#if it adds up to ten pages I'm going to laugh

[kaleldobrev]

A Small Favor In Return

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Finding out you’re dating Soldier Boy, your graduate school professor asks you for a small favor. When you tell Ben about it he agrees (much to your surprise) but the only way he’ll do it is if you do a small favor for him in return.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Cursing (20x), Fluff, Drug Use, Smut (Fingering, Oral - M&F receiving, Anal), Use of handcuffs & blindfolds

Authors Note: So this came out a lot longer than I thought it would but I’m happy with the way this came out | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

"Alright class, as a quick reminder, your ten-page essays on World War Two are due next Tuesday," your professor said, audible groans came from a majority of your peers, and you couldn't help but snicker at their response. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I'm such a horrible person for assigning a ten-page paper in graduate school," his tone sarcastic. "But, I may have something special for you all on Tuesday," your peers suddenly all got quiet in anticipation of the news as there was a certain air of excitement. With a quick clap of his hands he said, "But! I'm not telling you now, you have to wait till Tuesday!" More groans. "Get on out of here and see you all next Tuesday! Y/N, can I talk to you before you head out?" Your professor asked as students started filing out of the room.

You looked up at him and gave a small smile. “Sure thing,” you said as you placed your laptop and textbook into your backpack.

Your friend turned to you once she was finished putting her own things into her backpack. “Want me to wait up for you?” She asked, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and standing up.

“No it’s okay,” you stated as you got up from your own chair, holding the straps of your backpack firmly in both of your hands, “I actually have to get home right after this.”

Your friend gave you a smirk. “Date night?”

“Something like that,” you gave her a wink.

“Okay, I wanna hear all about it tomorrow,” she gave you a wink before she made her way out of the classroom.

Walking over to your professor he started placing his papers that he had had on his desk into his briefcase. “You wanted to talk to me Professor?” You asked.

Your professor looked up and stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smile. “Yes, I was hoping I could ask for a favor.”

“A favor?” You gave him a slightly confused expression.

"As you know, I'm not usually one for gossip but, I wanted to know..." he began, clearly hesitant; but you already knew where this was going.

"If I'm actually dating Soldier Boy," you stated bluntly, your tone coming off slightly annoyed. "And the answer is yes," although it's none of your business, you had wanted to add. “I don’t mean to sound rude professor but, what does me dating Be—Soldier Boy, have to do with your favor?”

“Well,” he sounded so nervous, and you had almost felt bad giving him slight attitude — almost. But at the same time, you were getting tired of constantly being asked if it were true that you were dating America’s oldest Supe, as it was usually one of the first things you were almost always asked besides what your name was. “I was hoping that maybe you could ask him if he would be willing to come and talk to the class next Tuesday about his experiences during World War Two and maybe answer some peer questions.”

Your eyes went wide, and you had to actually hold back a laugh at your professors request as there were two major problems with it. The first: as much as Ben loved you (and that man loved you more than he’ll ever admit), the last thing he’d want to do was spend his time talking in front of your college classmates about his experiences during World War Two and answering questions. The second: the man never saw actual battle — it was all fabricated by Vought as a part of a marketing campaign because that’s who his character was. “Umm…” you didn’t know what to say, but you were proud of yourself for not laughing at least. “I think he might be busy that day but I can ask.”

Your professor seemed happy with your answer as he smiled. “Thanks Y/N I really appreciate it,” he said closing his briefcase

You fumbled with your keys as you went to unlock the door of yours and Ben’s shared apartment, but as you reached for the doorknob, you were a little surprised to see that it was unlocked. Odd, you thought. “Are you going to come in or just stand there in the hallway?” You heard Ben call out faintly from behind the door.

A part of you wanted to ask how he knew you were standing there but you knew better than to ask. Damn that super hearing of his, you thought. “Yeah I’m coming in,” you called out opening the door. “Um, why was the door unlocked?”

“It’s 4:30, your class ends at 4,” he said, the sounds of pounding coming from the kitchen — sounds that you assumed where of him using the handle of his hunting knife to crush pills on the wooden dining room table that your grandmother had given the two of you when you moved in. It was the one piece of furniture you had told him repeatedly not to crush his pills on. “I know it takes you half an hour to come home so I thought I’d be nice and actually have the door unlocked for you when you got home.” Your lips turned into a smile at the thoughtful gesture. “Plus, I hate hearing you fumbling with your keys.”

As you walked into the kitchen you saw that your suspicions were correct: Ben was crushing his bennies with the handle of his hunting knife on the wooden dining room table that your grandmother had given you. A piece of furniture that was probably the same age as your boyfriend. "It was a very nice gesture Ben thank you," you said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before you stood behind him wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smirked and started using the blade to make his neat little lines. "What do I get for it?" He asked.

You wanted to roll your eyes. Did this man really want something for doing a nice and decent thing? "Did you want a medal? Or maybe one of those gold star good job stickers?" You asked, your tone sarcastic.

He let out a small chuckle. "No, but a blowjob wouldn't hurt," he smirked again. "Then again, you could give me one regardless if I open the door for you or not because I know how much you love my dick," he smirked.

"And you could not crush your pills on my grandmothers dining room table but we can't always have what we want Sweetie," you gave him another quick peck on the cheek before taking a spot in the chair across from him.

After snorting a line Ben looked at you as he wiped the excess powder from his nose. "What crawled up your ass today Princess? Cause it sure wasn't me," he said, his own tone sounding slightly annoyed.

You took a deep sigh. "I'm sorry I'm just...my professor asked me for a favor," you began.

"It wasn't a sexual favor was it?" He asked, and you just wanted to roll your eyes again, hating that that was the first thing he had thought of. "Cause if it was I have two questions. One, did you kick the guy in the balls, and two, do I need to kick the guy in the balls for you?"

“I’m just going to ignore that and —”

“What? It’s a valid fucking question,” he stated, his hunting knife slightly swinging around.

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Put your knife down before you hurt yourself,” he scoffed, “second, no, it wasn’t a sexual favor Ben, please get your mind out of the gutter even though I know that’s where it basically lives.” He smirked at your comment. “My professor asked me if you could come and speak in front of my class next Tuesday about your experiences during World War Two and answer some questions.”

You sounded silly asking your boyfriend this favor, because you already knew what his answer was going to be. He was going to laugh and say ‘as much as I love you that’s a hard pass.’ “Sure,” Ben said, “but you have to do something for me first.” You looked at him like you were a deer headlights, actually shocked that he had said yes. “You seem surprised Sweetheart.”

“Yeah…I am actually,” your voice a little hesitant sounding. “I uh, I genuinely thought you’d say no.” You let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “What’s the favor?”

“Unlike your professors favor mine is a sexual one,” he smirked.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you grinned. “So, what’s the favor?”

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” you stated, “you know how I feel about blindfolds.” You heard him chuckle a little. You didn’t need to see his face to know the way he was looking at you right now. You were completely naked lying on your back, your hands were handcuffed to the headboard and you were blindfolded. The only part of your body that was free to move around were your legs. This wasn’t an unusual position for you to be in as you and Ben did use handcuffs during sex on the regular, but the blindfold was a new addition as of today.

“Sweetheart the only reason you don’t like blindfolds is because you hate surprises,” which was true, and you could hear a slight attitude in his tone. “You know my usual moves, shouldn’t be that surprising.”

You let out a little laugh. “To be fair, you do look at some weird porn so I wouldn’t be surprised if you found something new you had wanted to try out.”

He scoffed, sounding slightly offended. “I don’t look at weird porn. The porn being made now is fucking weird,” he stated. “Back in my day it wasn’t all this fancy shit and storylines. People just fucked in pornos.”

Thank goodness you had your blindfold on because of the intense eye rolling you just did at his comment. “But I thought you liked a good storyline Ben,” you slightly teased.

“In movies, not in pornos,” he clarified.

“Technically a porno is a movie,” your voice with a slight air of sass to it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled under his breath. “Don’t make me use a gag on you Sweetheart.”

You started grinning. “Wouldn’t be the first time!” Your voice almost sing song. “So are we actually going to have sex or are you just going to talk my ear off all night?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You’re the one being mouthy right now, not me.”

“I’m not the one talking about porno—” before you could finish your statement, you felt the bed dip, one hand was on each thigh spreading your legs apart slightly aggressive (which was considered gentle in his eyes). Nothing happened as you were waiting for him to do something, anything. You knew he was still there as you could still felt the grip he had on your thighs. “Ben?” You asked, a little confusion in your voice.

“What did I say about having a little patience?” He said, his question rhetorical. When it came to sex with Ben you were far from patient (and to be fair, he was far from patient too), but the two of you had tried to be patient with each other in your sex life just as much as you tried to be patient with each other out of the bedroom. All things considered, Ben’s patience had grown since the time you had known him, but there were times when you knew you pushed his buttons just a little too far (which may or may not be on purpose).

“Sorry,” you said, not really meaning it.

“I know you don’t mean it, but I’ll pretend you did,” he stated. “Now,” he began, his arms going underneath your thighs as your legs went over his shoulders, “don’t you dare fucking move,” his tone controlling, but you loved whenever he used this voice; there was just something about it that turned you on like nothing else. To be fair though, you did love his voice in general.

“Okay,” you said, slightly bracing yourself.

“That’s not really the answer I’m going for Princess,” he stated.

“Yes, Sir,” you said, making sure you really emphasized the word.

“That’s better,” you could hear the smirk on his lips. He started kissing your inner thighs, slightly nipping at the skin. The kisses on your inner thighs lasted longer than usual, and you were surprised it lasted this long as he was usually the impatient one when it came to wanting to go down on you. Without any kind of warning he licked a long strip on your clit and you let out a low moan. You felt the urge to arch your back. “Remember don’t fucking move,” he repeated, using the same controlling tone as he did before.

“Yes Sir,” you reply automatic.

With another long and slow lick he started to actually eat you out now like he normally did, and now, you were really fighting the urge to arch your back. Your hands gently moved against the handcuffs, wanting to run your fingers through his hair as you normally did. You felt a small chuckle against your pussy as he knew how hard it was for you not to touch him and to barely move. As much as he loved how responsive you got because of him, he wanted to challenge you not to move — he knew it was going to be hard for you for sure. “Ben, shit,” you moaned, his tongue starting to move in circles on your folds before he delved his tongue inside you.

As if your moan was an encouragement, he took one of his fingers and started circling your clit, adding that extra layer of pleasure. Letting out yet another moan he removed his tongue and replaced it with his two fingers as he started pumping them in and out of you. You wanted to protest at the loss of his mouth but were thankful he replaced that loss so quickly. “How you doin’ Princess?” He asked as he felt you starting to clench around his fingers, causing him to smirk.

“I’m close,” your answer barely audible. He started to pick up the pace slightly with his fingers, and you knew you weren’t going to make it much longer. Removing his fingers, he replaced it with his tongue. Again, you had wanted to arch, but you were really trying not to, but you felt your body wanting to betray you. You started to arch your back slowly, almost automatic and a firm hand was on your stomach.

“What did I say?” His voice just as firm as his hand.

“Fuck, Ben…” you moaned, and you wanted to continue to try and arch but you couldn’t — thankful that your boyfriend did have the strength that he did as he was able to keep you from arching. With the one hand he did have free he placed two fingers back inside of you and started moving them in and out of you at a slightly rapid pace. You clenched around him, and you felt the smirk on his lips. He heard your heart starting to pick up and he knew that you were close. With a few more pumps of his fingers and a few more circles from his tongue you came around his tongue and fingers. As you came, your words started to blend together, not even sounding like remotely anything — mainly gibberish.

Coming down from your orgasm, he removed himself from you and you heard him licking his fingers, a small pop coming from his lips. “Always so fucking sweet,” he commented, slightly amused.

“And this is why I always eat fruit,” you said, almost too proudly. “And reasons why I convinced you too.”

Ben was happy that you had the blindfold on as he gave one of the biggest eye-rolls. “You didn’t…convince me,” he said, knowing that he was lying, as you were the one that did convince him.

“Okay Ben, whatever you say,” your voice going back to that sing song like tone that he secretly loved.

“Ready for me to remove the blindfold Sweetheart?” He asked as he positioned himself between your thighs, still fully clothed.

You nodded your head. “Yes please.” You wanted this blindfold off more than anything. As you felt his hand touch your face to remove the blindfold, his hand wasn’t there just as quick and you frowned. “Ben?”

“I’ll remove it on one condition,” he began. “I went down on you, you do the same for me.”

“I kind of need to see to suck you off Sweetheart,” you commented.

“Hmmm, not unless I fuck that throat of yours you don’t,” the smirk on his voice returning.

“Fuck me,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Later Princess,” you knew he winked. “Besides, you like when I fuck your throat. What did you say the other day about it? Oh yeah, you said it practically makes you cum.” You hated that he was using your words against you, because that’s exactly how you felt about it. The way he did it was slightly rough, but it was also weirdly gentle at the same time.

“Christ on a Cross,” you mumbled.

A chuckle left him. “That’s my line,” he replied. “Alright Sweetheart, open that pretty mouth of yours.”

With some slight hesitation you opened up your mouth and waited for his cock to enter your mouth. The sounds of his pants and boxers fell to the floor. “You ready?” He asked, his hand moving up and down the length of his cock to slightly prep.

“Yes Sir,” you responded. You felt the tip of his cock on your lips, a slight feeling of pre-cum on them. He started moving his cock between your lips and you started tasting the pre-cum on your tongue now. A part of Ben wished you were able to fit his entire length inside of your mouth like your pussy did, but he absolutely loved the sight of you being blindfolded as you took him — he felt himself starting to get harder at the thought.

“You always take my cock so well,” he slightly praised, knowing how much you adored being praised. His hand found it’s way in your hair as he started messing it up (he always thought you were sexier with messed up hair — although he found you gorgeous and sexy no matter what you looked like). Once praising you and satisfied with your slightly messed up hair he started moving his cock in and out of your throat as your tongue started licking him as he did so. You loved the feeling of him fucking your throat but at the same time you loved being able to use your hands as you had the ability to do just a bit more — but you knew having your hands restrained made him feel a little bit more in control, something you were willing to give up once in a while during sex.

His pace started to pick up a bit more, and it was a tad aggressive (not that you minded of course). His hand started playing with your hair and you felt yourself starting to get wet. You started to rub your thighs together, trying to get some sort of release as his cock moved in and out of your mouth. “You wet Sweetheart?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He moved his free hand and a finger dipped ever so slightly into your now soaked pussy. “This really does do it for you huh?” He mused.

He started playing with your clit now lazily with two fingers as he was still too focused of the feeling of your mouth and tongue working his cock like the pro he knew you were. He shut his eyes and removed his fingers so he could bring you to your side more, giving him a better angle. Your tongue worked circles around his cock, and he was starting to miss the handwork you usually do whenever you sucked him off. He placed his fingers on your clit again, and then dipped two fingers inside of you again, moving lazily. Despite it being lazy, the feeling was just enough that you had felt like you were about to cum just like he was about to. “Fuck Sweetheart,” he moaned out. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, slightly throwing his head back as he started to release himself down the back of your throat. Midway through, his fingers went a tad faster and you felt your own orgasm coming to you now. Moaning into his cock you came around his fingers again. “Christ,” he almost sounded impressed.

Removing his cock from your mouth and his fingers from your pussy, you started to breath just a tad heavier as you weren’t expecting another orgasm so soon. Your pussy was sensitive and you weren’t remotely sure if you could handle another orgasm.

You felt his hand on the side of your head as he started removing the blindfold from your eyes. As he removed it, he had the biggest smile on his face. You gave him the same kind of smile back, happy to finally be seeing his face. “Hey,” you said, your voice a little breathy sounding.

“Hey,” he responded back, tossing the blindfold onto the floor. He placed his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it with his thumb. “As much as I wanna wreck that pussy of yours, I know how sensitive it is right now,” he said, and you couldn’t believe how logical he was sounding right now. You simply just nodded in agreement. “So I’m gonna wreck this pretty ass of yours first.” Anal was something that you never really did before with Ben, as you felt that he was probably going to be too big for you. The closest you’ve ever gotten was him using his fingers and tongue on occasion.

“Babe, I don’t think your dick is going to fit in my ass,” you stated.

A grin formed on his lips, “We’ll see about that.”

You were now lying on your stomach, the handcuffs no longer on your wrists, but your arms were underneath a pillow; your face slightly buried in it. “Just relax,” Ben said, his hand smoothing over your ass. “I’ve done this before.”

“Not with me you haven’t!” You exclaimed.

“If you’re that freaked out we don’t have to do it.” His tone was calm.

“I’m not…freaked out it’s just…I’m nervous,” you mumbled the last few words.

“Aw Sweetheart,” he placed a few kisses along your spine, “you know I always take good care of you right?”

You nodded. “I know. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose Ben.”

“Exactly, cause consent and all that,” he said. You had wanted to laugh a little at his comment, proud that he even mentioned the word consent — as consent was something that he had a very hard grasping when you had first met him. “Alright,” Ben started to spread your cheeks apart and you felt the tip of his cock against you. You felt your body start to tense up and you knew he could feel it too. “You gotta relax for me Y/N,” you couldn’t believe how calm his voice sounded right now, all of a sudden there seemed to be so much patience with him. You felt more kisses along your spine and they felt almost comforting. The tip of his cock started to enter you now, and you couldn’t help but be tense. It was a new kind of pressure and sensation that you weren’t really used to. Yes, you and Ben had done things involving your ass before but this was a new level to it.

“Fuckkk,” you breathed out, and you weren’t sure if it was a pleasure sound or an uncomfortable one. You shut your eyes and buried your face into the pillow, your voice sounding muffled now.

“Doing so well Sweetheart,” he praised, the feeling of his cock getting deeper and deeper inside of you. “I think I’m gonna fit just fine.” You didn’t like the sound of ‘I think.’

There was a slight pressure inside of you, and it was a much different kind of fullness than what you were used to. He somehow managed to fit himself completely inside of you and you knew he was extremely giddy about it (a word that you wouldn’t normally use to describe your boyfriend). “How do you feel?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“Great. Fucking fantastic,” you said, your voice slightly radiating sarcasm.

Giving your ass a small smack you let out a tiny sounding yelp, and you felt part of his body on top of your back now. He kissed your neck and leaned into your ear. “Love taking you from behind Sweetheart,” he whispered, placing a small kiss on your shoulder and nipping at it gently. You let out a small moan, closing your eyes at the contact. “Ready?” He asked, and you nodded. “Good,” he kissed your lips quickly before adjusting himself back behind you again as he started moving his dick in and out of your ass.

It was a weird kind of pressure, but also a strangely pleasurable one. You couldn’t help but let out moan after moan and some random gibberish sounding curse words. He didn’t pull himself completely out of you, but he went half way and that was just enough for you. You already felt so full with his very above average cock inside of you, you couldn’t imagine what it would feel like once he came inside.

You bit the pillow as one of his hands splayed across your spine holding you down in place on the bed. “What a fucking view,” he slightly mumbled, “and the sounds you’re making, woo.” He couldn’t help himself but give your ass yet another smack. You were thankful he wasn’t doing it constantly as you knew you wouldn’t have been able to sit down afterward (a feeling that you were relatively used to).

You weren’t sure if you were actually going to cum or not, but you knew that he was at least going to. “Ben, fuck,” your words almost inaudible.

“You’re going to look even more beautiful with my cum inside this ass of yours,” he said, and his words actually started making your heart race. “Someone sounds excited about that,” he smirked. With a new more pumps, he started to release himself and you couldn’t help but let out a guttural type of noise that managed to get muffled by the sounds of the pillow.

You stayed on your stomach as Ben found himself lying down next to you on his back, the biggest grin on his face. You felt exhausted, and wished you had the kind of stamina your boyfriend had. You turned to face each other and he kissed your forehead. “What?” You asked, your voice sounding a little weak.

“Ready for my cock Sweetheart?” He asked, no hint of tiredness in his voice.

“Ben, I don’t have your stamina,” you stated, and you moved your body so your head was now resting on his chest while your legs were intertwined with his. He brought his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I know that,” he said, stating the obvious. His voice sounding a little disappointed.

“Either let me take a little nap or make me a sandwich and I’ll be good to go,” you said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and shutting your eyes.

“Your nap will be quicker than me trying to fix you up a sandwich,” he admitted, closing his eyes too.

A Week Later…

“Thank you so much for doing this Mister —”

“You can just call me Ben,” he said, shaking your professors' hand. God his hand is so fucking sweaty, he thought.

“Ben,” your professor nodded. “Of course." Your professor wasn't usually the nervous type, but for some reason when it came to the topic of Soldier Boy he was like some nervous teenager. "I really do appreciate you taking the time to come out and do this really, and uh," your professor pointed at Ben, "coming in your uniform too. I just know the students are going to be really receptive of you."

"It's honestly not a problem," Ben said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"I'm glad, because the way Y/N made it seem last week was that this was something you'd rather not be doing," he let out a nervous chuckle.

"To be fair, I did say he might of been busy," you chimed in, correcting your professors words. "Private contractor and all that," you smiled.

"She's also a wonderful convincer," he smirked. "Aren't you Sweetheart?"

"Yep, I practically have him wrapped around my finger," you grinned, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a small squeeze.

"She's funny this one," Ben let out a chuckle — a fake one — but he knew how much you truly did have him wrapped around your fingers, something he never thought a woman would ever be able to do to him. You may not be a Supe, but you did have one superpower, and that power was somehow making him fall in love with you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @zepskies

If you want to be added to a tag list let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon

[spencersssockss]

Library

Summary: You meet Spencer at the library when going to check out The Fisher King…

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 700

Ally: This is based loosely off the fisher king episode kinda but not really, sorry about the length!! I plan on having a second part to this one soon!!! Enjoy lovelies!

You loved reading, any free time you had was spent reading, and it served as a distraction.

Your friend had been telling you about a book she had recently heard of, it was called The Fisher King, you did a tremendous amount of research on it only to find out the only possible way to read it would be to get it from your local library as it was no longer being sold due to its old age and rarity.

You decided to visit the library after work to pick it up, luckily someone had just returned it, and just as you were checking out a nerdy, tall, and lanky man walked towards the front desk next to you.

“Do you mind if I read that book in your hand before you leave?” “it'll only take like ten minutes,” he quickly said eyes bright as he bounced his foot nervously.

“Ten minutes?” you questioned cocking an eyebrow.

Spencer bit his cheek for a second before replying, “I have an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute, I know it sounds crazy but just trust me, it's really important,” he mumbled quickly.

“I-uh okay,” you stuttered handing him the book.

Taking the book in his hands, Spencer carefully flipped through it, fingers running over every page as he read, his eyes glancing over the words quickly, taking in every detail. After what seemed like only a few seconds, he closed the book and handed it back to you with a small smile.

“There's no way you read that all,” you blurted eyes widening.

“I promise, I did. My name's Spencer Reid by the way,” he said extending his hand for you to shake.

you shook it hesitantly still in disbelief.

With a smile, Spencer continued, “I'm a psychologist and criminal profiler for the FBI, always on the lookout for new books to read, this time it was actually for a case.”

You gasped in realization, you remembered before you graduated he had done a lecture at your college. “I've seen you before, you do lectures right?” you asked.

Spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he nodded. "Yeah, I've given several lectures on various topics, mostly about the human mind and behavior."

“You're one of the reasons I became a counselor,” you smiled.

Spencer smiled warmly, "That's amazing. I'm glad to have played a small part in your journey." He glanced around the library, trying to think of something else to say. "Would you like to get coffee or something sometime?”

“Absolutely, do you want my number?” you asked breaking into a smile.

"I'd love your number," Spencer replied, pulling out his phone. He tapped on the screen a few times before handing it over to you. "Here, add your number, sorry for not asking your name earlier, if you don't mind me asking now what is it?” he blushed slightly.

“it's y/n,” you smiled putting in your number and handing his phone back to him.

"Thank you, Y/N," Spencer said, pocketing his phone. He couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the interaction. It was rare for him to meet someone who understood and appreciated his work so deeply. "Well, I should probably get back to my research now.”

“Yeah, sorry for keeping you so long,” you blushed holding the book against your chest.

"It's quite alright," Spencer reassured you with a gentle smile. "I hope we can catch up again soon, maybe over that coffee or even another book." He waved goodbye before disappearing into the stacks of the library.

You stood there for a moment still in disbelief at what had just happened, the librarian laughed before saying, “he's a cutie isn't he?”

You blushed deeply turning to face her to answer, “Just a little,” you mumbled making her laugh again.

“He works for the FBI actually,” she added laughing again as your eyes widened.

“Good to know,” you smiled waving at her as you left the library and headed home to read the book. Which would probably take YOU a lot longer than ten minutes.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencerreidssockss #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine

[pumpkinbirth]

Porion Game

Baby Base : Black - demon baby

Add ons

Horny pregnancy

Extra big baby

Girl just learning Latin for school is misled into buying a Latin demon summoning book (instead of a generic learning book) summons demon who ends up impregnation her.

potion ask game

In retrospect, you really should have chosen a different language credit.

Instead, here you were holed up in your dorm, thinking you'd scored quite a bargain by going with whatever book in Latin you could find at the secondhand store rather than shelling out hundreds for the "required reading" your professor had assigned you. It was all Latin all the same, right? You figured you could skirt by with…whatever this is.

The title was illegible, but one quick flip through of the yellowed pages was enough to confirm it would do. There were more illustrations in it than you expected, some of them a little…lewd. You'd eventually tried your best to start focusing on the text itself, before getting too distracted.

"Okay, let's see…dicat…" you absently licked your thumb to brush off whatever was dusted on the page before starting again. "Dicat dominus daemon uterum meum."

Before you could even think or begin copying the strange sentence down, an intense warmth flowed through your body. You barely managed to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a sudden moan, your vision going fuzzy as another surge of heat spread through you.

"Wh…what's ha-aahn…!!" Another moan escaped you, and you noticed your skin had a light sheen of sweat now. Without thinking you started shedding your clothes, hands shaking as the strange pleasure pulsed somewhere deep inside you. When you were fully naked you could've sworn you heard a faint, deep chuckle, even though you were still alone in your room. Phantom voices were the least of your concern, because now that you were nude you could see the symbols materializing on your stomach. Not only that, but your previously flat tummy now had a noticeable swell forming, and it didn't show any signs of stopping.

Clearly, reading aloud from that book had been a very big mistake.

Your legs shook as you managed to cross the room to your bed, your breaths quick and sharp with both fear and inexplicable pleasure. Whatever was happening to you, it felt incredible. You kept your legs spread as you sat, as it was the only way to make room for your belly, which had rounded out well past your breasts and emitted a faint red glow from the symbols marking it. In mere minutes you'd gone from normal to looking nine, hell maybe even ten months pregnant, and judging from the insistent movements you felt inside you, you were soon about to find out with what.

Even that you couldn't think clearly about, instead letting your base instincts take over as your hands explored the curves of your new body, softly whimpering as your fingertips circled your clit. You were just barely able to reach under your taut belly to touch yourself, heat radiating from the swell. The faintest brush of pressure on your clit felt electric, your cunt already slick and dripping and eagerly welcoming your fingers inside. Your free hand was occupied with one of your tits, your nipples now dark and incredibly sensitive.

"Oh fuck, fuck I'm cumming, cu--!!" you cut yourself off with a squeal of pleasure, panting as the most intense orgasm of your life overcame you. You'd never squirted before, yet now you were practically gushing with fluid. In fact, it didn't seem to be stopping…but before your mind caught up with what had happened you felt an intense pressure inside you, much different from before. The symbols on your belly glowed brighter than before, and the realization hit you at last: whatever you were pregnant with, now you were giving birth to it.

That disembodied laugh echoed through your head again as you carefully repositioned yourself, your sweaty back pressed to your headboard as you drew your legs up to your sides, the air of the room feeling nearly ice cold against your cunt. When the next contraction came you cried out, but not exactly with pain. In fact, as you tentatively bore down with your first push, your body quaked with what felt like another orgasm. You swore you could feel yourself rapidly dilating, a process that normally took hours happening within seconds.

"Mnh, c-come on…" you panted, unable to take much more of this overstimulation. Despite how quickly your labor was progressing, it still felt like you had so much more to go. The baby, if that's what it was, felt so big as you urged it further down. No matter how good giving birth felt, the rational part of your mind screamed that you needed to get this out of you now.

Another push and you were finally rewarded with feeling your sensitive lips parting, held taut and open by the head as it crowned. "Please, please baby just a little m-more…!" you pleaded aloud, voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. Gritting your teeth you bore down again, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you opened even more, the shoulders briefly stretching you impossibly wide before finally passing through. With the last of your strength you gave one final push, until you were rewarded with the hot rush of the rest of your baby being born.

You let out a sob of relief, your breaths hoarse and ragged as you brought the child closer to you; you could easily mistake it for any other baby, were it not for the soft nubs of what you knew would eventually be horns. The voice came again, now clear as day right in your ear:

"Well done…"

#pumpkin answers #pumpkin writes #pregnancy kink #labor kink #birth kink #rapid pregnancy

[moralesmilesanhour]

what you're searching for.

summary: Margo goes to a shitty poetry slam and gets more out of it than she expects. wc: 4.9k warnings: alcohol consumption, and it's like very VERY lightly implied that they had an Adult Sleepover if you get my meaning. Nothing really too suggestive in here I promise. One singular reference to a tiktok. a/n: this took me a whole ass week but I'm very proud of where my writing style is going! somewhat inspired by the film 'Love Jones'. If you enjoyed this pls feel free to leave your thoughts or your favorite line if you have one! EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD: the first poem is actually taken from the Junior novel 'Miles Morales: Suspended' by Jason Reynolds! The poem at the end is mine though lmao I'm not the best poet

Margo can’t stand poetry.

Someone gets up in front of you with a piece of paper clutched in their hands, and recites what is simultaneously the most vague and the most painfully obvious string of fragmented sentences you’ve ever heard as if they’d just touched your soul.

It’s not rapping, not preaching, but the ugly middle child standing between them. Some odd bastardization of music for people who thought they were too smart for either of the first two, but weren't brave enough to just give speeches.

Speeches, at least, are coherent, specific, and can be scrutinized.

So far, sitting in the front row of the bar that her classmate Zoe had invited her to for poetry night, no one has changed her mind. 

Tonight’s performances consisted of an assembly line of men (and a couple of women) in vintage sweaters ranting about their exes to the rhythm of bongo drums, or some mildly relevant social issue that none had the lexicon to really say anything in stanzas that hasn’t already been said. She had heard nothing yet that sounded much more profound than an Instagram post.

Although, one girl had come up and recited a short poem about her late mother that Margo thought was quite sweet, and the least tortuous to sit through.

The crowd erupted in snaps again for a poet with long braided dreads and an ankh tattoo whose words she had tuned out. The host took the mic and announced the final (thank god) participant:

“Now this next one I had to practically drag over here to get him to share his beautiful poetry with us tonight. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of my close friends and colleagues, Miles Morales!”

A lanky young man–Margo suspects about six feet even, given the way he’s towering over the host–awkwardly shuffles over to the center of the stage, offering the crowd a tight-lipped smile. 

He’s in a plain green sweater with the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows and a bomber jacket tied around his waist. As soon as he’s handed the microphone, it seems to dawn on him that there’s no turning back, and his body visibly tenses. 

He clearly just got here, and for once Margo doesn’t know what to expect.

Squinting beneath the bright spotlight, he clears his throat and speaks into the mic. 

“Um, hi.”

A few scattered ‘hi’s from the crowd.

There’s something bright and sweet in the tone of his voice that makes him sound a little boyish, and she wonders what he could possibly have under his sleeve that warranted him getting dragged up here last minute.

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s said

That nobody

Is ever more

Than ten feet

From a spider.”

Miles began the poem carefully, like he was confessing something. 

“They be everywhere you and me are.”

A few members of the crowd laugh, others shudder at the thought and frown. 

“And even though

We see them only

When they big enough to see, or when

They move,

Like a cursor

Across the blank white

Page of a wall…”

His voice loses some of its airiness in exchange for confidence as he recites the rest of the poem, and Margo realizes that he isn’t reading off of anything. 

Either he’s improvising, or he has it entirely memorized.

“Or when we trip

The web-like wire

Of a booby trap

Or when they

Fang our flesh

We should probably

Assume most

Just be right there…”

Miles paused and looked somewhere far beyond the crowd, lifting his arm to point to the back of the room. Then he repeated:

“Right there,

Right here,”

He gestures toward the front row, where his eyes land directly on Margo. It’s not so close to the stage that she can tell for sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“Looking at us,

Looking over them.”

Silence. 

His arm falls limply to his side as his eyes frantically scan the audience, searching for some kind of response. 

Then, someone begins to clap. Then another. Then another. WIthin moments, the entire room erupts in applause, causing a shy smile to spread across the young man’s face.

“Uh, thank you!” he says, surprised at the positive reception, before shrinking into himself again and leaving the stage the same way he came.

The host returns and takes the mic from him.

“Miles Morales, everybody!”

-

After the poetry slam, Margo insisted that Zoe take her to the sushi place across the street. It had a bar sitting off to the side, one with significantly less poets. The decorative lights hung directly above the shelf filled with glass bottles and shrouded them in cherry red.

Zoe takes a sip of her sherry and leans in.

“Sooo, how was it?”

“It was a’ight.”

The light-skinned girl’s lips pull into a pout. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I told you poetry wasn’t my thing,” Margo pauses, then amends, “I liked the last guy, though. Breath of fuckin’ fresh air.”

“Right? His style really caught my attention, subtle.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she glanced just beyond Margo’s shoulder.

When Margo turned towards the familiar voice and froze. 

The poet in question was standing just inches away, a friendly smile gracing his features. His jacket is no longer around his waist, neatly folded over his arm like an expensive coat. He is with the excitable darker-skinned man who’d just hosted the event, and a man the shade of sandalwood standing just behind him.

They’re both wearing the same type of muted cardigan as Miles, but they’ve got actual coats.

“Y’all were in the front, right?” Miles asks the both of them, though he’s only looking at Margo.

She nods wordlessly. Zoe picks up the slack.

“M-hm, you were great up there! You’ve really never shown anyone your work ‘till tonight?”

Miles snorts at the wording of the phrase. ‘His work’.

“I wrote that poem in high school,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, but my roommate…” 

He gives the dark-skinned man a dirty look. 

“...swiped my journal and found it. Told me I should read it out loud somewhere.”

Margo examines Miles’ face and imagines him as a baby-faced high-schooler, sitting in the back of the classroom with a protective arm around the beat-up red composition notebook he’s writing in. He stuffs it in his bag as soon as he’s done, because he has just poured his heart out onto that page, and his crush’s name is in there. Maybe there are tiny doodles of her in the margins.

“Yo,” the sandalwood-colored man claps Miles on the shoulder. “We about to hit up Tiff’s place, you coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Miles nods dismissively. “I’ll catch up with y’all.”

The two other men give each other a knowing look before brushing past him.

“Alright man, catch you later then.”

Once she finally regains the ability to speak, Margo remarks, “You were the only performance I really liked, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah, this one hates poetry,” Zoe places a hand on Margo’s shoulder and laughs. “Tried to change her mind by bringing her over here, but no dice.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What made mine so different?”

“Hm, I dunno…” Margo’s eyes float over his form before making their way back up to his face. “Your delivery, I guess.”

Safe to say, he looks amusedly unconvinced.

“My…delivery.”

She catches herself and quickly adds, “I-I mean, it also kinda felt like everyone else was trying too hard. So.”

He tilts his head at the remark.

“Are you just saying that to flatter me?”

.“I don’t flatter people. Too close to lying.”

“That sounds like half a poem already. Maybe you should go up there next week.”

She gives him a lopsided smile.

“Only if you’re there. I need something to actually look forward to.”

His tongue darts out and passes over his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Margo.”

Miles hums, softly repeating the name before inching his way over to the counter where he leans his hip on it.

“Pretty. Can I buy you a drink, Margo?”

She doesn’t think her name is all that pretty, but he makes it sound that way.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe teases as she rises from her seat. “I’m gonna go order us some sushi.”

Miles takes the stool to Margo’s left as he waits on their drinks, his long legs never needing to leave the ground to do so.

He has a funny way of sitting, hands folded neatly in front of him with his back just a few degrees off from being perfectly straight. As if you needed to look distinguished at a sushi bar.

Church boy, Margo guessed. That, or his daddy’s a military man.

It’s adorable either way.

“You in school?” she asked.

“Yup. Princeton.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, me too! I’ve never seen you on campus, though. What’s your major?”

“Physics. You?”

“Comp Sci. Been coding since I was in middle school, so…”

Margo remembers the echoing ‘click-clack’ of her keyboard as she sat in an empty computer lab for hours on end after school because she preferred it to her parents’ house.

The bartender hands Miles two glasses of white wine, and he sets the second glass in front of Margo, his warm eyes still focused on her. 

She’s intrigued by how clear they are - no trace of suspicion or calculation behind them. Just the warmth.

“So, where you from? My folks are over in Brooklyn.”

“Georgia.”

Miles’ brows jump to his hairline.

“Damn. What brought you all the way up here?”

To get as far away as possible. 

“Well, it’s Princeton,” she says beneath a forced laugh.

“Yeah, but you got, like, eight different HBCUs over there. How’d Princeton win you over?”

Margo breaks eye contact to stare into her drink.

“Needed a change of pace.”

When she looks up to gauge Miles’ reaction, skepticism is written all over his face. But he doesn’t push it further.

“That’s fair. Princeton’s got a cutting-edge quantum physics program that I’m aiming for. Had to beg my parents to come here,” he grins proudly, “but here I am.”

Margo is silent for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly, beckoning Miles to lean in.

“Yeah?”

Grinning, she half-whispers, “I’m actually here on a scholarship.”

He gives her an odd look. 

“Why’d you say it like that? Nothin’ wrong with getting a full ride. The opposite, actually.”

“Some people might feel otherwise. You’re like, the second person I’ve told other than my parents.”

“And why me?” Miles chuckles. “My poetry was just that good?”

“I just…Hm.”

Margo leans back and takes a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. 

Why did she just tell him that?

“I guess I just sorta felt like telling you.”

Margo cautiously sets the wine back down. She figures if she’s not careful, he’ll have her full government name and social security number by the end of the night.

“Y’know, I actually get that a lot,” Miles laughs. “One time, I had this lady I was standing in line with at Target turn around and just start telling me stories about her dead son and how much she misses him. And it’s like, I’m sorry for your loss, but we’re in Target right now and I literally do not know you.”

“Wait, people just go up to you and…tell you shit?”

“Yup. There was this other time at church, too. Just as service ends and I’m about to get up and leave, this short old dude–Dominican, I think–stops me and starts telling me about his entire life. I’m talking start to finish! Apparently I reminded him of his nephew that died in the military or something.”

“Jesus.”

A crease forms between Margo’s brows. She wishes she could say she didn’t understand the old man at church or the lady at Target, but she does. No, it’s not the poetry. It’s got nothing to do with words. 

It’s the way that Miles looks at people. 

Like he already knows all of your secrets, but you’re not worried because they’re safe with him, so might as well tell them. It’s a merciful sort of gaze; you get the impression that he won’t judge you. You might even tell him more after his friendly ‘boy-next-door’ voice coaxes them out of you. The thought unsettles her because she had done just that.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?” She asks, all of a sudden.

Miles shrugs, “Yeah, in tenth grade, then again freshman year. Didn’t really work out.”

“Why not?”

His brows furrow gently for just a second, as if he’s still trying to figure out the answer to that.

“I…don’t know, actually. It goes well the first few months and then…”

“It fizzles out?”

“I get ghosted. Something about how they’re ‘not ready’. Understandable, I guess, but you don’t have to ghost me, y’know?”

He awkwardly examines his fingers, then his glass. 

Margo feels a bit guilty for suddenly bringing up his exes when they’d just met. Would they end up the same way? She saw herself there too, being in a relationship for six months before his weird pastor’s eyes get to be a bit too much and she takes off.

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

“It’s no problem,” a smile starts to return to his face. “Onto better things, right?”

“Right.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“You ever been in a relationship before?”

Margo smiles awkwardly and messes with one of her fingernails.

“Well…not exactly.”

Miles’ eyes widen.

“Never?”

“I mean, guys offer, and then we talk for a little bit, but then…”

“They flake out on you.”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn shame,” he says with a bit of sharpness to his voice. “Not even a first date?”

“Nope, just ‘Read at 4:15’.”

“You know what I think it is?”

Just as he asks this, his knee brushes against her thigh. Margo isn’t sure if it’s an accident, but it distracts her nonetheless.

“What?”

“You’re too smart for them, I can tell. It scares ‘em.” But it doesn’t scare me, is the suggestion.

He smiles then, the kind that shows the whiteness of his teeth on every vowel. It’s wide enough that a dimple comes out of hiding on his left cheek, and she suddenly wants to tell him everything again. She takes another sip of wine.

“So! What’d I miss?”

Zoe finally returns from ordering their sushi at the front with an expectant grin. Miles still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her friend, while she is staring at him like a string of code, which, if you know Margo, is better than nothing.

“You didn’t miss much,” says Margo. “We were just talkin’ about our majors. School stuff.”

Miles checks his phone and lets out a low whistle.

“Well, it was lovely meeting y’all, but I gotta bounce. After getting dragged onstage, I get to be dragged over to a house party, too.”

Just as he rises from his seat, he stops and points at her.

“Before I go, though, d’you mind giving me your digits? I’d love to talk about, uh…computer science…over lunch.”

She snorts, “Who still says ‘digits’?” but hands him her phone anyway. 

It couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Sure.”

His eyes light up as if he wasn’t expecting her to say yes as he saves his number as ‘poetry slam guy’ in her phone, then hands it back.

“Cool,” Miles begins his walk towards the entrance backwards, holding eye contact for just a little longer before turning around. “G’night!”

“Goodnight!” the two women call out in unison as he leaves.

Margo looks to her left at the now-empty bar stool. The glass of wine Miles left on the counter is full, completely untouched.

It’s still on her mind as she's sitting in her single dorm room, re-writing her lecture notes on cyber security in a meticulous neat print that could almost pass for a font.

Every few minutes her pen stops because she’s distracted by the sound of clinking glass in boxes downstairs, or because she pauses to stare at the white wall in front of her that brings to mind one of the lines of Miles’ poem. 

There might be a spider that I can’t see sitting ten feet away from me right this second, she muses to herself. The thought gives her an idea, and the perfect excuse to call him without seeming too desperate.

Margo unlocks her phone and scrolls through her contacts. She smiles to herself at the contact name Miles chose. Did he think she’d forget his name that easily? 

His voice soon filters through the speaker.

“Hey, you didn’t throw out my number!”

“Yup, lucky you.” she replies. “I wanted to ask you a question? About your poem the other night.”

“What about it?”

“See, I was thinking about that first line. Are we really never more than ten feet away from a spider? Like, at any given moment?”

There’s a moment of silence from Miles before he asks:

“You…called me just to ask me that?”

“What? It’s a very pressing issue! There’s probably one in the corner  of my room as we speak!”

“Alright, I’ll humor you,” Miles laughs. “That’s actually a myth from the 90s. Your distance from the nearest spider really depends on where you’re at, so if you’re in a spot with hella bugs, you’re more likely to see one. You’re probably fine.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Margo gasps dramatically. “So you lied to all those poor folks in there?”

“Sure did. Played ‘em all like a fiddle.”

“Terrible.”

“So, why’d you really call? You don’t sound as concerned about spiders as you say you are, if I’m being honest.”

So much for an excuse.

“Don’t nothing get past you, huh?”

This earns a burst of laughter from Miles’ end.

“You’re a worse liar than me, I wouldn’t recommend making it a habit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Margo admits,  “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You could hear my voice in real life, you know. Offer’s still on the table, and I’m free today.”

Their second conversation, and already a lunch date? But as she’s reminded of what his voice sounds like, she quickly realizes that just the voice is not enough. 

Still, she tries to sound casual and makes a non-committal noise.

“Better than being cooped up in my room all day.”

“Great! Where you wanna go?”

Margo shrugs as if he can see her on the other end.

“Wherever you wanna go.”

“Ah, the ‘wherever you wanna go’ paradox,” he chuckles. “Okay, well–lemme ask you this then. Do you like eating with or without music?”

There’s a beat of silence as she considers.

“Hm…is the music good?”

“I’d never subject anyone to a place that plays shit music. Promise.”

“Music, then.”

“Cool, what time works for you?”

“How does two sound? I’ll catch you in front of the Engineering Library.”

“Bet. See you in an hour, then!”

-

The place Miles chose had a live band playing at the front.

A bass player, a keyboard pianist, a saxophonist, and a few background vocalists on occasion. All are propelled forward by the rapid-fire snare of the drummer. It’s jazz - the easy, conversational kind you hear in the background of 90s romantic comedies where the love interest wears nothing but dark lip liner and filled-in brows with a bit of smokey eyeshadow in the crease.

This is the look that Margo has decided to go for as she sits across from Miles at a mahogany table positioned ideally by the window.

It was all she could do other than frantically adjust the braided 'fro-hawk sitting atop her head and spin around in a mist of ‘Champagne Toast’ before bolting out the door.

She doubts he can even smell it right now through the curry and garlic.

“Figured out what you want yet?” Miles asks as he looks over his menu at Margo.

“Eh, I dunno,” she replies, running her index finger down her own menu. “I’m tryin’ not to blow half my paycheck on pasta right now.”

Miles gives her a strange look, then it clicks.

“Oh! Lunch is on me,” he laughs. “Your bank account’s safe for now.”

Her head snaps up.

“You should’ve mentioned that! I thought we were going half and half this whole time, I had my whole budget for the week planned out.”

Margo has to hold back an ugly cackle at the look of horror on Miles’ face right after she says this.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

With this new information in mind, she orders a bowl of chicken alfredo with a glass of lemonade that she sips on as the band seamlessly transitions into a cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

“So, Margo,” Miles rests his chin on his knuckles and squints his eyes comically. 

“If that is your real name.”

Margo giggles, and plays along.

“It’s not, it’s my alter-ego for when I go on top-secret missions.”

“Is it short for something? Or just Margo?”

“Hm,” she puts on an affected, ‘action movie’ voice, “If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

“It’s worse ways to die out there.”

Margo looks around her as if to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in.

“It’s short for Marguerite.”

Miles snaps his fingers.

“I knew it!”

“What? You think I look like a Marguerite? Seriously?”

“No, but you got a lil’ country twang in your voice. Ain’t no way in hell Margo wasn’t short for something.”

“Man, alright,” she laughed. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he winked, “I like ‘em country.”

“Boy, don’t give me that! You look like you’d pass out at the sight of a jar of pig’s feet.”

“Hey now, I got family in South Carolina. I used to go down there and see about ten of those every summer.”

“Fine, but you were still raised a Northerner. I could hear the Brooklyn from a mile away.”

Miles removed his hand from under his chin to clutch his chest.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds!”

The reference to one of the more choice lines from the poetry slam makes Margo snort and let out a loud guffaw, which she quickly muffles with the palm of her hand.

“Why would you remind me of that!”

Miles is soon infected by the fit of laughter and has to put all his strength into not doubling over at the table and drawing attention.

“This nigga said,” he wheezed, “ ‘I keep doing the Achy Breaky to Suavemente!’ “

“I thought I was the only one who thought that shit sucked,” Margo sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But I didn’t wanna be mean ‘cuz I’m not like, half Puerto Rican, or anything like that.”

“Well I am, and that whole poem felt like a microaggression. And I knew that guy!” He starts gesturing wildly with his hands at the outrage, which Margo finds hilarious. 

“He's like, one-eighth Boricua. His last name is fuckin’ Schwartz!” Miles scoffs, “He don’t know shit about no damn ‘Suavemente’. Bet he looked it up.”

“You should write your own poem, then. ‘Take up space’, as they say.”

“Hell no,” he said. “I left that behind in high school. The other night was an exception, remember?”

“Look, I’m not one to encourage more people to become poets, but you never know. Something might inspire you.”

Miles calms down and gives her a meaningful look.

“Maybe.”

The rest of the conversation saw Miles slyly gathering intel through bites of roasted chicken. He’d quickly learned from their meeting at the bar that his line of questioning with Margo ought to be less direct.

He even hit her with the ‘what’s your sign’ question, though Biggie would’ve advised against it (Margo was a Libra, he was a Leo). He didn’t actually care for astrology, but Margo wasted no time in proclaiming that she couldn’t stand Scorpios because they were ‘too nosy’. 

Miles’ only error was asking if she’d ever dated–correction–spoken to one, and her eyes hardened with suspicion again. He quickly elected to change the subject.

“Okay, totally random question, but humor me. How do you like your eggs?”

Margo blinks twice.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can tell a lot about a person by what kinda eggs they like, true shit.”

“Alright, fine. I like ‘em fried, with the crispy edges. What that say about me?”

“I dunno, but when I find out it’ll all make sense.”

Margo laughs.

“Okay, well, how do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, fluffy,” A childish grin spread across Miles’ lips. “And seasoned with Adobo to make ‘em all orange.”

“Never had ‘em like that before.”

“Maybe I could make some for you sometime, if you’d let me.”

“Maybe.”

She remembers his promise a month later when she wakes up to the aroma of the seasoning and hears the pop of frying oil, letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that Miles is still there.

His back is facing her when she enters the kitchen, the morning light illuminating a tattoo she had never seen before. 

It’s a spider with sprawling legs that cascade all the way down the expanse of skin, the movement of his shoulder blades bringing them partially to life. She hadn’t noticed it in the dark, and he was not one to walk around in anything revealing enough for it to have ever seen daylight. It’s faded, which means he’s likely had it for years.

He’s only twenty-one, she thinks. Did he get it in high school?

Amusement creeps onto Margo’s face at the image of Miles sneaking around the house, darting in and out of the bathroom to clean it without his hawk-eyed mother or straight-edged father taking notice. Picturing this, it’s suddenly much easier to believe that their son would have to beg and plead for them to send him a measly forty-six miles away for school, even for an Ivy League. 

Miles doesn’t turn around yet, but Margo catches the way he stops, tilting his head playfully and placing a hand on his hip.

���Man, I can’t believe I’mma have to eat this whole thing of scrambled eggs all by myself, with the ones I just fried! How sad.” “You’re not very funny,” Margo says with a smile, pulling out a chair from beneath the dining table.

He switches the stove off, then does a dramatic spin to face her with fake surprise on his face.

“Oh! Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you there.”

He turns back around to grab two plates–ceramic ones, not the stack of styrofoam ones–from one of the cupboards to serve the eggs in, starting with fried.

Margo watches him silently. The tiny, squint-or-you-might-miss-it gold chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, and she remembers feeling the cold metal brush across her lips.

“The fried ones, are they–”

“Crispy at the edges?” he finishes, with a smile in his voice. “Yes ma’am!”

“You could really be a detective, can’t get nothing past you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“See?”

The two burst into laughter, and the ink on Miles’ back does also. His poem was accurate, in a way. For the past five weeks, Margo has been no more than ten feet away from a spider.

They have a brief and quiet breakfast, wherein Margo finally asks to try the scrambled eggs and is delighted by the burst of flavor added by the Adobo. They aren’t too dry or too soggy the way they tend to be in restaurants - just fluffy, as promised. She thinks it might be time to finally start taking Miles at his word as she watches his back again while he’s washing dishes.

Once he is fully dressed and about to leave, Miles stops suddenly, as if he’s forgotten something. He reaches into the left pocket of his jacket and pulls out a neatly-folded sheet of paper, nervously running his other hand through the short dreads sitting atop his head.

“Before I leave, I, uh…I took your advice and wrote a lil’ something.”

He hands it to Margo, who takes it gingerly. 

“Well, good for you.”

“It’s been a while, so it’s kinda rough, but hopefully the sentiment is there.”

Miles plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and she smiles easily for once as opposed to the usual raised eyebrow.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

Some time after he leaves, she finally sits down to read it while sipping on a cup of tea, because coffee wreaks havoc on her nerves. His handwriting is strange, overly graphic as if it’s the title card of a cartoon, but she reads it.

I know you don't like poetry 

but you said you liked mine,

and the way you sip your wine

has set my pen to paper,

so I hope 

you'll make another exception. 

You've already claimed

half of my sketchbook 

because I just can't get your eyes right.

I always make ‘em too soft,

or too round.

They don't pierce through me,

like they did when

you stared at me over your glass,

eyes narrowed.

When you search my face

and pick me apart,

I'd like to know what it is 

you're always searching for.

#miles morales fic #margo kess #flowerbyte #cybershock #cyberflower #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #moralesanhour

[estella2707]

Impossible Standards

Chapter 2

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Anthony walked into the drawing room with the mail in his hands as he tossed on it on the table, then sitting down to read the daily newspaper. Eloise immediately got up and ran over to the table as she grabbed the latest Lady Whistledown and sat down in her chair as she began reading.

"Boring...boring....oh well look at this, seems like we have our new Diamond of the season" Eloise says surprised. "Already?" Violet says. "The season has barely even started yet! Who is it my dear?" She asks as Eloise looks over the pages. "Oh my goodness it's a princess!" Eloise says excitedly. Everyone perks up interested. "A princess?" Everyone says collectively. "Yes indeed, the Princess of Spain to be exact! Gosh I wonder what she's like...it says here that she arrived a few days ago and is currently staying at the Queen's Palace." Eloise says. "It says here that her name is....y/n l/n, gosh what a unique name but I guess it's quite fitting for a princess" Eloise finishes.

Anthony felt his heart stop as his face flushed and his palms started to sweat. "y/n l/n....bloody hell" Anthony sighs. "Something wrong brother? You seem quite paler than usual" Benedict says as he chuckles. "Nothing...I'm fine" Anthony says annoyed. "Why would a princess need to find a suitor here? Surely there's tons of great men back home..." Violet says curiously. "Maybe she got sick of them constantly chasing after her" Colin says. "But that's surely still going to happen here and it'll probably be ten times worse now that she's diamond of the season!" Benedict adds.

"Brother what do you think about her?" Colin asks as he looks over at Anthony. "She sounds quite...pretentious" Anthony says annoyed. Pretentious? You don't even know her! Eloise says. "What if you run into her at a ball? This could become quite the opportunity brother!" Benedict says. "You get with her you'll become her prince and be in lined with the Spanish throne" Benedict says. "Oh nonsense Benedict, your brother needs to focus on finding a real wife not chasing after some fantasy" Violet says. "Oh come on mother think about it! Our family could become apart of royal blood! We could be of even greater status, come on brother isn't she exactly what you've been looking for?" Benedict says as he smirks.

Anthony thinks for a moment as he sighs. "Can you imagine the scandal? A lord and a princess together....but it does seem like the perfect way to boost our family name" Anthony chuckles. "But she probably wouldn't even look my way, let alone fall for me" Anthony says as he recalls their last encounter. "Oh come on brother you can swoon any girl with that charm of yours plus most of the ladies this season are already gonna be flocking after you, there's no way you'll go unnoticed!" Benedict says. Anthony sighs as he thinks for a moment. Swoon the princess? But what if she still hates me? What if she really is immune to my charm? Why did she come out here out of all places to find a suitor? A million questions run through his head as he sighs. "You know what...I'm in! I love a good challenge and the princess seems like the perfect candidate." Anthony declares as Benedict laughs. "I knew you'd come around brother! So it's settled then swoon the stuck up princess and make her fall in love with you and you'll be beside her on the throne in no time!" He says.

"Doesn't that seem a bit...wrong?" Daphne says softly. "I mean she is still just a girl...." She says. "Oh nonsense sister you need not worry it's not like she'll ever find out anyway, it'll be fine!" Benedict says.

Daphne thinks it's wrong? Anthony thinks to himself. It may be a bit dishonest but she was rude to him first! And this opportunity for him and his family name is to good to pass up on. He thinks to himself.

"Well luckily for you the Queen is hosting a ball tomorrow at her Palace and our family already received a formal invitation." Violet says. "Perfect then, the plan is officially set in motion!" Benedict and Colin chuckle as Eloise scoffs. "Bastards..." She mutters under her breath.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony x you #anthony x reader #bridgerton #anthony x princess #enimes to lovers #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #violet bridgerton #daphne bridgerton

[vodika-vibes]

Round 4 *ding ding ding*

(This definitely feels like I'm taking advantage of you)

Tup and "Either go to bed and get some rest willingly or will drag your butt down the hall kicking and screaming. You know I'll have no problem with either option."

Okay, I'm breaking my own rule, but I thought it would be interesting to see the other side of Tup. You know, the side where sweet Tup isn't working and he needs to pull out the big guns?

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Time for Bed

Summary: You've been working for far, far too long...and Tup has a problem with it.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x Reader

Word Count: 776

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023

Divider by Saradika

You’ve been awake for…god, you don’t even know how long. Blearily, you cast your gaze to the chrono and stare at it blankly for a moment. It takes you a lot longer than it should for your eyes to focus on the numbers blinking innocently on the screen.

Oh. It’s 6 am, that’s not too bad.

Aside from the fact that you’ve been working since 5 am…yesterday.

It’s fine. Sleep is for the weak, or something. Besides, this project is important.

As in, if you don’t finish by the deadline people will be looking for your body for years to come, important.

Luckily, you’re almost done. You just have to write one more paragraph, and then you’re free to send it up to your direct supervisor for editing and everything else. 

You slam out the paragraph in less than ten minutes and lean back in your chair as the spelling and grammar check runs through all 50 pages you’ve typed in the last 25 hours. 

And the moment it pops up with no glaring mistakes, you save it, attach it to an email, and then send it to your boss, and you lean back in your chair. The chrono blinks 5:45 at you, and you sigh. There’s no point in trying to sleep now.

You might as well wait until this evening before you try to sleep. It’ll be fine. It’s not like you have any plans.

You spin your office chair around so you can stand without bumping into your desk, and yelp when you see Tup, your Tup, standing in the doorway. “Tup!” You press your hand over your heart, “I didn’t hear you!”

“I noticed.” He leans against the doorframe and you notice that he has an unimpressed brow raised in your direction. “Cyare, baby, love of my life-” Tup pushes off of the frame and walks over to you, setting his hands on your shoulders, “You’ve been working for over 24 hours. It’s time for bed.”

You smile up at him, “It’s fine, I can just wait until tonight.” You try to reassure, only for your smile to falter when he shoots you an unimpressed look. “It’s fine, really. I’m not even tired,” You add.

“Uh-huh.” Tup takes a step back and folds his arms over his broad chest, “Either you go to bed and get some rest willingly or I will drag your butt down the hall kicking and screaming.” He smiles, and you're suddenly reminded that your sweet, gentle Tup is just as much a soldier as his brothers, “You know I’ll have no problem with either option.” He finishes.

“I…” You pause, and then you hold your arms out to Tup, “Will you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?”

Tup huffs and takes your hands to pull you to your feet. And then he scoops you into his arms, “Spoiled,” He chides lightly as he turns and walks out of your office and down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“Pleasssse, Tup?” You ask, as you look up at him with the saddest eyes you can muster.

He muffles a laugh, and kisses your forehead, “Yes, my sweet, spoiled cyare. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He gently sets you on your side of the bed, and tucks the blankets around you.

“Wait!”

Tup sighs deeply, “Cyare-”

“I just need my pajamas!” You say hurriedly, able to hear the frustration in his voice. Even Tup can only be pushed so far, after all.

He gives you a pointed look, and pushes you down to your pillow, before he stands and grabs the top of his blacks from the day before, and flings them at you from across the room, “Here.”

“Thank you,” You chirp at him before you shift and squirm under the blankets to replace your work clothes with his warm shirt, and then you toss your work clothes on the floor and curl up in a ball.

And when Tup slides into bed next to you, you release a happy noise, and roll so you’re able to press yourself against his warmth, “I thought you said you weren’t tired,” He teases, his voice low and soothing as he runs his hand down your back.

“‘M not.” You reply, as your eyes flutter closed, “Just love being near Tup.”

“I love you too, cyare.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head as your breathing evens out and you slip into a deep slumber almost immediately. And then he glances at the chrono, and decides that more sleep wouldn’t hurt, and he slides down in bed to curl himself around you.

#star wars #tcw #clone trooper tup x reader #tup x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

[esta-elavaris]

Part Twelve [2,590 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - *Part Twelve* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @teawithshakespeare @dancerinthestorm

"I have a surprise for you."

Norrington looked aghast at her words, and Theo grinned, laughing and quickly continuing before he could get up and sprint back to the Interceptor. Or maybe just directly into the ocean. Whatever he continued to be the swiftest form of escape.

"You can relax, it's not for you. But you had a pretty big hand in it, so I wanted you to be the first to see it."

"The necklace?"

It could never be said that he wasn't shrewd. Or that she didn't have a way or making things painfully obvious, she supposed.

"The necklace," she confirmed, sifting through her skirts until she found the pockets sewn within.

"Wouldn't I be the third to see it, then? Behind Turner and yourself?"

"If I knew that you were going to be like this about it, you'd have been the twentieth."

"The twenty-first would've been too insulting?"

"Had to save a spot for Amelia."

"I shall keep the rest of my comments to myself, so I'm not catapulted further still down the list."

"Mm – any more snark and I'd have to put you square behind taking it to the cells in Fort Charles to show the folk there before I let you see it."

"In which case I would have to give permission – which I would only bestow if you allowed me to see the necklace, as recompense."

"I bow down to a skilled tactician," she said drily.

Of course, her deadpan humoured was dulled a bit by the smile on her face, but she couldn't help it. Who could have ever thought that the inscrutable James Norrington would ever be willing to sit and chat nonsense with her – unbegrudgingly, and with a smile on his face? It beggared belief. And she enjoyed it more than she should.

"It's not an exact replica. They're not so much twins as sisters, but I kind of like that," she explained, drawing the little cloth pouch from her skirts. "It'd be a bit to twee if we were cutting about in matching jewellery."

"Cutting about?"

"Yes, yes, she speaks like a weird little commoner, we know this."

"I was not mocking you," he said simply.

He looked tempted to add something else and she waited patiently for him to do so, but when he finally did, she had the feeling it wasn't what he originally intended to say.

"Must I beg, if I wish to see this necklace?"

"Is that an offer?"

"No," came his emphatic response.

Theo laughed, unwrapping it and then dangling it by the chain before him. The pendant was around the same size as her own, and shone just as brightly, but with small curling designs running along the edges of the shape. Will had explained the reasoning for this – something to do with imperfections in the only silver he'd been able to squirrel away for use, and how this disguised them. But they were very pretty, so she'd hardly been inclined to complain in the first place.

He looked at the necklace – truly looked at it, rather than just fixing his eyes in its general direction for a polite amount of time before he went on to rattle off some sort of canned, polite compliment. The action made Theo more nervous than she let on. Sure, she'd borrowed some of Elizabeth's jewellery here and there for social gatherings, but he'd spent his whole life surrounded by the fashions and the ways of this time. If something was up with the necklace, he'd see it immediately.

Once upon a time, she would have expected him to therefore voice it immediately, too. But now she honestly couldn't say whether she'd expect that from him or not – for he was kinder than she'd first realised. Even if he probably wouldn't thank her for pointing it out.

"It's a fine piece," he said, holding it up to the light and nodding with approval that appeared perfectly sincere. "I'm sure Miss Swann will be ecstatic."

"I hope she will be. It's just such a relief to finally be able to do something nice for her," she admitted, accepting the necklace back.

He cleared his throat, perhaps uncomfortable with the sincere tone their conversation was taking, then he hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"You must know that neither of the Swanns would hold any expectation in that regard."

"Of course I do. That just makes it worse. If they begrudged what they gave me, I'd feel less bad about it."

"Ireland must be a strange land indeed," he snorted.

Although there was something in his tone that suggested he knew exactly what she meant.

"No," she sighed, only half-joking. "Just me."

Thankfully, he chose that moment to steer them into less choppy, awkward waters.

"I'm curious. You're well-read, and you mentioned missing your books from home. What do you ordinarily read?"

Had she not been trying to rein in a very mortifying bout of emotions, she might've realised how that had the potential to be a dangerous question – given the time discrepancy.

"Whatever I can get my hands on. It depends on my mood. History…"

By that, she meant salacious autobiographies of her favourite musicians.

"…Philosophy…"

That one, at least, he could take at face value.

"…Horror," she added.

"Horror?" he frowned.

Well. It looked like that hadn't been invented yet. Great. Although she shouldn't have really been surprised, she supposed – what book invented it? He'd been pretty generous in describing her as well-read, but she wasn't an expert on literature, nor educated on it enough to know when certain genres began or how. She could guess that horror began as gothic literature and morphed a bit, and it did seem a bit early even for that. Although she wasn't sure what signs she could look for. Amelia stomping about the town in Demonia platforms and black lipstick? Annoyingly, she'd probably be able to pull it off.

Alas, she'd dug herself into this hole now – so she might as well start making it hospitable.

"Horror – stories of…of ghosts, and the supernatural, and of people who do terrible things."

"It hardly sounds like the stuff of recreational reading."

"It makes sense, once you dig into it."

"By all means, explain it to me."

From anybody else, it might've felt condescending. Hell, from him it would have been condescending only a few weeks ago. But instead, as he spoke, he watched her with open curiosity – with expectation. Not because he was waiting for her to make an absolute tit out of herself, but because he genuinely expected that what she was about to say might be interesting. From James Norrington, that was damn high praise.

"It…it provides a safe avenue to explore those feelings," she cringed at how new-age faux-intellectual that sounded, especially to someone who had actually fought in battles out at sea, and quickly continued. "For someone who's never experienced real fear, or real danger, if they get really engrossed in a story full of those things, they experience that fear. Obviously to a far, far lesser extent, but it's something. It's better than nothing. I'm not saying a book'll turn them into some grizzled war veteran-"

"Like myself?" he asked drily.

"You're not grizzled," she snorted. "Reading horror is just…microdosing danger."

"Microdosing danger?"

Was she hallucinating, or was that an amused smile on his face? One that wasn't even grudging? God, she was at risk of swooning.

"Yeah, like-"

"I can guess your meaning well enough, even if I've never heard the phrasing before."

"Look at us, bridging the language barrier. You've a promising career in diplomacy ahead of you."

"By God, I hope not. If you'd been paying attention, you would have seen that my skill lies in conflict."

"So does diplomacy, really."

"Diplomats cannot utilise cannons in their work."

"Maybe you could be the first."

He rolled his eyes and she couldn't help but laugh fondly, wrenching them back to the topic at hand. There was only so much of her nonsense that he'd willingly tolerate before he excused himself, and she enjoyed his company.

"There's something thrilling about it, too. Scaring yourself when there isn't anything real to be scared of. Monsters, evil, the like. It can be exciting."

"Spoken like one who has never encountered monsters, nor evil," he said flatly.

"You don't know what I've seen."

She meant the words to be teasing – referring to what she knew lay ahead, perhaps, or maybe just the sight of her dad's brothers-in-arms hungover on a Sunday morning. James didn't laugh, which wasn't that surprising, but nor did he roll his eyes. Instead, he looked…well, not quite stricken, but suddenly very solemn indeed, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment before he forced his lips together. Bowing his head, he cleared his throat and then looked back at her again, very much the solemn Captain Norrington.

"You are right – I do not. My apologies."

Theo blinked in surprise. She'd gotten fairly decent, although far from infallible, when it came to gauging her daft little jokes here, but Norrington's sincere and solemn response caught her off guard. Not least because he watched her keenly now. Was there something she should be saying?

"Er…don't worry about it. I was only being silly."

He continued looking at her for a few long moments, and she couldn't help but feel like whatever he'd wished for her to say, that hadn't been it.

Governor Swann was holding a dinner party that evening – for the seniormost men in Port Royal who were about to make sail. It was a tradition that the Governor himself had founded shortly after arriving in Port Royal, ensuring that the men about to leave at least got one good meal in, as well as a bit of entertaining company, before they went off to see to their duty. Ordinarily, it was something James merely endured. Yes, he often found he enjoyed the evenings more than he expected to, but that lack of expectation seldom had anything to do with the company he would find there.

He'd more than earned his reputation of being a man of duty. Whatever minor gripes he had with how they extended to whispers that he had no sense of humour, or that he could find no joy in anything but duty, he could roll his eyes and brush off such comments. Not least because of the small amount of truth in them – for on the nights before he was due to leave Port Royal, he simply had no desire to spend the last of his time making small-talk in drawing rooms. No, he would much prefer to instead spend it making sure that everything was in order, including his thoughts, before he left.

This voyage would require no extensive preparations. It was more of a patrol than a real mission. A short journey through the surrounding waters, aimed at both ensuring those waters were safe, maintaining a tangible presence for any foul eyes who may be watching with malintent, and to stop their wits from dulling during extensive time inland.

Still, James found himself disgruntled at what lay ahead…and all because of a conversation he'd had with Governor Swann himself, that morning as they walked the battlements of Fort Charles.

"Elizabeth is ecstatic at the prospect of tonight – it's her first chance to show off her gift from Miss Byrne. I don't suppose you've seen it?"

"No," he lied. "I have not. What is it?"

If he told the truth of the matter, there ran a real risk of credit being attributed to him, and not Miss Byrne. He had no risk to detract from her victory. Not when he'd seen how jubilant it made her.

"A necklace – a pretty little trinket, to be sure. It won't be featured next to the Crown Jewels any time soon, but the sentimental value behind the piece far outshines those in the eyes of my daughter."

James chuckled. "I'm sure it does."

"Truth be told, I was worried about the influence our guest may have on her, but I've discovered those worries were all for naught. Miss Byrne has certainly brightened up her days considerably. Thick as thieves, those two."

"Good. I'm glad."

Worryingly, he found he even meant that. Mostly.

"You never know, perhaps Miss Byrne will find herself a suitor during one such evening as tonight."

Stilling, James blinked and looked up at the Governor. "A suitor?"

"Come, Captain," the Governor chuckled, misunderstanding his shock. "She has her eccentricities, but she's fair. Some may even profess to find her charming, in her way. If we cannot find her father, and if he does not find us, or if he cannot find us, God help him, we must…look to the future. She could do far worse for herself than a strapping young lieutenant. Although, I grant you, it would have to be one with good humour."

There were only two lieutenants who came to mind at all, and the latter part of Governor Swann's statement firmly ruled out Gillette from the running. Although he had to admit, it would make a good show to see Gillette trying to woo a woman such as Theodora Byrne. But Groves? The notion of Groves doing so filled him with less humour. And how could it not, he reasoned? They knew nothing of her background, nor how that background may impact whether she was eligible at all. That was the source of his discomfort. Nothing more.

The memory of the conversation had James' lips thinning. Hopefully Governor Swann had less of a stomach for matchmaking than his daughter did.

Ordinarily, this turn of events would have been a great help. Elizabeth could no longer fill her mind with misguided notions regarding himself and Theodora if Miss Byrne was occupied with the attentions of Groves, that much was true. It would have been an exceedingly neat little solution. One, he was sure, he would have personally encouraged – were it not for the extraneous factors.

And as for those extraneous factors, he was certain – truly certain – that he was getting somewhere. You don't know what I've seen. When they'd first met, she never would have admitted such a thing aloud to him. This camaraderie that had grown between them, that very same camaraderie that surprised him in how little he had to feign or resort to pretence in order to achieve it, and worried him in how natural and easy it felt, was working.

Was it wrong for him to find happiness in that? More than the mere satisfaction in achieving an important aim, but the true pleasure in having gained the confidence of a woman – a person – who had shown themselves to be truly decent, whatever her secrets? For he was good at sniffing out artifice and foul intentions, and while Theodora had some of the former about her, she had none of the latter. Today, he'd almost even slipped up and admitted that he liked her strange little idioms and turn of phrase, but he held himseld back. Thankfully. For that could very well be misread, and spook her. And when she did finally confide in him, as he was growing more and more hopeful that she would, he would in turn finally be able to help her.

The notion of Groves swooping in and courting her was just that. A mere notion. A passing possibility planted in his mind by an errant comment of Governor Swann's – a fleeting comment he probably now had no recollection of making, for it meant so little. It was not set in stone, and it only bothered James personally because he might undo the progress he was making here. That was all.

Yes. That was all.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

[meet-me-in-the-pouringrain]

The Phoenix and The Rocket

Final Chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a trauma ‘dumping’ site. She never expected that her Dump would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving

This is it y’all thank you for engaging and indulging me ❤️ and of course, thank you to @lonelychicagos for the prompt in the first place.

Read the final chapter below the cut :)

JJ instantly smirks the second Emily walks through the doors. Tara snickers behind her coffee cup.

"Yay" JJ cheers, shaking her fists. "You got laid!"

Emily blanks. "I-What." She stammers. She came in fully prepared to let them all have it for sending her on a needless errand but JJ catches her extremely off guard.

"So who's the guy?" Tara nudges her. "Or girl." She adds as an afterthought.

Dave looks smug as he walks up before Prentiss could reply. Luke, Matt and Spencer are with him, the latter already having the case file, and they're looking at their boss with a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. Emily glances over the faces of the team, wondering how exactly she's gonna tell them that not only has she found their old boss but also fucked him two hours ago, and rolls her eyes.

"Allora come sta?" (So, How is he?) Dave asks, switching to Italian. His demeanour is all smug and giddy.

Emily narrows her eyes while the rest of them look between them like they're watching a tennis match. "Sai?" (You Know?)

"Sí" Dave puts a hand on her shoulder. "Chi pensi che gli abbia dato il tuo numero?" (Who do you think gave him your number?)

Emily tries to be angry but her face gives her away when she smiles and bows her head. "Thank you" She says in return. The team is all waiting eagerly for the gossip and left severely disappointed when she orders them to the conference room.

Aaron fairs no better from the questions when he walks into his new house and finds his son standing at the door. Jack exclaims at the sight of him, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Where have you been?" Jack huffs.

Aaron smirks in amusement. "Uh, I'm the dad here." He tells him, walking off into the house. "Non of your business" He calls over his shoulder before whistling a tune to himself.

Jack watches him go with a face on him, confused. Then realisation settles in.

"Oh gross" He yells, running off. "Dad you could've just said you were with Emily. God." He hollers, running away.

His father laughs at his disgust, picking an apple out of the fruit bowl and settles down, casting his mind to what Emily might be doing right now.

"Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?" Penelope repeats incessantly through the laptop as the Jet zooms in the air. Emily just glares at the Laptop without saying a word. "Rossi, who is it?" Penelope changes her tune, turning to the man.

Dave smirks at Emily, enough to set her on edge, and she shakes her head minutely at him. Thankfully, he listens for once. "Sorry Garcia, I am not at liberty to say."

The girls groan while the boys sigh in relief. It's one thing hearing about the sex lives of the age female team members but your boss too? No thank you.

After the case, they go out for coffee and they talk. Emily tells him everything he's missed with the team, including how Derek's expecting another kid with Savannah and how Spencer got arrested and she grills him on how the hell he would have navigated that. Aaron tells her everything about Jack and their life in Colorado, wincing a little when some of the harder bits came up.

It was essentially the culmination of everything they spoke about online, sans Emily's disguised stories and white lies and Aaron's evasiveness about how the hell he got in those situations.

They're on the same page when one of them mentions that they're done dancing around, that they want this. They move fast, as much as they can when one of them is jetting off over the country every other week, and solidly dating. She comes to his home three weeks into the arrangement and Jack bounces around like a little kid again, calling her 'Miss Emily' and welcomes her enthusiastically. Aaron chooses wisely not to tell Emily that Jack spent 45 minutes trying to look presentable for her.

He hugs her with both, fully functional, arms tightly. "Thank you" He whispers in her ear, making her hug the boy now taller than her tighter. "For making him Aaron again." Jack says, pulling away. Emily couldn't reply save for a tight smile. Aaron snakes up next to them and steals her away from his son.

The team all notice the skip in her step, the lighter paperwork and the glow in her eyes. They speculate who it is, with a betting pool of government agents names appearing, and press Rossi for information on the regular. Spencer overhears a phone call one night on the way back to the hotel room two months in as Emily stands at the vending machine and accidentally eavesdrops.

He grows interested - he has money on a agent from Counter-Terrorism that Emily has had tension with for years - and stays behind the doorway.

"No" Emily shakes her head, fiddling with coins in her hands. "Don't be ridiculous. No-That was Derek's fault not mine." She protests. "He's the one who had the prank war with Spence, remember?"

Spencer's interest piques here and he moves closer. So it must be someone who was here 7 years ago during him and Morgan's prank war. That cuts out his guess but leaves Tara's, Penelope's and Luke's in.

How interesting.

Emily speaks again and he jumps. "Give Jack a kiss for me" Emily says lowly into the phone. Spencer's eyes go wide. "Yes, I know he's 16, Whats your point?" She laughs, crouching for her coca-cola. "I love you too" She says fondly. "I'll call you after the case to debrief, Hotch" She says his name mockingly but it's full of adoration. Spencer's jaw is slack and his eyes are wide as she turns to spot him.

Emily jumps about a foot in the air, spilling coke and dropping her phone. "Spencer!" She exclaims. Her eyes are equally as wide. "How long-?"

"Y-you found Hotch?" Spencer squeaks out, a spark of anger in his chest.

She sighs. "Yes- Look. Don't tell the others." She begs. "He wanted me to keep it a secret, wanted us to be together before he reveals himself to the rest of you."

"You're together?" He asks, the same slow smile falling into his face that occurs whenever there's great news. Emily sighs again and bites her lip, nodding.

"It's still new" She confesses. "No one knows. Only Dave, please"

"I won't." Spencer cuts her off, shaking his head. "I'm happy for you, Emily" He says quietly. She smiles, relived. "Can he come home soon?" He asks.

Now she laughs. "Oh buddy" She pats him on the back. "He's closer than you think." She says coyly. "Besides, you're stuck with me now."

Spencer mock groans so she punches his arm. They hug it out with another promise not to tell before disappearing into their rooms for the night.

It only takes about another month for the team to find out anyway.

That's because when they land from yet another case, Penelope is standing at the elevators with a shell shocked look on her face, staring right at Emily. JJ begins the questioning but Penelope just points at Emily and then to her office and then back at Emily. They all walk into the bullpen, staring up at the office in confusion.

Emily's face breaks into a smile when the figure of a man can be seen at her desk. Spencer sees him next and gasps excitedly while Dave just laughs. JJ clicks onto it first and moves her gaze to Emily. Matt didn't work under Hotch, joining after Emily was made Unit Chief, but knew off him and he nudged Tara, who was the next to realise what's happened and was staring at her friend. Luke leant into Garcia to ask what was going on, only to earn a sharp rebuttal and a weak insult about how she'll never gossip with him back.

Aaron looks up out of the window to spot the team, and he smiled broadly. He left his old office quickly, meeting them halfway.

"Superman returns from his fortress of solitude!" Dave quips as he reaches them.

"Hi" Aaron smiles, looking straight at Emily.

Before anyone can react, he's pulling her to him and kissing her in front of everyone.

She got hurt on this case, a UNSUB knocked her unconscious and nicked her neck with a knife. She hadn't needed stitches or anything, it was not even a lot of blood. But the second Dave told him the update, figuring he needed to know, Aaron was losing his mind. When Emily finally texted him that they had landed, he practically flew out of the door and to his old workspace on autopilot.

It was only when the old security guard greeted him by name that Aaron had realised what he had done so he gingerly made his way up and hid away from the stares of his old subordinates in his old office.

When they pull apart, she's blushing and biting her lip. He scans their faces in amusement : Dave's smug and proud, Spencer is surprised, JJ and Tara look delighted and surprised too, Luke is grinning and Matt is laughing.

Penelope looks two milliseconds away from losing her ever loving shit.

"So, does this mean you're back?" JJ begins, slyly. She smirks at Emily, who turns her head to hide in his neck.

Aaron chuckles, pulling away from her to officially greet everyone. "To the FBI? No" He confirms. "To Virginia? Yes." He pulls Spencer into a hug, smiling when it goes on longer than expected, kisses JJ and Penelope on the cheek and nods when JJ asks is Jack's home too. He greets the others amicably, not having a closer relationship with them and shakes Matt's hand politely.

"So how did-" Penelope bounces, swirling her finger between the two of them. "What happen- I always knew you two had the hots for each other" She finishes on, overjoyed.

Emily ducked her head. "Long story." She said simply, making her partner chuckle. "We're all going out for drinks-" She begins as his arm returns to her waist.

"YES. YES. THIS IS HAPPENING. LETS GO" Penelope finally loses it, making them all break. She whips out her phone. "I'm calling Morgan, He's coming too." She announces, darting off to phone the man.

"How was the case?" Aaron asked as Emily directs them to her office. The team all move to leave, all knowing that not a lot of work will be done. She shuts the door behind her, as they all exit to the bar, and closes the blinds, flipping off Tara's cheeky grin at the last second. Their exit leaves the BAU empty, save for those two.

He sits in front of the desk, feeling weird, as she leans against it.

Emily sucks in a breath. "Oh, I think my PenPal might be getting told all about that later" She shrugs but smirks when he chuckles.

"I'm sure Rocket is looking forward to it, Phoenix" He retorts back.

Emily hums in response and leans down for another kiss. "Now I'm sure someone said something about me being bent over this desk." She involuntarily squeals as he moves quicker than she's ever seen him.

It takes about 2 more months before she's fully moved in with him and Jack, who's very glad she's back around and that she makes his dad happy. It happens one morning as he wakes up to find her and Jack sitting in their pyjamas in the living room, playing on the gaming system.  He quickly realised that he wanted every morning like this, with her here. And so he asks her to move in straight away.

"Aaron, Honey" Emily giggles, pausing the game. "All my clothes are here and Sergio's stuff is in the corner" She points. Jack snickers at him, shaking his head. "I've already moved in basically." She tells him softly, pecking his lips. He's left dumbfounded and wondering how two years of retirement left him that rusty.

It takes another 3, almost a year to the day Phoenix first messaged Rocket, before they're married.

He proposes on her birthday in October and they're married in Dave's backyard the week before Christmas. They've wasted enough time and refuse to let more slip by. The team is all there, including Derek.  Penelope wrangles Sergio in a bow tie and clings onto him so he doesn't attack Aaron during the wedding. Dave is the officiant, Jack's the best man and JJ's the maid of honour, Derek's a groomsmen with Tara being the other bridesmaid. They employ Jess' daughter Courtney as the flower girl and Hank as the ring bearer with Michael and Henry taking their roles as security very seriously. Spencer reads out a speech he's prepared and Luke and Matt act as waiters for the rest of them due to vague threats from Penelope. The wind perks up just as they're about to kiss for the first time as Husband and Wife, making Emily laugh and blow a raspberry to the sky.

It's small and messy but it's them and there's nothing they would trade it for.

At the end of the night, Penelope unveils one last surprise that has Emily in tears.

A painting of a Phoenix rising from the ashes below her, with a rocket in the distance heading towards her.  It's silly and doesn't make sense but hey, if that wasn't their story.

Aaron laughs and states he should have known Penelope would dig to find out while Emily cries. They hang it in their bedroom without a second thought and spend an hour pointing out the little details.

When the novelty of the picture is over, Emily collapses in his arms leaning her back against his torso with a loud, happy sigh. "God" She breathes, staring at the painting. "Who would've though we'd end up here? All thanks to a stupid Trauma Dump website."

Aaron hums, wrapping his arms around her. "Yeah" He agrees absentmindedly. "I love you, Phoenix." He mumbles in her ear.

Emily smiles and cranes her neck to stare up at him. "I love you, Rocket." She replies, smiling broadly.

He leans down and kisses her softly, swallowing anything else she had to say. Outside, The wind brushes gently before ceasing at all and downstairs, Sergio pulls Emily's laptop down by its charging cable. Jack scolds him and scoops him up to leave the house entirely. Emily and Aaron, Phoenix and Rocket, whatever you want to call them are entirely alone but together.

All thanks to some meddling from a force of nature, a 16yr old boy, a menacing cat and a nosy work colleague who's more of a father.

And of course, a stupid website.

~~

tag list : @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #the phoenix and the rocket #criminal minds fanfiction #agent hotchner #hotch #agent prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction

[ystk-archive]

[Translation] L.D.K. Lounge Designers Killer interview (BARFOUT! magazine vol. 122, Oct. 2005)

(Yes, there's really a long-running arts and culture magazine in Japan called Barfout. Click here to view full-page scans of the feature, and feel free to contact me with any questions/comments.)

What surprising developments took place on capsule's new album!?

I'm crazy about capsule's newest album, L.D.K. Lounge Designers Killer. It includes "Flying City Plan" [Soratobu Toshikeikaku] — featured in a collaborative music video created by Ghibli subsidiary Studio Kajino and directed by Momose Yoshiyuki — for a total of ten songs (perhaps I should mention that video is on the same level as many sci-fi films!). capsule is a creative unit made up of Nakata Yasutaka (producer) and Koshijima Toshiko (vocalist). The two have been entertaining listeners with their extremely poppy releases that'll take you on a virtual joyride through a world of music inspired by interior design and mass-produced goods. That said, I was taken aback by the song "Glider"! Even with their cool, plastic charm, capsule launched a dramatic pop track with a melody that tugs at the heartstrings the minute it begins. If I had to compare it to works by other artists, it's got a similar feeling to Quruli's "Wandervogel" and Supercar's "YUMEGIWA LAST BOY." Geez, I've really been wearing this song out! (At this point, "Glider" is going at #1 on my top ten favorites of 2005!) Including a club-oriented track with an enjoyable guitar sound, capsule's new album is filled to the brim with groundbreaking songs that overflow with human emotion. It'll definitely add a certain je ne sais quoi to your own space!!!

Original interview text by Fukushima Ryutaro, translation by ystk-archive

"From outerspace to the ocean, I wanted it to have a sense of vastness" (Nakata)

barf: How in the world did you arrive at something like L.D.K. Lounge Designers Killer? Nakata: All the tracks on this album definitely make me go "hey, I can make good songs too!" (laughs). barf: The jacket photo is a picture of grass. Nakata: It's fake. The clothes we wear in the "Glider" video are also made out of that. I'm not much of a nature enthusiast, but in Japan we sure do have a lot of state-manufactured parks, don't we? The album cover's aura is sort of like that, how it's natural but somehow artificial at the same time. barf: The first track, "Flying City Plan," was used as the basis of a short film, following the examples set by "Portable Airport" [Portable Kuukou] and "space station No.9." They're even screening it before the movie Touch. Nakata: The first short "Portable Airport" showcases a fantasy town in capsule's type of aesthetic. After that was the resort concept for "space station No.9." So for this third one, we aimed for it to be more visually spacious and panoramic. From outerspace to the ocean, I wanted it to have a sense of vastness, so that's why I went with "Flying City Plan" for the music. barf: It has a majestic feel. Nakata: I tried to give it an easygoing sort of speed. When you're flying in an airplane, you can't feel the wind, but you know it's going by extremely fast outside. So the music follows along those lines, with a relaxed pace, kind of giving off an executive's suite type of vibe. And they retired the Concorde planes, so... (laughs) barf: Did you have any thoughts on the video, Koshijima-san? Koshijima: It's dramatic. She's a damsel in distress (laughs). barf: The second track "Teleportation" sounds so much like capsule's usual while simultaneously feeling quite new. Nakata: That's because, in a rare move, I played the guitar. I've used it before but only for riffs and whatnot, this time I played it more messily. barf: Speaking of guitars, the third track "Lounge Designers Killer" is rather rock-influenced. Nakata: To be totally honest, I was given a guitar. So I was just thinking like, "What if I use guitar sounds for this album?" There wasn't a deep reason behind it (laughs). barf: What kind of guitar did you get? Nakata: The one I used in the music video.¹ After we finished the shoot for "Glider," I added guitars to the song (laughs). Originally I thought it'd be interesting that the video was going to show a guitar being played with no guitars in the music, but since we went through the trouble of getting it, I threw some in the song after the fact. barf: That would've been a bizarre visual element (laughs). I get the sense that capsule is strongly influenced by cool instruments. Nakata: I really like changes of scenery and instruments. With bands, new ideas are sparked by the members interacting with each other, right? I pull my inspirations from instruments and checking out stores I haven't been to before.

"capsule does things without focusing on whether or not it's 'too late' to do them." (Nakata)

barf: "Glider" really comes to life as the seventh track following the science fiction-esque "Antenna." Nakata: I tried to make the transition sound unnatural. There used to be a sense of flow even though songs weren't actually connected to each other, but nowadays there's a high possibility that people will import albums into a computer and listen to everything out of order anyway. I wanted to put something there that would make the listener go "huh?" when the song changed over. "Antenna" starts and ends abruptly: the intro begins and cuts off halfway through, giving the impression that it's broken; it's the same type of weird feeling you get when the TV channel suddenly changes. So I put that in there to make the connection between the songs worse, not better (laughs). barf: "Glider" stands out strongly. Koshijima-san, how was it singing this song? Koshijima: Honestly, my voice was in really bad shape during recording and it was at its worst when we got around to "Glider" — it wouldn't come out at all. But when I got to listen to the song in the studio, I was struck by how long it's been since I heard something so good, and because of that my voice somehow managed to power through (laughs). barf: The title of "Progress and Harmony for Mankind" [Jinrui no Shinpo to Chouwa] feels a bit out of place, doesn't it (laughs). Nakata: It's from the 1970 Osaka Expo. barf: Really!! I didn't make the connection. Nakata: It's so like us to not use the theme from this year's Expo (laughs).² The Osaka Expo happened during a time when people really valued science. They thought like "with science, anything is possible!" Along with the ecological issues, I think the idea of creating another earth is fascinating (laughs). barf: With the kind of rhythm it has, the song's got a cool spacy feel to it. Nakata: That track is close to the type of music that pushed me into doing music. I felt like how I did in junior high, making songs like this when I started recording at home. Koshijima: You definitely did material like this when we first met. It was pretty heavy (laughs). Nakata: That's why when I listen to recent releases, I feel like I've gone back in time. These days, a lot of the songs I hear that people say are "good" are nostalgic. Bands have started making house and electro-ish music with '80s sounds and I wind up thinking, "Can they really do that?" barf: It has gotten like that. Nakata: capsule does things without focusing on whether or not it's "too late" to do them. It's not that I'm bitter about it though; that's just what happens when you do what you enjoy. barf: But if that's how you naturally go about about things, then it's okay. Nakata: It's not a recent phenomenon, but I do think people who create things feel confined. If they do this genre, then they have to use certain sounds — they have so-called rules like that. I make music thinking it'd be nice to ignore those rules.

¹ Nakata owns a Yamaha RGX A2 which he "played" in the Glider music video. I think. I was told that it was actually a different guitar but I guess not! ² 2005 was the Aichi Expo with the theme of "Nature's Wisdom." He's saying this in reference to his disinterest in nature.

#koshijima toshiko #nakata yasutaka #capsule #L.D.K. Lounge Designers Killer #Glider #BARFOUT! #2005 #studio ghibli #studio kajino #translations #magazines #interviews

[baeklination]

Generally Speaking

Date: 221120

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, sucking, fucking, anal, toy, gen.expl.lang.

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 2,6k

NOTE: I was trying for all out porn again, but it didn't work out (I think it's because I make 'em longer, makes me want to add context). I'll try to keep it short, like Handyman next time 'cus it's the only one that stayed porn. Anyhow! So it's more my usual style smut, but I hope it will suffice.

Masterlist

¤¤

It's not your first rodeo - counselors, judges, probation officers - they all start with the same fake flipping through your paperwork, pretending to "get up to speed" when really all they're trying to do is intimidate you. This General Baekhyun is no different; not even caring to look up when you enter his office, he casually turns a page, snorting quietly. It doesn't matter what branch of power they're from or if they have three stripes on their jacket, like this one; if someone is fucking with you, you can fuck right back, so you lean deep in the chair set in front of his desk, blowing a bubble with your gum until it bursts with a loud smack. 

Baekhyun leisurely puts the folder on the desk, arrogantly knitting his brows when he sees your posture. 

"I understand it's your first time in my office."

"Yep."

"Refusing an order? It's what the write-up says."

You laugh out loud, demonstratively throwing your head back to make a point of how ridiculous you find the whole thing.

"I went ten K over the speed limit and for that I have to stand knee-deep in mud, digging trenches for god-knows-what?"

"That's what community service is. I don't care much about why they sent you, only that you act according to the rules while you are here. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Understand? You don't exactly use a vocabulary that screams Princeton. Do you understand what I'm-"

His sudden standing up cuts your sentence short; as he comes around the desk his jaw juts out for an instant, signaling that you're clearly trying his patience, but he's trying to hide it. You follow his movement, blowing another bubble. Only just does the bubble burst before he holds his hand out for you to spit it out. When you do, he hauls up a handkerchief, puts it there, then shoves it back in his pocket. Half leaning against the desk, not a meter from you, the bulge is obvious - not even military-grade starched trousers stand like that - and he's not trying to hide it. In fact he looks down at you without saying a word, but nonetheless saying a lot.

It's barely an arm's reach until your palm rests on top of it, stroking up and down, slightly parting your lips as you look up at him. Feeling him in your hand under the layers of clothing with your proposal accepted heats you up.

"Are you trying to get off the hook?", he asks nonchalantly, but breathing shorter.

"No. I'm trying to get your cock in my mouth."

Running his thumb across your bottom lip, pushing it into your mouth, he breaks into a sly smile, then proceeds to undo both button and zipper of his trousers. 

"And my staff sergeant said you couldn't play nice…"

You're hardly surprised when he shoves his clothes down and reveals that his cock is hard. Holding it by the root, he steers it down in front of you, waiting.  

The taut skin with its pinkish hue looks too luscious to resist so you lean forward, placing a hand on his hip and open wide. He's hard with a touch of bounce against your lips as you slowly suck backwards. You let out a moan of indulgence the second time you drag your mouth along his length; an act that makes his jaw twitch and eyes darken from arousal. 

"Uhmm…I can tell you're a bad girl the way you suck cock…"

His words earn him getting deeper; going all the way back to the curve of your throat, which coaxes out a husky, lewd, moan from him. The knuckles gripping the desk go white and he continues to compliment you through shaky breaths and grunts when you suck harder and a little faster. 

"Ahh…….uh, you're gonna make me come……fuck, you're good……"

Not ready for the trip to end, you swallow him a few times more, but stop when his chest goes tense. You stand up, not a hair's width away.

"I'm not gonna make you come."

Not taking his eyes off you, he undoes your trousers with not so much gentleness as avarice; simply flipping the button open and yanking down the zipper gives him what he wants. Pushing his hand down your panties he follows the natural line of your body until he reaches your entrance and without delay presses two fingers past, bathing them in your juice. Rolling them back-and-forth, grabbing your neck, he puts his mouth to yours, exhaling hotly when he whispers:

"Oh, I think you are… I think this tight, little pussy's gonna make me come…"

Moving his hand up, massaging your clit, he induces a fantastic pleasure; circling, circling, as he slides his tongue across yours.

Having pushed papers and  phone out of the way he lifts you up on the desk and hungrily pulls your trousers off.

Pushing one of your folds aside, biting his lip, he strokes the head of his cock around your entrance. 

"Mm, you look as good as you feel…" 

After being teased until you feel your muscles clenching it's a release to finally feel him against your hole, then squeezing his length completely into you, helped by the abundance of slip inside. When he's firmly lodged he lifts your legs to his shoulders and pulls you back with a firm grip on your thighs. And thrusts.

You gasp and grab the edge of the desk to keep from moving up - he pulls out then thrusts again. Like the piston of a steam engine he keeps his beat steady, each time making a wet clapping sound. Your position makes the fit even tighter, makes you hug him closer, seemingly unwilling to let him go when he slides back. With each drive he grunts and keeps a careful watch on your face, relishing in the way you receive his reprimand - with both pleasure and jolt. Feeling his thickness gliding in and out is delicious, but just outside the speed to cause electric ripples.

"Faster…", you tell him.

Half expecting he'll balk at being ordered by a civilian, it's thrilling that he immediately does what you ask - with an approving smile, even. Securing his grip on your thighs he repeatedly hammers his cock in, slapping the back of your legs with his hips as he does.

"Mmm, you wanna be fucked like this..?" Breathing through his mouth he shuts his eyes, whines and moans beautifully.

Being taller than the desk, his posture is slightly awkward, slightly animalistic; the way his knees are bent while he moves. He couldn't care less the way he groans with satisfaction from being inside you.

"I knew you'd make me………Hh……hh…I'm gonna come in your mouth…", he pants, fighting to keep his rhythm. "A-hh…now, come here."

When he swings your legs down you sit up and his hand holds the back of your neck. Pumping his glossy cock only inches from your face, he breathes choppily until he groans and spurts out his cum onto your nose and cheek. 

Exhaling huskily, he slows down and smears the running semen across your lips, teasing until he's satisfied, jerking when you cover the head with your mouth. Then he tips your face up by the chin, checking to see if you're offended by his intentional miss, but understanding you're not he nods, pulls his pants up and neatly wipes your face with his handkerchief. Bending to your ear, lightly brushing your neck, he whispers:

"I'll tell the sergeant we had a talk and see eye-to-eye. Okay?"

"Completely."

°

Bed count is the worst. Not the counting itself, but the mandatory stand-in-front-of-your-bunk-so-I-can-call-you-out done by the Petty Officer in charge each night.

"...As usual Mrs. Hill has top marks", he says in an approving voice "...and as usual…two write-ups, Miss..?"

"Two? No fu- no. I got one this morning, but it was sorted. Ask the Sergeant..!", you protest, in honest surprise since you haven't done anything out of line.

"I don't make the notes, just read 'em", he says with a raise of his shoulders. "In fact, you're going to the General before light's out. Now, that is."

"And then I'll get another write-up for being late to bed, I don't think so."

Your words are just for show, because oh, how you do think so, once realizing what this is regarding. 

The General's - Baekhyun's - sleeping quarters are entirely different from his office. Not exactly homely, but definitely less rigid and definitely more private being some ways away from the official buildings. 

"You didn't have to make me look bad, could've said you were giving me the medal of honour."

"Is that what you call it?", Baekhyun asks cockily while kicking off his trousers to the side. 

"Sure… Then what's my name..?"

He pulls you against himself, puts the other hand firmly between your legs.

"Mine."

"Yours..?"

"M-hm." Twirling your t-shirt around his finger, he pulls at it. "So take these off and get on all fours."

The arrogant way in which he tips his head in the direction of his bed makes you want to smack him across the face - but it's also what makes him attractive. 

The mattress sinks down under your knees when he gets up behind you. 

"Don't be too eager", he muses, patting your pussy when you arch.

"Don't pretend you're not-ah!"

The stinging slap on your clit shows there are some orders he won't take. It's with the utmost self-control you keep from cussing when you turn around, and the way he smirks he knows it too. You don't care to demand an apology - his cock squeezing past your entrance is all you need. The tingling sensation as he gets deeper with each push is heightened by his demeanour; letting his mouth hang open he gets more turned on by each sound you make while he stretches you out.

He's taking his time, enjoying the snug massage from shaft to the ridge of the head, while patiently building up to an orgasm. This time you don't mind it, instead close your eyes and hold the blanket underneath tighter as you feel every part of the fill - stroke, stretch, deep push.

"Mmm, this pussy knows how to get a man going…", he whispers salaciously. 

The faint reflection in the window shows him running his hand through his hair, watching his cock disappear as he goes in and out, softly bumping against your cheeks. 

He pauses and moans at length as he runs his hands down your waist to your ass then slides out. Before you can ask, he tells.

"Since you got a double write-up…", he says, brushing his cock against your anal, then slowly, slowly presses inside, groaning when your muscle closes around him after the head. "U-hh…shhi…keep taking me…..ah, that's it…"

Through nasty words of encouragement Baekhyun gets his entire length inside and begins fully thrusting, steadily increasing his speed until he has to keep his whines in check and hold you in place.

"Hwo….." His nails drag over your skin in anticipation, then slide around your pelvis - an even tighter grip for his tighter thrusting. "A-hh………mh!"

His harsher breaths and increasingly severe smacks are a play-by-play of his approaching orgasm and when it hits; pressing his balls against your skin while he tightly rolls against your hole, pushing his cock deep in and his cum out, groaning in desperate satisfaction. 

Making sure to release every bit of built up tension he thrusts deep, growling each time. 

Relaxed, he caresses your side and after one final sigh moves back and slips out. His semen immediately follows, running towards your pussy - a picture greatly appreciated by him judging by the humming from behind.

°

*Click*

The sound of the bolt being released grabs your attention. It's impossible to make anything out - the pitch-black room leads to an equally dark corridor, but you still look in the direction of the sound, noticing it's moving closer. Certain everyone went to bed, you listen with a grin, thinking someone's been sneaking off, probably for a late night cigarette. 

It's not until you feel the presence of someone next to the bed you get your guard up, but then:

"I'm back."

The General's whispering voice. When he said he was going off camp for two days it didn't seem that long, but your body soon thought it was. "Did you miss me?"

You readily push the covers to the side:

"Not much. Let's go."

"No."

"You didn't just come over to say hi..?"

"No." He reaches out with his hand to feel where you are, patting along your body. "Lie down."

You feel him putting something between your legs - then turning it on. Even through the two layers of fabric the vibration gets you going. 

"Be quiet now", he whispers, excited and turned on, when he pulls your pants down. 

You don't care about anyone waking up. In fact, the risk of anyone doing so; waking up to hear the unmistakable sounds of Baekhyun pleasing you, is a thrill. So when he slides your panties to the side you open your legs wide, giving him room to play. 

You hear him drop saliva on it, then feel it between your legs again and after finding your entrance he dips it in. It doesn't take long for your own fluid to coat it and let him slide in and out with ease. You automatically move your hips, eager to be filled by the buzzing toy.

"You like that..?", he teases quietly when you touch the side of his face.

He nibbles at your thumb then comes up to your ear.

"Come for me."

When his fingers find the hem of your shirt he pulls it up - finding your breast he circles his thumb over it, making it go hard in an instant. When he feels that it does you feel the warm inside of his mouth round it, softly kissing, sliding his lips off with a faint smack. He exhales hotly, points his tongue and flicks it back and forth, all the while moving the slick toy in and out.

There's nothing to do but fall into it; breathing quietly through your mouth you stroke his neck, feeling the short hair on your fingertips. Without notice he increases the vibration - moaning onto your wet nipple as he does - and pumps faster. Pressing it firmly against your sweet spot each time, he releases flurries of flares and steadily pulls your climax closer to the surface. 

"O-hh…"

"That's it…", he mumbles, his lips brushing against you as he talks "...come for me…"

"O-hh…..a-hh…"

Your legs, stomach, ass grow tighter. Right on the edge, he presses in deep - until the buzzing inside pushes your orgasm through.

Your fingers clutch your sheets, his neck. Holding your breath you shake, spasm, around the wet toy while Baekhyun moans with your nipple inside his mouth, pumping as fast as he can.

When he feels your body relax he turns it off, but continues to let it slowly glide and reaches up to kiss you.

"Mm….you're such a bad girl…"

He sighs quietly, then takes it out.

"Come see me tomorrow. I have to do this with lights on. Have to see you shake like that…"

"You know I don't decide where I go. You'll have to make a fake write-up."

"Hm. How about the Petty Officer finding this little thing under your pillow..?", he muses, running the dildo across your stomach. "That'll do the trick."

"I'm sure it would. Especially when I tell him who it's from."

"Oh, I would really have to punish you for such lies", he whispers, brings his hand down and slides his fingers over your clit…

●

#baekhyun #baekhyun smut #BBH-NET

[longsightmyth]

Honestly one of the biggest problems here is that everyone has the same bland, stilted dialogue, and it's all designed to hit every beat of every tortured romance ever without giving us the tortured romance. There did not used to be anything getting in the way of Kelsey and Ren banging outside of my own deep conviction that he was gross, but the characters don't share that view.

So when all the characters speak exactly the same way, it makes them all blend together. When they all speak like wikipedia pages or like a ten year old wrote a conversation they think adults would have, it just adds to the bland and emotionless effect.

Observe.

“Hmm, maybe you have PTSD.”

“What’s that?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s a condition you get when you’ve been exposed to terrible trauma and high stress levels. Soldiers in combat usually have it. Remember when you told Kishan that when you heard my name, all you could picture was Lokesh torturing you, questioning you?”

“Right. There’s still some of that, I guess. But now that I know you better I don’t associate you with him as much anymore. I can distance that from you now. It wasn’t because of you that it happened.”

“Part of your symptoms with me might still be related to that. Maybe you need a therapist.”

Ren chuckled, “Kelsey, first of all, a therapist would put me in an asylum for claiming I was a tiger. Second, I’m no stranger to bloody battles or pain. It wasn’t the first time Lokesh has tortured me. It was definitely an experience I wouldn’t want to go through again, but I know that you are not to blame.”

This is by no means the Wikipediaest of sections, but bear with me.

(Also the Tiger question could be resolved by simply turning into a tiger, and even if the therapist did think you were hallucinating or having delusions and good therapist would still try to help you with your ptsd)

(How does Ren know about asylums but not shellshock/ptsd)

(Undergoing similar traumas does not mean you can't have ptsd from one or both)

ANYWAY BEAR WITH ME.

"Maybe you have PTSD," I said, almost to myself.

"PTSD?" Ren asked, sounding out the letters clearly and individually rather than running them all together.

I winced. "Post-traumatic stress disorder. It's a thing a lot of soldiers get, from combat and all the other trauma."

Since I didn't have a whole lot of expert knowledge on the specifics of PTSD, I added quickly, "You told Kishan that when you heard my name, all you could think about was Lokesh torturing you. That's a thing, I think? A flashback."

"Oh, shellshock." Off my look he pointed out, "I was alive during the Great War, Kelsey."

"Right."

"Anyway, that doesn't happen anymore," Ren assured me a little too quickly, and when I frowned at him clarified, "Not often. I know it wasn't your fault. I can tell myself that and it works sometimes."

"I think it's pretty clear you're going to deal with that for a long time," I said, trying not to sound as hurt as I was. "You probably need a therapist."

Ren cracked a laugh. "I'm sure a therapist would believe me about the curse. I'll recover. This isn't the first time I've fought for my life, or even the first time I've been tortured."

I didn't think how many times somebody was tortured mattered much in the grand scheme, but I also didn't think I was going to convince an ancient Indian prince who's been living as a tiger for more than a hundred years to go to therapy in one night.

Even in a linear conversation there's going to be give and take outside of specific circumstances. In a first person narration, you get to add an internal monologue to circle in and around for more fun hijinks. Since this specific conversation is a slow one happening without particular urgency, breaking up the dialogue can convey a thoughtful or slow discussion. Giving the characters specific knowledge or different knowledge or the same kind of knowledge under different terms because the characters have different backgrounds informs the characters and makes them distinguishable from the others.

Anyway. This isn't the only way to rework this bit, but it's A way.

#myth rags on tigers curse #myth reads tigers voyage

[bubblessunshinehoney]

A request where Steve Rogers danced with his girlfriend under the rain, please!!!!

Anonnnie! I love this idea, so here's my little drabble about it! Hope you enjoy it!!

TO ALL: my request are open, my masterlist are published so you can based on my post for the characters, i'm writing for

698 words

The notebook

TW: non, just fluff!

don't be shy, reblog, comment, like!

Enjoy, Cloudy

not beta read, english is not my first language. all mistakes are my own

He was at your place, like every two weekends, but this time you found his notebook, not the one you thought it was. This one was called Romantic things to do with the one I love.

When steve saw you with it in your hands, he tried to catch it and hide it, but you were quick enough to get away from him and he sat back on your tiny couch. It was always funny to see your giant boyfriend on your tiny couch in your little two bedrooms appartement.

And how you loved to see him bright red like this. “what is it mister ?”

“nothing”, he mumbles, fiddling with his hands. You smile and open the notebook, finding a long list of things and…a lot cross already with the specific date beside it. All of your dates…

Eat pasta like in the Disney movie 12 march

You remembered that night, it was a fun moment, where he made pasta and told you the idea. He was shy and eager. He couldn’t stay in place when you said yes. He was adorkable.

Stargazing 17 august

Oh yes, that night was magical. He surprised you to a weekend in one of Tony’s cottage, lost in a forest and then he drove you up a hill and he prepared a late night picnic and hold you tight all evening when you looked at the stars. It was also the first time you had sex outdoors, and it was truly…magical.

You smiled at that and looked up at him. “You’re adorable Steve”.

Breakfast in bed 9nov8march23april….

Yeah, breakfast in bed became a tradition…a Sunday tradition and it was always Steve who prepared it. Everytime, he did something different, having bought a book of hundreds of pages of breakfast and brunch recipes.

Slow dancing with my love 12817391dine

Like with the breakfast the date and month were almost unreadable by now. He loved to slow dance, he did it every chance he got. Early in the morning, late at night, in the middle of the street. He had no shame to sway with you with or without music. And you loved to have a free and happy Steve like this.

The next one made you smile. Dancing in the rain. You looked outside and it was raining heavy since you woke up this morning.

“Should we trace another line, my love?” you ask while straddling his lap, his hands coming naturally on your hips.

“Yeah? You would like to do that with me?” he asks back, smiling sheepishly and blushing.

You nod and lean in to kiss him tenderly. “And I want to read all your romantic ideas and add some of mine too”. He smiles widely and nods eagerly.

“I would love that.” He gets up with you in his arms and walks in the little garden you have. The first rain drop touch you and you start to giggle. Steve is smiling so bright that you wonder if he didn’t catch the sun to have it for himself.

He lowers you and twirls you before swaying with you, humming a song. You look up at him and the rain already made his entire hair wet, the raindrop rolling down his face and you can’t stop smiling when you see him this happy.

“You make all my dreams come true”, he confesses with a blush.

You stroke his cheek and gets on your tiptoe to kiss him softly. “And all mine are coming true because of you, Stevie”. He holds your hips and makes you twirl, your feet leaving the ground. You laugh heartedly and wraps your arms and legs around him.

You stay maybe ten more minutes or an hour, but when you go back inside, you both drenched and you start to shiver. Steve is quick to bring you in the bathroom and to strip you both and squeezes himself in the shower to help you warm up.

“I know what I’m adding to the list”, he chuckles.

“What’s that?”

“You…moving in with me in an appartement where I fit.”

You laugh and kiss his chest, nodding.

“I think we can cross that too, it’s a yes, Roger.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x girlfriend #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captaim america #marvel fandom

[delucadarlingwriting]

Wayhaven Regency AU

This is a little fic idea I've been throwing around with @crownleys after we spent ALL WEEKEND binging Bridgerton. We've had an AU for ages where we've thrown our detectives (hers, Kira Kingston, and mine Lucas and Barbara Robertson) together and played with how Wayhaven might go with them all involved, so of course we started to 'what if' with them all in a Regency era AU.

Note: this is history lite, generously speaking. N would be horrified, I'm sure.

(Also doing my best to keep this out of the main tag, but if it ends up there anyway, I apologize)

Word count: 716

Summary: Kira Kingston is making her debut into society this year, no matter what her mother, the Dowager Baroness Rebecca Kingston, has to say about it.

Next

"We've put off my debut for four years now!" Kira exclaims. Barbara sighs and slips a ribbon between the pages of her book, closing it gently so that she may better pay attention to her young friend's words. The strawberry blond brows on her face have drawn nearly to touching and her mouth is set into a ferocious expression.

"Has your mother responded to your letter?" Barbara asks, knowing full well the answer. It stands to reason that Kira needs the reminder though.

Of course, this is when Lucas decides to waltz in from outside, where he had apparently been lingering and listening. His waistcoat is entirely unbuttoned and his shoes are muddy. Barbara frowns as he trods all over the nice rug.

"That should hardly matter at this point," Lucas says, his voice booming in the solarium. Kira's face lights up.

"So you agree?" she demands. Lucas laughs.

"Of course I do." He comes over and slings an arm around Kira's shoulders. Barbara growls.

"If you're going to insist on entering society, you'll have to be used to warding off improper behavior," Barbara says, indicating her brother. Kira shrugs.

"It's just Lucas," she replies. Barbara shakes her head.

"He's not your relative though, and no one else will care that he wouldn't take liberties with you. It's all about the appearance of the matter. It's all about what it could be." Barbara can't help lecturing Kira a bit, even though Kira is only half-listening. She knows all of this already.

Lucas takes his arm away to humor her. "Look, I'm the Earl now, right?"

"Right," Kira says, despite him clearly having been speaking to Barbara.

"And you've been a ward of the Earl-myself and my dear dead father before me-for what, ten years?" Lucas shakes his head. "I think at this point I have enough sway to determine you're ready to join the rest of the ton."

"Yes!" Kira says, throwing her arms around Lucas. Barbara simply looks away, to better pretend they aren't acting abominably. Lucas laughs again.

"So I shall send the two of you to the modiste as soon as we arrive to London," Lucas says. Barbara turns back, her interest gained. She would love to have a few new dresses. Shoes as well.

"You know very well I'll be making my own dresses," Kira says with her arms crossed. Lucas grins.

"Surely so. Will you be telling everyone?" he asks. Kira shrugs.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps," Barbara cuts in, "you should focus on telling your mother. Lady Kingston deserves to know that her daughter plans to debut this year."

Kira scoffs. "Rebecca has no need to know. It's hardly as if she finds the time to return any of my letters as it is. I doubt she even opens them."

Neither Robertson denies the possibility. The dowager baroness has struggled dearly since the death of her husband, known best as Rook. The rest of the ton continues to speak of him (with wildly varying opinions on his behavior), which is something Lady Kingston has never been able to bear. Even Kira knows almost nothing of her father.

"It would be a courtesy," Barbara points out. After a moment, she adds, "A courtesy we may wish to...skip, where our mama is concerned."

With a grunt, Lucas nods. "Certainly. She'll pitch such a fuss I worry we'd never manage to leave the country house at all."

"Perhaps we can leave ahead of her this year?" Barbara suggests. Lucas winks.

"Dear sister, you prove yet again to the be the brains to my beauty."

Rolling her eyes, Barbara rises from her seat. Kira, gearing up to defend Barbara's honor in the face of her brother's insult, calms considerably when Barbara loops an arm through hers. "Let's go and compose your letter, dear, and then we might begin preparations for our leave."

Kira nods. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. She's rarely ever at the family home, and I've yet to see her in London during the season anyhow."

"Exactly," Barbara says, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I doubt we should even see her at all for the entire season."

#darling writing #I have no idea if tumblr still only takes the first five tags #so apologies if this ends up in the main tag #4 #5 #wayhaven #twc #regency au

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Klaine Bingo Card

Debut - Young Again by DireDyre

Page Turning - Mirrorball by tkffyrpntsndjckt

Reach for tissues - P. S. If This is Blaine... by JButler

Unusual Occupation - Sitting Waiting Wishing by heartsmadeofbooks

Wild Card - The Matilda Thing by hippohead

Summer - Dancing Through Life by grlnxtdr29

Challenge - he loves me (not) by klaineanummel (I'm hoping fic exchange counts as a challenge)

LOL - The Chaperone by practicalamanda

Don't normally read - Yee Haw! by grlnxtdr29

Thanks for your card - find them here on A03 #Jen

Debut fic: Young again by DireDyre

Based on the movie 17 Again. Kurt is shocked when Blaine kicks him out of the house and files for divorce. When he's suddenly turned 17 again it's his chance to relive his glory years, help his kids in school, and find out why Blaine really left him. Very AU. Some mention of Fabarry for Fabarry fans

~~~~~

2. Page turning fic. Mirrorball by @tkffyrpntsndjcktntsndickt

This year is going to be better. Kurt is going to make sure of that, even if it kills him.

Because it got very close to killing him last year.

~~~~~

3. Fic that made you reach for tissues - P. S. If This is Blaine... by JButler @jayne89

Everyone was shocked when the couple voted “most likely to be married by 30” broke up abruptly when Kurt left for New York. But no one was more surprised than Blaine himself. Now, ten years later, Blaine extends an olive branch that will hopefully bring them both some closure.

~~~~~

4. Fic where one has an unusual occupation - Sitting Waiting Wishing by @heartsmadeofbooks

Kurt Hummel can't find a man worth dating to save his life. Tired of waiting for his elusive Prince Charming, Kurt decides to start a family on his own. But what if Prince Charming is neither opportune nor charming? Kurt is about to start a journey in which romance and fatherhood might go in different directions, and Blaine Anderson might as well be an obstacle… or a destination.

~~~~~

5. Wild Card - The Matilda Thing by @hippohead

Kurt and Blaine are thirty. It's time one of them was brave.

~~~~~

6. Fic set in the summer: Dancing Through Life by @grlnxtdr30

While traveling with the touring company of Wicked, Kurt spends a day in San Francisco, where he meets a street musician with curly hair and hazel eyes. Will an Earthquake shake them apart, or can it bring them together?

~~~~~

7. Fic written for a challenge: he loves me (not) by @klaineanummel

Kurt was already starting to suspect that writing Blaine an anonymous love note was the stupidest idea he'd ever had. Add in Blaine walking in on him while he was writing it and, well. You get a perfect storm.

~~~~~

8.Fic that made you laugh out loud: The Chaperone by @practicalamanda

When a class mom pulls out at the last minute, Kurt fills in as a chaperone for Blaine's second grade class trip. Turns out that "Mr. Anderson" is quite popular with the moms and Kurt doesn't bother to mention that Blaine's his boyfriend.

~~~~~

9. A genre or trope that you don't normally read - Yee Haw! by grlnxtdr29 @grlnxtdr30

After discovering certain items of apparel in his best friend's closet, Blaine realizes that that day on the stairs was NOT the first time he had laid eyes on Kurt Hummel. And he discovers a new kink, as well.

~~~~~

#klaine fanfiction #2023 klaine bingo #klaine fanfic #glee fanfiction

[dykelawlight]

for the fanfic asks: 7, 35, 79 pls? love your writing <3

Thank you so much!! 💞

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

The phone is still ringing. Teru takes off her glasses, grinds the heel of her hand into her eye, and picks it up. If her voice is somewhat flat with irritation and gravelly with fatigue, that's going to have to suffice. “Mikami.” A familiar, amused little laugh trails down the phone wire and lodges itself directly into Teru’s brain. “Aren’t we all business this morning.” Yagami Light, Teru’s kind-of-not-really-she-wishes girlfriend, semi-frequent sex partner, constant object of affection and desire so desperate that sometimes Teru wonders how she survives it. She and Light and Light’s actual girlfriend of eleven years, L, had had a very successful one-night stand a while ago (the first time Teru had had sex of any kind, let alone any kind of indulgence in alternative lifestyle dynamics), after meeting at a fetish club in Shinjuku, that had transformed itself into something longer. Teru’s spent the last six months walking around with a daily ache in her chest (and occasionally elsewhere) that only abates when Light wants her. She likes L fine, too, finds her reasonably attractive, enjoys having sex with her, appreciates her personal brand of dominance ⁠— it wouldn't work if she didn't ⁠— but Teru would go to war and die for Yagami Light. “Hi,” Teru breathes.

35. What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

Hmmmm I think it has to be Hear No Evil 🫡 which is funny because I originally meant for that to be a short kind of comedic oneshot and then it just spiraled into what it IS which is like...a study in Misa ft. background Lawlight horniness. But I really like how Solid and Full ultimately came out, too! (Detecting a trend here of This Was Supposed To Be Short And Oops It's Ten Pages Long Now)

79. Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

Nothing you haven't heard already I'm sure! But my thing really is that even as addicted as I am to reading comments while giggling and kicking my feet I really only write stuff that is actively fun for me. Everything you see around tumblr about avoiding writing for the imagined bad-faith reader is soooo true. ALSO re: writing porn specifically my biggest tip is just vomiting out a couple hundred words of disgustingly horny dialogue and then letting it sit in my notes app for a couple hours and returning to edit it and add in breaks for action and stuff. I find that the pure undiluted grossness turns into some of the hottest stuff.

#can't remember if I've posted that snippet yet if I have you can kill me #thanks again!!

[youritalianbookpal]

Ten Questions Book Review - Foul Lady Fortune by Chloe Gong

What is it? Years after Our Violent Ends, we find Rosalind Lang as an immortal assassin for the Kuomintang. What happens when her superiors assign her as the fake wife of Orion Hong, known playboy actually working for the Kuomintang as well, in a mission to stop the Japanese invasion of China?

Who should read it? If you have read the These Violent Delights duology, if you love pretend relationships, sunshine/grumpy, little sisters who can (and will) kick ass, men who either communicate too much or too little and in either case are a HUGE HEADACHE, sisterhood, and a little bit of magic realism, this is the book for you. I want to add that, while it is suggested, it is not imo strictly required that you read the other duology first - everything that has to be explained to understand what is going on with Rosalind and the others is recalled and narrated within this duology.

Which genre(s) is it? Historical fantasy, YA.

What is the setting? Shanghai (mainly), 1931.

How are the characters? Rosalind, Celia, and Alisa had a lot of potential in the previous series, and I am glad we are getting the opportunity to see them develop more. On the other hand, we have the three Hong siblings that, while lovely, are a bit less developed. I look forward to more Phoebe and Oliver POVs in the next book (and Orion, sure, but he at least got something out of this novel already, more than his siblings at least). I also liked the depiction of less prominent characters, overall a good job in my opinion.

What are the strengths and weaknesses of the novel? The thing I liked best in the novel was probably the characters, as they emerge strongly from the pages. The action is mostly character-driven, to me (I say this because, from the Storygraph reviews, basically no one thinks that lol), and the plot twists actually make sense only if we look with attention at the characters involved. And I always appreciate a plot twist that makes sense. One weakness, as I might have mentioned for the two previous Gong books I've reviewed, is that sometimes very modern vocabulary or concepts are used in the 1930s settings and... it takes me a bit out of the world that is being built by the novels. I have to say, I had more problems with the previous two books, but I still had to google a couple of things while reading Foul Lady Fortune and... an editor should have googled if people really said that stuff in the 1930s, not me.

Did I cry and/or laugh? As far as I can remember, I didn't cry, but Orion and Phoebe for sure have made me laugh out loud.

Who shouldn’t read the book? There is a lot of murder and blood in this. Rosalind describes in detail her injuries (since she can't die from them, she can tell you a lot about them). If you do not like this sort of description, this novel is not for you.

Any random comment? I'm not sure if it fits them or not, but The Only Exception came randomly on my Spotify while I was reading this I can't not take it as a sign that it's a great song for Rosalind and Orion.

Which quote stuck with me?

Rosalind pressed up against the wall, exhaling into the empty hallway. A child who needs discipline? That was a complete and utter joke. They had the longest continuous history of any country in the world. They had been around for dynasties upon dynasties. And yet... and yet. When did imperialists care about history?All they wanted was to crush its conquests to dust: all the better to sweep them nicely into shape.

#ten questions book review #chloe gong #foul lady fortune #book review