enough until you feel the warmth of his breath falling on the top mounds of your breasts.

You nipples twitch under your lace cups, right where he had bit them between his playful teeth earlier, and your body hums with a deep want to have him igniting the same pain again. “Yes,” your answer finally comes when Jimin blows at your covered buds, your voice comes breathless with a gasp. “Yes, I understand.”

You almost miss the sigh of relief that escapes from Jimin’s lips before he smiles. “Good girl,” he says, and then his fingers return to you, finding the spots on your body which are pulsing with needs.

His fingertips circle around and on your clit, and a shaky breath stutters across your lips. Your flesh feels hot under his touch, and your head falls back against the sofa as he cups your heat, his fingers slipping between the folds of your sex.

With your pussy soaked and ready, his fingers slide so easily through the opening. He could feel just how wet you are, but it is the way you are clenching tightly around his digits and your muscles throbbing tight for him which has him groaning deeply. He tests the waters, after watching your reactions the whole time, giving you another praise before he draws his fingers out of your depth. “You are so beautiful, giving in to your pleasure and following my instructions like a good girl,” he whispers, feeling the way your walls throb around him one last time before drawing them out.

“You love it when I give you a praise, don’t you?” he asks you while running his fingers up and down your slit, the slick sound of your arousal that seems to keep growing lets you know just how your body is reacting to his words and attention.

“Yes, I do love it,” you answer him, and your honesty earns you a sweet treat coming from him. He keeps moving his fingers, up and down and then in circles, chasing each pulse and throb happening right in your core, while he climbs down to your lower region.

You have turned into a quivering wreck as his lips move over your abdomen, working their way down to your pulsing heat. He knows exactly where you need him, and he focuses on your clit, licking and sucking until he drives you completely insane. You are already on the verge of another explosive release when he drives two fingers into you and curls them until he finds the spot that makes you detonate. You are completely lost in the earth-shattering orgasm when you remember that you wasn’t supposed to let that happen without his permission.

“Someone is in big trouble,” Jimin murmurs softly with a chuckle. It is painfully obvious that he is delighted to see you making your first mistake.

“Not fair! I couldn’t control it,” you protest with a whine, yet you make no move to let go of the restraint you are currently being locked in. Not that you ever could, with him hovering close with not enough space for you to let your trembling legs go.

Jimin chuckles softly, looking painfully obvious that he is enjoying the way you are reacting. “Fine. I’ll let you go just this once. But remember that I won’t take it any easier on your the next time. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand. I’m sorry,” you answer him with a pout, which he later presses his lips onto just to see it disappear.

“Now, you can let your legs go and sit up,” he says, placing his hands on your under thighs to help you ease your quivering legs down, then he takes your hand to help you sit on the sofa, giving you a moment until your back is no longer sore.

With his hands on your hips, he helps you up slowly, taking his time to wait until you can stand without swaying then pulls you up to his chest. “I’m not done with you yet. You know that, don’t you?”

You blink your eyes rapidly, shaking the haze clouding your eyes before answering him, “Ah—yes, I do.”

“First, we need to get you comfortable,” he says. Without a warning, he leans down and scoops you up in his arms, drawing a surprise yelp from you. “I got you, kitten. Hang on tight.”

He carries you to the bedroom, expertly finding his way as if he already has everything memorised even from that one visit he made a few weeks ago. Once there, he gently sets you down near the bed, holding you up until you are no longer swaying on your trembling legs before he reaches up and begins caressing your face, your shoulders, as he if cannot stop himself from touching you. There is no tenderness when he kisses your mouth again. Enough to take the air out of your chest before descending to your neck.

His delicate fingers seem to be shaking as he reaches out to your back and lowers the zipper of your dress, but his kiss never falters. Every kiss feels like a promise, every touch he makes somehow feel like it is strengthening the bond between you like no other. Your skin sizzles everywhere he trails his mouth, everywhere his fingers are marking you. Your body shivers when your dress finally falls to the floor. You were standing right in front of you wearing nothing but the strapless bra you had worn underneath the dress. The only thing that he has chosen to leave behind after snapping your panties off of your skin.

“You are magnificent,” he murmurs, tipping his head forward and kissing the tops of your breasts peeking out of the lacy cups.

You arch your back as he traces his lips on your skin, your body growing hot and your nipples hurt as they grow hard against the cups of your bra. You inwardly curse at its presence, for keeping you away from his sinful lips. You rise up to guide him to take your covered peaks into his mouth, only to have him pulling away from you, watching how you are writhing on the bed for the loss of his touch.

“I love watching you like this. And I certainly love seeing you in these flimsy piece, looking like such a tease to show your delightful body but keeping such a thin little thing to keep me away,” he muses softly as he enjoys the sight of your barely covered skin with his dark, lustful gaze, his fingers tracing up and down your waist to keep you lying down while he admires the way your chest is rising and falling, how your nipples are poking through the lace to tease him. You are pleased to have chosen to wear this under your dress, to spark such a reaction from him. Though it doesn’t take long before it is also peeled off from you, when you reach back, unsnapping the hooks without looking away from him, then release the lacy fabric onto the floor.

He draws in a sharp breath, and you feel pride to have incited that reaction from him. Jimin no longer holds back now, once all the barriers have been rid off. He reaches out to you, touching the valley of your breaths before lowering his hand, drawing small circles around your navel.

“You look so beautiful, looking like this for me,” he whispers, watching you with so much warmth in his eyes even without letting his desire hidden under his gaze. His thumbs find your hips, then he moves down, running his fingers down your legs, taking his time to touch your thighs, your calves, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. He kisses his way back up, placing your right leg over his shoulder, teasing your inner thigh with the tip of his nose. You let out a gasp at the first stroke of his tongue over your center. Your knees are giving in a little, but he holds your hips in place, sustaining you up with his strengths, keeping you right where he had wanted you to while he slowly tortures you with his mouth.

“Ooohh—Jimin!”

Pleasure comes pulsing through you, lighting you up, driving you closer and closer to the edge, until you feel every muscle in your body growing tight with tension.

“Jimin, please,” you find yourself begging him right as you are left hanging on the edge. “Please, I need—”

“I know what you need, kitten,” he whispers against your tender flesh. The pleasure rises all of sudden, shooting right through you until you almost buckle with your legs turning into jelly. You hear his soft chuckle as he gives you a few more laps with his tongue, tasting you, drinking in your essence, before he looks up again and whispers, “And I’ll make you come so hard into my mouth that you will need me to hold you up.”

And then he becomes quite relentless in showing you just how good he is to make good of his words. His grip tightens on your thighs, as the lashes of his tongue grow more intensely, and you come apart at the seams.

You keep a tight hold on his shoulders as you embrace your climax, crying out his name like a chant that falls in tune with the rhythm of your swivelling hips. And yet, he is still not done with you. He continues to work his mouth on you—lips sucking and nibbling, tongue lashing and lapping—prolonging your orgasm until it falls into smaller spasms.

It is not until he is pleased with himself when he finally pulls his mouth away from your heat. He gives your folds another kiss before climbing up, his kisses trailing up to your hips, the under curve of your breasts, until he is standing right in front of you again. With all smug smile that still glistens with your release.

“You are terribly overdressed.”

“Oh, am I?’

You give him a wicked smile as you remove his shirt, taking your sweet time this time around so you can feel up the ripped muscles down his chest and abs. Once the shirt is tossed away, you lean in, kissing down his bare chest as you reach down to the waistband of his pants. You have every intention to return the slow torture, to take your time with him until you can drive him crazy. But when you come up to your tiptoes, kissing him right at the column of his throat, he releases a low and delicious sound—somewhere between a hum and a deep growl—and you soon forget every plan you have created completely, overcome with lust. Suddenly, you want him right now. He must have felt it too, because his lips turn up to a knowing smirk, one that he hides by planting a kiss on your shoulders as you push his pants and boxers down to the floor.

His cock jumps out instantly. Before you manage to see it clearly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you close to him, the switch allows him to easily takes your lips in his, shutting the gasps that you have been ready to let slip after seeing his hard-on. But even if you can no longer see it, being pressed to his chest allows you to feel it. The wide girth trapped against your stomach, the length aligned all the way from your core and up to your navel.

He kisses you until it grows urgent, then he pulls away with a deep, frustrated growl that sends strong vibrations deep inside your body.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his bare chest heaving, as a sign that he is already at the brink of losing all control. “Come on down to my lap, kitten,” he commands you. His voice sounds gentle, but it sounds so deep it makes your core swirl with heat.

“You—you want me to lie down there? Across your lap?” you ask him, stuttering as you picture yourself lying across his lap and the image of the things he could do to you comes to mind.

As if he knows what you are thinking, Jimin chuckles softly. “Do I want to lie you across my thighs and spank your little bottom for being such a naughty girl, challenging me to show you all the wicked things I could do to you and then disobeying me when I told you not to come? Yes, I want to. But you don’t deserve any spanking. Not tonight, at least.”

“So—how do you want me?”

“Come up here. Sit on my lap,” he says. His voice comes out deep, his desire insinuated through every breathe he makes and the dark gaze he is giving you.

You sit down slowly onto his lap, and he turns you until both of you are facing the mirror which you have placed right on the opposite wall. His hands move up along your bare thighs through the inner sides of your legs, gently pushing them apart until you can see your private parts—all soaked and swollen after the multiple orgasms he had sent you to—in the mirror.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he whispers into your hair, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror. He lifts his hand and offers you to grab a hold onto it. “Hold my hand.”

While he let you take one hand to hold, he keeps the other resting on your thigh, keeping your legs apart before you could have a chance to press them together. “Don’t hide yourself. Now show me everything. Show me what you want me to do to you. Touch yourself with my fingers the same way you’ve had pictured me doing it for you.”

His voice sounds deep and raspy in your ear as he coaxes you gently, his words commanding you while it is your hand which is guiding him to reach between your legs, until his fingers touch your soaking heat. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, though your voice sounds raspy and deep, completely foreign to your own ears.

“How do you want me?” he asks you, giving you back the question you had given him earlier. Except that when you had asked him with pure curiosity lathering your voice, he is now asking you with pure dominance in his, as if he is saying it as a challenge. “Show me, my sweet kitten. Show me how you want me to please you, where to touch, so I’ll know just what you need from me.”

His gaze stays in the mirror, looking straight back at yours through the reflection. Then you start moving his fingers, and he looks down, looking at you through the mirror, watching closely as you push his fingers in tight circles over your clitoris. He rests the other hand over your thigh, pressing it down just as you legs begin to quiver and making sure that you would keep them apart.

With your fingers pressing over his, you guide him to where your pulse is felt the strongest. Up and around your clit, up and down between your nether lips, then move his fingers in circles to your leaking entrance. You feel it rising, the pleasure spasming and pulsing from the depth of your core, and his touch feels just so perfect that you know it when it is coming, building up from your center and slowly rising.

“That’s okay, baby. Don’t be too timid when it comes to your pleasure. Use my fingers to make yourself come for me,” he murmurs between each kisses he plants on your skin. The whisper of his breath against your neck sets off a chain reaction of sensation that ends in a throb between your legs, and you press his fingers harder against it, finding the source to ease it down, until your whole body shudders and your head falls back against his shoulder for how intense the pleasure feels. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

If his mere touch had been enough to push you over to the edge, his praise sends you to come falling into another climax, drawing you into nothing but thrashing limbs. Jimin wraps an arm around your waist to keep you still. Your hand no longer has the power to guide him, so he takes it upon himself to continue working on your sweet cunt, pressing and circling right at the sweet spot that had sent you to an orgasm, prolonging the intense bliss.

His whispers of sweet nothings seem so far away when you are still lost in the peak of pleasure. His hands are now moving in gentle caress, but you barely recognise them until the moment you come down from the height of your bliss. Everything only starts to clear out when you feel his lips tracing kisses down your neck, before you begin to feel his fingers running up and down your waist.

“Are you with me, kitten?” you hear him asking you, and you turn to him to respond, only to press your lips on his.

With a chuckle, Jimin pulls away and flips the two of you until you are lying on your back. Propping your elbows on the bed, you slowly crawl back to the pillows, and you watch him stalking you, crawling up on the bed like a predator guiding you to be right where he is able to pounce.

Jimin catches you by the hips, then climbs on top of you, capturing your lips in his with a soft, lingering kiss that has you slowly relaxing beneath him. He pulls away, carrying on to trace his lips on your skin and begin to climb down on you.

You watch him, completely astonished as he continue to descend, his mouth sampling every inch of your skin. He teases you with a gentle brush of his lips, going around the outskirts of your nipple, trailing down the valley of your breasts and along the under curve of your mounds. He moves sinfully slow, as if he is mapping every part of your skin, every inch of your body which instantly reacts to him.

Then, just when you expect him to be right where you need him the most, to take your nub which has turned as hard as pebbles and now pulsing intensely as beacons pulling him towards, he opens is eyes, looking at you and winking playfully only to move away. He runs his lips along your inner thigh and you shudder, the pleasure pulsing through you slowly just for anticipating his next move. When he keeps moving up when you think he would be moving down, and then away from the center even when the intense pulsing happening between your legs intensifies to each time he comes closer to it.

Such a tease, you curse in your head. While all that comes out of your mouth is nothing but a mix of whispers, gasps, and soft moans, all with his names mixed in between the incoherent words you are giving him.

And then, he is there. Pressing his lips right at your heat, sucking your clit between his mouth and pressing his tongue through your opening. His mouth and tongue working simultaneously to thrust you into another climax so soon, too soon, that you barely register anything else happening other than what his sinful mouth is doing to you. You barely notice how your hands reach down to bury your fingers through his hair, how your hips are moving rapidly against his face, chasing each spasm of your pleasure with a roll of your hips.

But then he stops too abruptly, leaving you hanging with the spasms happening between your walls subsiding even before you manage to reach the peak. You whine out your protest, though your words barely coherent when you are gasping and moaning at the same time. Jimin’s chest rumbles with his deep chuckle as he traces his lips up to your navel, leaving the spot where you had wanted him to stay just a tad bit longer.

“What do you want from me, my sweet kitten?” he asks you, whispering softly while he continues brushing his lips on your skin.

He rises up and slowly climbs up with his knees planted into the bed, bringing his hot mouth to your neck as his fingers rub against the place where his lips had been, not denying your clit the attention it needs.

What do you want?

You want all of him. You want him without any bit of restrictions that he keeps giving you. You want him as a whole, and you want to come for him, over and over again while showing him just how much you are willing to give yourself to him.

But none of those words could come out, when he keeps testing you and teasing you with his fingers that seem to be everywhere. You feel him right down at your core, touching delicately yet not enough to send you toppling over the edge, and you feel him tracing your breasts, the tip of his fingers run gently up and over and between the valley of your breasts.

“Tell me, kitten,” he urges you to speak when the only thing you could ever manage to give him had nothing but a series of desperate moans, and he keeps making it harder for you to speak when he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. “Come on, little kitten. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you finally manage to speak even through ragged breaths.

Jimin’s smile grows on his face. “Hmm, really? Where do you want me?”

You open your mouth only to give him a soft moan as he pushes two fingers against your opening, rubbing more firmly as your hips twitch against him.

“Do you want me here?”

“Yes,” you answer him between a sigh and a gasp when he begins to move his fingers in circles. “Yes, Jimin. Right there, exactly there.”

“Will my hands be enough, kitten?”

It would, but there is no denying that you need more. His hands feel marvellous, strumming you like an instrument and he is the master of making sweet music through his touches. You have no idea how close you are to reaching to your limit. You have no clue just how much more you could take of his sweet torture. But you still want him, to have him buried inside you when you unravel for the very last time tonight.

Nibbling at your neck, he pushes your hair out of the way so he can kiss his way up your jawline. Tilting your head to the side, you moan and close your eyes. Chill bumps race across your skin and you shiver, leaning against him to steal some of his warmth. He chuckles in your ear and presses his hard cock against your stomach, lightly thrusting it up and down to let you feel him, though it only reminds you of what you really need from him.

“Please, Jimin. Please, fuck me,” you beg and beg, until he releases a deep groan and pushes himself up, depraving you of his warmth just so you can focus on his voice.

“Raise your hands, hold on to the rails on the headboard and keep them there,” he commands you, and you follow his words by rising your hands up, gripping tightly on the wooden bars up on your headboard. “That’s it. Hang on tightly and don’t let go.”

You bite your lips, curious to what he has planned. Jimin has his hands running up and down your hips, which is terribly distracting, but your curiosity wins and the question simply slips right through you. “What if I lose my grip?”

His eyes flicker up to your face. “Then I’m going to have to punish you.”

The thought of it should make you shiver in fear, perhaps recoil and cancel everything. But it only brings out the heat in your body, and the shiver that runs through you is more from your excitement instead of fear. “How?”

“You want to know how I’m punishing you?” he asks, chuckling softly without stopping his hands from moving, tracing up and down your curves. His eyes are dark as he gently moves his hands down to the underside of your thighs, lifting them up and tracing his palms upward until he could touch your rear cheeks. “There are many ways. I can spank this little ass of yours until the skin will burn and you wouldn’t be able to sit properly for days,” he grimly says while cupping at your bottom and pressing his palms hard on your flesh. The touch of his hands on your bare skin and the thought of him slapping his palm against them increase the pulse happening right at your core. You could feel your arousal growing more intense to each possessive squeeze he makes on your buttocks.

“Or—” he adds as he pulls his hands away, letting your legs fall back down on he bed while he leans closer, nipping at your lobe. “I can forbid you from coming.”

The wicked voice he makes and the thought of him stopping you from having your climax earn a gasp to slip through your lips. “You wouldn’t.”

With a chuckle, Jimin pulls back. His smile is sinister when he looks at you. “Is that a challenge, kitten?”

You bite your lips, intrigued to see just how far he is going to test you. But you choose to tighten your grip on the bars and force yourself to relax beneath him. “No, I’ll do as you say,” you promise him, though your voice sounds small, not out of fear but for anticipating his next move.

Looking pleased, Jimin climbs on top of you, kissing your lips gently before moving straight down to your breasts.

He takes your nipple between his lips, the soreness from his earlier bites still present that it sends a shudder through your body. Without giving you any warning other than the quick flicker of his gaze on your face, he bites down on your pebbled nipple just hard enough to draw a breathless cry from you.

His clamping teeth lingers for a few seconds, then he finally lets go. He takes his time, licking at the marks of his bites, before moving to the other, giving it the same exact treatment and drawing the same cries from your lips. He gives a few gentle licks to ease down the pain once he is through, then his face comes up to hover on top you again.

“You’re doing a good job so far, kitten. I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your lips until your gasping breath starts to calm.

As he speaks to you in his gentle voice, he presses his cock against your clit without entering you. You want so badly to reach down, to cup his plump ass so you could direct him to where you need him to be. But you hold yourself together, tightening the grip you have on the wooden bars above your head and grit your teeth, while he continues to rub his hard length up and down your slit, coating himself with your essence.

The next time he draws himself back from you, he only does it briefly. And then he pushes into you hard and fast, stealing the breath from your lungs and nearly triggering the orgasm that has been hovering just beneath the surface.

You cannot think of anything clearly as he is moving in and out of you, filling you up so perfectly. You are swept away on a sea of pleasure and pure anticipation when he suddenly stops, withdrawing and leaving you bereft, your pussy walls contract almost instantly against the void that comes all so suddenly, and you look up to him with a pleading gaze, whimpering at the lost of his cock inside you.

Fortunately, he doesn’t make you wait too long to have him buried deep inside you again. But not without another test coming into play.

Jimin grasps your legs and props them up on his shoulders before entering you again at a whole new angle. He is touching you in places no one else has ever been, and rocking your world one deep stroke at a time.

“Talk to me,” he commands you with a raspy voice, keeping his relentless pace as he pumps his cock in and out of you. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your mouth falls open, but you are feeling overwhelmed with so many things happening at once that the words are caught in your throat. You can only process the way his cock is stroking back and forth against your walls, its tip hitting so hard and so deep you could feel it up to your throat. “Amazing,” is all you can say to him, before your voice turns into moans and whimpers just as your body shudders with the earliest hints of your orgasm coming through you. “Oh, Jimin. I need—”

Your words fall into a cry when he is hitting you at the right spot. “Tell me what you need,” he grunts, still pounding into you in a quick, yet steady pace, giving you no space to collect your thoughts when your pleasure comes rising too fast and you are desperate to get it together just to stop it from happening too soon.

“I want to come,” you finally cry out, only to have Jimin tutting his tongue.

“Not yet,” he says, slowing down the pace, then coming to a complete stop while still being embedded inside you.”

No, don’t stop, you wish to scream, though the only thing you can say is—

“Please.”

“Not yet,” he whispers, clenching his jaw tightly, letting you know that he is also on the brink of climaxing inside you. Your first thought is to have him giving you a moment to take a break, until the need to come around his cock eases down. Yet, Jimin bends down, taking your nipple into his mouth, tugging and sucking on the tight tip and making you writhe on the bed. Then his fingers come down, finding your clit, sending you almost too close into erupting into an earth-shattering kind of orgasm.

“Jimin,” you gasp out his name, and he pulls back, only to push his hips forward, thrusting deep and hitting the sweet spot deep inside you with the tip of his hard shaft.

“Not yet. Take a deep breath to control it,” he says. He surrounds you completely as he begins pumping his cock once again, pounding into your heat without mercy. There is really not much room for you to move. But your body is now fully in his commands, and he plays you so easily like a maestro, keeping you right at the edge without slowing down, drawing you closer to your release, and closer, until you come near to losing control with each stroke of his cock.

You feel him getting harder inside you, stretching you to your absolute limit with his girth pressing to your pulsing walls.

You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation which keeps rising from within. And you soon at your limit, another push will send you over the edge with nothing else stopping you from getting it. “Please, Jimin—”

Pounding into you, he presses his thumb right on your tingling clit, then speaks in a gruff voice, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes, please. I have to—” your words are cut off into a wail when Jimin clamps his fingers on your clit, pinching it hard while he pumps his cock deep into the hilt, pushing you off of the edge.

“Come,” he finally commands you, and you explode entirely into shambles.

There is simply no other words to describe it. Every cell in your body is fully engaged, your senses are humming with pleasure, while your core is pulsing with the intense spasms of your climax.

“Astonishing,” you hear Jimin’s raspy voice as he muses, when he takes the sight of you crumbling beneath him, writhing with pleasure the same way he had pictured you many times before. Only the real thing is way more marvellous that his simple imagination.

The sight of you embracing your orgasm is enough to send him into his own. He picks up his pace, moving and rolling his hips into you, driving his cock deep inside you relentlessly until he comes with a shout and a shudder that takes over his body, his fingers dragging into your ass.

Moments later, once both you and Jimin have come down from the height of bliss, your breathings are steadied, you lie side by side on your bed facing each other.

Jimin had cleaned all the remnants of your lovemaking. The warm, wet cloth which he had used to clean you up had been left discarded somewhere in your bathroom. The sheets beneath you are still messy, but he had pulled the covers on top of you both, shielding you in warmth. Now, as you are looking at his face in a completely new light, having your eyes wide opened with the revelation of his nature, Jimin has his fingers rubbing gently on your wrists, your arms, while stopping briefly at times to massage on your sore fingers. The blood has return to your fingers and shoulders after you kept your arms up the whole time, but Jimin still insists to take care of you, worrying that anytime he stops, the soreness will return to you full force.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough on you on our first night together,” he murmurs as he kisses your palms. “I hope I didn’t hurt you, kitten.”

“No, not at all. You were amazing. It was—everything was amazing,” you tell him, pulling his hands and clasps them in yours.

“You’re not scared of me?” he asks you, and you answer him by shaking your head and smiling sheepishly.

“Of course not.”

He sighs. “I had thought you were, that’s why I was so pissed at myself and had to get away.”

Your lips turn to a pout as you remember how you watched him trying to walk away earlier. Your chest clenches when you thought of him leaving, but you are glad that things had turned out the way they are. “No, I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think—” you stutter, not knowing just where to start or to simply know what to say without sounding like a clueless idiot. “I never knew that you prefer to do it—this way.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

You nod your head slowly, suddenly feeling your face heating up when you remember everything you had just done, how you had reacted to his touches.

“Yes, of course, I’m more than okay, if you haven’t noticed,” you admit with a smile, which he returns with his own when he recalls the way you embraced your orgasm so beautifully in his arms. “I just—I’ve never found anyone who is willing to—” you stop briefly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed about admitting everything. “I, uh—all the other men I’ve been with would never understand.”

Jimin tips your chin up. “Oh, kitten. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not like the others.”

“No, you’re definitely not,” you whisper, and you watch him amusedly as he flips the two of you until you are on your back and he positions himself on top of you, your legs opening wide for him almost instantly.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have met you,” he whispers, and you answer him with, “Me too.”

Then he leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth, and then your lower lip and the bow of the upper one before capturing your mouth. He kisses you long and deep, entwining your tongues together. You feel his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes come to close, his palm pressing at your fece gently, tilting your head at the perfect angle so he could explore you further.

He kisses you until you are both panting, needing more, as if your body isn’t sore and his breathing isn’t heavy. You kiss him back while pressing your hips against his, pulling him down at the back of his neck with one hand, digging your fingers into his arm with the other, anchoring him to you.

He skims his hands up your waist, touching the underside of your breasts with his thumbs until your nipples perk up once again. You moan into his mouth as your whole body tightens, everything inside you pulsing with needs.

“How sore are you, kitten?” he asks, his gaze had already darkened with lust and admiration when he looks at you.

“Sore, but not enough to stop you from fucking me,” you answer, then grinning when you hear his low groan slipping out of his lips.

“No, kitten. There’s no more fucking. Not tonight,” he says, and you are close to feel disappointed when you hear it, until you feel him reaching down, aligning himself right against your entrance. “I’m going make love to you. Gently. Until you fall asleep in my arms,” he whispers, groaning once more as he enters you slowly, spreading your sensitive walls into another round of lovemaking.

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