#maybe we can buy a strap with it lmao

[vampi-fixx]

festivities

devilman crybaby | akira fudo x reader 

summary: never trust a devilman during the holidays.

word count: 1.8k

tw/cw: 18+ only, akira is aged up to 21+, mentions of weight gain, phone sex (kind of??), unintentional voyeurism, miki is on the phone talking to you while y’all fuck, so many innuendos, akira is relentlessly horny and a simp

--author’s note: lmao i wrote this last year for christmas and never published it. here u go

--

“I have an idea,” Akira starts. 

You spare him an over the-shoulder-glance. You’re bent over the bathroom sink, applying mascara, when he makes his presence known. Sauntering over to you, he cages you to the counter, his hips pressing against your back, his handd curling around your waist. “Fuck the party--let’s celebrate here instead.”

You send Akira an admonishing look in the mirror, and he meets your gaze with a cocky brow. “Seriously? You’re the one who said we’d go. Not to mention we haven’t seen the Makimuras in forever. It’d be rude if you didn’t show up.”

“You can hardly blame me,” he mutters. “What kind of number is this?” His fingers graze your thigh, where your the slip of your dress ends. Truly, it’s hardly enough fabric to be called a proper outfit. Miki was the one who suggested the two of you dress up, and even offered to buy the matching dresses. But you had to do a triple take once the package arrived.

Maybe it’s the extra pounds you packed on during the holidays, or Miki underestimating your measurements. Whatever it is, you’re certain the dress isn’t supposed to look this revealing on you. It hides nothing from the imagination, the red velvet fabric displaying your assets in such a way that you’re a certain you’d make their Christmas party a massive scandal just for showing up in it. You were planning on wearing tights beneath it, and perhaps a cardigan in an attempt to pretend you were somewhat modest in front of your soon-to-be in-laws.

“It’s… an outfit. Is it too much, you think?” you say distractedly, looking for your eyeliner.

Akira’s ever-wandering hand is not distracted, dipping beneath your dress between your thighs, and you hear him let out a low curse once he feels the thin strap of fabric you decided to wear underneath. You half-heartedly shoo his hand away, mumbling a not now, Akira.

In the mirror, you see him pout.

“I think it’s fine. But instead of us going... How about I be your Grinch and steal away Christmas instead?”

You snort, turning around to give him a wry look.

“You can hardly steal something I’m willing to give to you,” you tease.

His gaze darkens. He bites down on his lip, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. Akira is always so easy to rile up, to excite. 

“What else would you be willing to give to me? Right now?” he asks. His hips grind into yours, and you jolt at the feeling of his burgeoning excitement.

You raise a brow. “Are you planning on letting me finish getting ready at least?” 

His mouth crashing onto yours is his answer. It’s a greedy kiss, the kind Akira excels at, the kind that demands every measure of your attention. You melt against him, your hands curling into the wild locks of his hair, dislodging the silly Santa hat you’d asked him to wear.

“All I want for Christmas is you,” he groans once he breaks the kiss, close enough that you can see very clearly the desire written plainly on his face. “On every damn surface of this place.”

“Akira--”

“Preferably naked but…” He bites down on his lip, grinning smugly. Trailing a glance over you. “Red suits you, too.”

In the next moment, Akira hoists you onto the bathroom counter, sending your makeup and various products scattering. You have a half a mind to complain, but then his lips are on yours again, and every thought flies out the window. You whimper into the kiss, and he growls.  

He departs from you suddenly, his gaze thick. “Tell me you want this,” he says hoarsely, swallowing rough. “If you don’t, we can still--the party--”

You wrap your legs around his back, drawing him closer. “Little too late for that, don’t you think,” you say breathlessly, feeling very much how much he wants to continue himself. He’s about to protest, when you place your finger on his lips. “If you make it quick, we can still make it on time.”

Akira raises a brow. “I will.” Akira’s hand undos his fly, dragging his already-hard cock from his pants. He angles your hips up, caging you into the space of your sink, his cock prodding your entrance, before he pauses. He reaches down, grabbing a bottle of lube from the cabinet, before drizzling a generous amount over his length before thinking better of it, and working some into you with his finger.

You bite your lip, tilting your head back. Dimly, you’re thankful that you’d restocked. While your makeout session left a damp spot between your thighs,  Akira is certainly not a modest size, and you appreciated any ease that taking him could come with. When he inserts a second finger, scissoring slightly, and you say in a rush, just put it in already, Fudo, he lets out a short laugh.

But just as the tip of his cock breeches your entrance, your phone rings. The both of you still.

Akira glances down. “It’s Miki.”

You share a mutual expression of muted horror.

“Are you going to,” he stutters out. “What if it’s about the--”

“I… I’m a bit preoccupied right now,” you squeak out.

Or truly, about to be occupied, you think. 

“Answer it.” Akira says finally, glancing back at the phone when it rings a second time. “It’s rude to leave your best friend in the dark.”

It takes you a few tries of fumbling with the phone, but you finally press answer.

“Hey, I hope it’s a good time to call!”

“N-Never better,” you say, attempting to keep your voice even, all too aware of the way Akira’s shoulders are shaking in his attempt to hold in his laughter. You smack his shoulder. 

“Sorry for being so last minute. I know I told you you didn’t need to bring anything to the party, but Taro kind of burnt the cake! Do you think you could pick up dessert on the way here?”

“Yeah, no problem—f-fuck!” You yelp, the breath rushing out of you in a rush once Akira surges forward, sheathing himself inside you fully. He snickers, and you bite down on your lip to prevent any other sounds out of you at being filled with his hard, thick, throbbing length.

“Are you okay?” Miki asks worriedly.

“Y-yeah it’s just...” You shoot him a glare, daring him to continue. You swallow hard, blurting out the first excuse you can think of. “I-I hurt my back yesterday.  I bent it weird.”

While that actually has happened before, you fail to mention that it occurred  because Akira got a little too eager with positioning you. To this day, your coffee table is still wobbly. 

“Oh no! I hope it’s not too bad.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just--ah!--kind of sore, still. I’ve tried heat, b-but--mm--no dice.”

He’s trying to kill you, you swear. Akira’s gaze is trained intently on your reactions. His cock ruts against you, sliding out of you with a pop before he eases his way in. It’s already a struggle not to whine at the feel of how he stretches you to your absolute limit. You hope to god that Miki can’t hear the slight squelch of his cock entering you, aided by his lube and your slick. 

“Be sure to try ice, too! Sometimes a combination of both helps. But huh… If your back is that bad, maybe you shouldn’t come?

“N-no that’s not what I meant—”

“It’s okay! To be honest, today isn’t the best day for the party anyways. Mom and Dad are stressing over a huge catering order that was just placed! Maybe sometime closer to Christmas would work better.”

“Yeah,” Akira interrupts. “I think that might work better for us, too.”

“Akira! I didn’t know you were there. You better take good care of them and their back.”

Akira’s eyes lock onto yours. He drags his cock out of you fully, and you have to bite back a moan. “I am. You know how (Y/N) is, Miki—they never know when to stop. I keep telling them they need rest—“ He slams back into you, and you inhale sharply. “And relaxation—“ he says, grinding his hips against yours. At this point your legs are shaking.  “But...” he chuckles, the sound masking his breathlessness. Even he pauses to catch his breath a few beats too long. 

“You know how stubborn they are. It’s like I have to pound it into them.” He grins wickedly at you. You smack his chest, your other hand clasped over your mouth, desperate not to make any noise that would arouse Miki’s suspicion. 

“Well I’m glad they have you there, Akira. And (Y/N) please don’t feel bad! We can have a mini get-together another day,” she says, completely unaware of your predicament. 

“S-Sounds good,” is all you can say, because Akira’s started doing a rocking motion with his hips and it’s taking all you can not to cry out. Even he seems to be struggling to muffle his voice, a few grunts slipping out of him. You hope to god your phone’s mic isn’t picking up on the smack of his balls against your ass, which are growing louder and louder. 

When the call ends, Akira places your phone to the side, before lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, but he leans forward, nearly bending you in half to pound into you. You grip the countertop, moaning shamelessly as Akira curses.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—do you think she noticed?” He grits out.

“Oh g-god, please don’t ask that right now.”

“Ha,” Akira laughs. His fingers slip between your bodies, rubbing your clit furiously. You mewl out his name, trembling around him, and he pinches your nub. You jolt, your head falling back. Akira grunts, his head lowering to grunt into your neck, “Fuck, why are you so tight?”

His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, his hips near brutal in the way they smacking against yours. “I-I’m close,” he finally grunts out, “Where do you want it?”

“N-Not inside, please... the last thing I need is your cum dripping out of me after I’ve gotten ready.” You shiver at the thought. Whether it’s due to his Devilman physiology or not, Akira always cums a ridiculous amount. You’ll find remnants of it inside you hours after your last session. 

It takes one more thrust before he pulls out of you, groaning out your name as he cums all over your dress, white streaks generously painting the velvet fabric. Then Akira’s slumping forward, catching himself from falling atop you. He’s panting heavily, his cheeks flushed. 

“I... wow, you really went for it, huh,” you say breathlessly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you. Akira chuckles, swiping a finger through one of the streaks of his spend, spreading it around. 

“I don’t think we’re done yet. You could use more of that falling snow look,” he says, gesturing towards your ruined outfit. 

By the end of it, Santa’s Sexy Helper is looking more like they made the naughty list.

#akira fudo x reader #akira x reader #devilman crybaby x reader #akira fudo smut #devilman crybaby smut #not sfw #tati writes

[hellcatinnc]

Toma - Second Times A Charm??

Some Spoilers Ahead.

So decided to randomly pick one of the love interests I hadn't done much with and the one that one out was Toma. I did his story in Amnesia Memories and was creeped out by his yandere bullshit. That being said I tried to do Later x Crowd and she was so nice to him that it sickened me so I left it after maybe a chapter and its taken me lik 6 months to come back to him now. I said fuck it I push through it I'm thinking its been enough time that even though I know what he did its not effecting me I think as much not to try..... TRY key word to see how he is romantically I mean come on compared to Yang's story I just did Toma is a freakin pussy cat. I took some screen shots of some moments I need to get off my chest so far though..

Exactly I agree with her so much what does Toma have Ikki don't have.... NOT A DAMN THING!! Ikki is life..... Thought was funny how she called Toma a stalker though.

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I have alot to say about this... first off the fact that he admits he knew he was a bad guy to her and that he lost control says volumes about him. He is also giving her a way out that if she loses feelings for him or that she gets scared to just walk away and he will not harm her. He also wants to be punished for what he did he feels like he shouldn't be treated like nothing happened. He wants to be happy but understands he has to take consequences for his actions. However what the hell lately when these Japanese guys say good girl it just makes my heart beat much faster.. what are these men doing to me and now Toma joins that group sighs I hate to admit I liked it... but I did!

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I just couldn't not bring this up I mean its like addressing the elephant in the room. Dude still has that damn cage on his balcony SMH. Then he talks about being strapped for cash yet at least he admits that cage was costly and unnecessary next time maybe he will think twice before impulsively buying stupid shit. However when she wanted him in bed with her snuggling he admitted to having no control around her and he wanted to be locked in the cage now too damn funny. Guess this means new kink sessions with Toma we will turn him into a submissive that bows down to the MC so he can get a taste of his own medicine. However I don't see him being submissive least be fun to put the cage to use then... (OMG what is wrong with me this man should not be someone I even thought about that with lmao)

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Aww look at that he learned to stop smothering her and locking her away from the world. Maybe those 3 months away from her after did him some damn good, who knows maybe he saw counseling and is on meds now.

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I love that he hasn't forgiven himself he knows what he did was fucked up and is determined to not let himself off so easy even though she acts like it didn't happen. I actually respect him for this think my heart warmed up a bit to him for this. I mean this is the man that I loved in him before the dark shit he did this was the best friend of hers talking. Anyways that he promises not to tie her up or anything again lets see if he sticks to his promise. Only time will tell.

#otome #anime #gaming #shoujo #shoujo anime #amnesia toma #amnesia memories #amnesia #amnesia later #amnesia later x crowd #yandere #male yandere

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Managed to obtain wifey's computer chair but finally got outbid on the luggage kit (should have known $10 was too good to be true lol, I'll wait til we're more liquid and try again with a larger budget on a different lot). Hopefully going to be able to pick up the kitty bench tomorrow if it's still available (here's to hoping it doesn't get snagged today) but if it isn't I'll just keep my eye out for new opportunities there too, probably on Saturdays instead of Fridays so I can schedule pick up immediately the next day.

I need to get ahold of some fabric with decent stretch to it, so maybe some old shirts or dresses with decent prints but some wear and tear that can be upcycled. A button jar would be nice too if I can find one, but I'm not too fussed, I can order buttons if I that's the only thing I need new.

The biggest thing that still needs buying is new clothes for wifey, and some of that I can take care of myself with fabric and my sewing kit, and some can be managed with thrifting and time, but at least a couple of items will need to be purchased newly tailored, so we'll have to save up a little for that one (next paycheck I think should have room for it). I may go through some of my clothes and see which ones can be turned into fabric or upcycled for wifey into something new. I know I have an undershirt that I can use, and I think a pair of leggings which would work well for something.there's a dress that doesn't fit me anymore with a black and white gingham pattern that could be good for upcycling into a blouse for wifey I think if I go about it right. I'll definitely have to ask her to let me use her as a model while I drape the pattern though and she'll HATE that lmao, my love does not enjoy standing still long enough for me to drape a blouse. I can picture it though, with a nice deep neck, a little pop of crepe and color at the cleavage, maybe a racerback or thick shoulder but sleeveless straps to make it a nice summer blouse and so it wears well under short jackets or fall sweaters, a scooped hem at the waist so it tucks well or wears gently at the tummy rather than being constricting.

So that's probably 4 items or so I can make with what we have at home. Not quite a wardrobe, but a start! And we'll see what else I find in our closets that can be put to use. I have a skirt that needs badly to be upcycled but no idea what to do with it. The underpinnings could probably be repurposed for...well more underpinnings, and the skirt itself is a breezy cotton, so maybe another blouse? It has a lot of pink, which really isn't wifey's color, but maybe I could pull it off. Maybe for the color pop on that shirt with a matching bonnet for her to wear with her twists once we put them in? We'll see what I manage. There's a lot of skirt to work with, I could probably pull something fun off. Oooh. A matching pullover. That would be cute as hell, and real summery. Maybe I can pull off all three if there's enough fabric and give her a whole set.

Okay, so that's 6 items to go for, largely shirts and underpinnings, which is good and important. But we still need to figure out some pants and a few more shirts before I'll be ready to set this project down, so we'll see what else comes of it. I think I'll take the weekend to break out all these pieces I'm going to alter and break them down to the fabric I'll need so I can just sew when the time comes. Maybe Monday since wifey and I both have the day off we'll do some draping if she's up for it and she and I can listen to podcasts while I get started on the shirt at least. I might be able to make two of the shirt in different iterations if I'm lucky and sizing works out the way I think it will. We'll see. If not, I'll see if any of wifey's old shirts are in a state enough to be upcycled.

I may look into the idea of a patchwork shirt? Scraps from various smaller or damaged garments that wouldn't be able to make a whole garment alone but can be fitted together into a neat design? And some sheet slacks. Those would be nice to do for wifey. Easy to buy sheets for cheap from the theift store and turn them into tailored slacks if I have enough buttons.

Okay. I have my plan. I have enough fabric to work with between now and the end of the month, and then at my end of month payday, we'll go thrufting and I'll get more along with a good button jar so I can start expanding into more complex garments.

#sewing plans #personal notes

[celestial-thoughts]

tuesday, may 23 - [ trivia tuesday ]

see original post here

happy trivia tuesday! here's a behind the scenes look at the creative process behind a single strap (and other toys). as with the prism trap saga as a whole, many of the concepts and ideas for this fic came from my lovely prism trap anon <3 below the cut you'll find some of our messages we've sent as we bounce ideas off of each other.

(i was going to post screenshots of said messages, but tumblr was making it very hard to fit the images together, so i have simply copied and pasted.)

for context, this conversation happened back in march, while i was writing "three isn't always a crowd."

prism trap anon: So you had mentioned in lend a hand that shayna helped rhea pick out a strap... you get where I'm going? ;)

me: ohhhh i get the idea ;) what were you thinking?

me: chances are it will probably be a separate fic, but i might work it into this one depending on where you're gping with this

prism trap anon: I’m thinking rhea and shayna are going through rhea’s strap collection seeing what they have and if shayna wants to get anything different for them. I guess that’s where you could make it a separate fic, like it’s later on. But anyway they find the one she helped pick out and she’s like “oh I remember this one” and dakota is like “wait what?! How…?” Blushing and flustered. Then shayna just casually says she helped rhea pick it out. And while rhea is a bit embarrassed to admit it, dakota thinks the whole thing is completely endearing. That rhea was willing to accept help when it came to that stuff makes her feel so loved. I could see dakota suggesting shayna use it on her as a thank you for helping pick it out. Like it’s an “it’s only fair” kinda thing

me: i love that! i think shayna wouldn’t feel ready to use a strap on dakota quite yet and instead would be perfectly content to watch rhea use one. but as a separate fic, absolutely. maybe shayna and rhea are looking at toys and stuff online while going through what rhea and dakota have already collected over their relationship and dakota walks in during this and just immediately gets extremely flustered because shayna and rhea are able to talk about this stuff way more casually than her.

me: also, the strap that shayna helped rhea pick is 100% secretly dakota’s favorite, which just further solidifies the fact that shayna fits perfectly with her and rhea.

prism trap anon: That’s true!! Shayna would probs wait a while before using one on dakota. But yeah, I love that! Dakota would try to walk back out of the room and rhea would just drag her back in and have her sit with them. Tell her that everything was okay and that she could help them if she wanted to. Then shayna would chime in with “or you can just sit there and look pretty” which would make dakota blush more but we all know she loves it.

prism trap anon: Oh. My. God. That’s genius! I’m kinda mad at myself that I didn’t think of that but that’s why you’re the writer lol. Nahhh but that’s perfect tho! What a way to tie them together. A single strap LMAO

prism trap anon: Omfg pls feel free to use that as the title for that one btw

me: honestly, i probably will lol! and yes, dakota would definitely be too shy to say anything but whenever she sees something she likes, her eyes light up and rhea just goes *add to cart*

me: and rhea and shayna definitely spoil dakota because they love seeing her happy so when they find something she likes, they simply can’t help themselves from buying it even though dakota insists that they shouldn’t spend so much money on her.

prism trap anon: Please do lol! Yeah I totally agree though. Dakota wouldn’t have to say a word and rhea would buy it. And rhea and shayna would spoil the shit out of her

#celestials thoughts #trivia tuesday #fanfic week #prism trap anon

[salsentertainmentcorner]

Show Review #1

Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix

Spoilers for: Season 1

Main takeaway: Very fun and very nice animation, absolutely had a blast watching it and if you're a fan of Ubisoft then I'd recommend the show, maybe you can appreciate it better than me (Casual fan lmao what a loser)

Rayman also curses

6/10 would watch again once they announce a season 2

Okay actual breakdown under the cut

I'll get the good stuff out first

First thing to know I'm a sucker for Retro Futurism and the 80s aesthetic this show pulls goes HARD, visually pleasing in all corners and an animation that does not disappoint, fan of mixed mediums for storytelling? This show's got you; the sequences reminiscent of retro graphics were executed pretty well and served as a nice break of the fast paced action throughout: Favorite one of these were the Dolph and Sarah sequences in the virtual reality facility.

Soundtrack also does not disappoint with small references both in melodies and/or names to the games it's paying homage to.

The world is also really interesting and the show spends enough time to get us curious about everything and also catch us up to speed to its history. Certainly left me hooked to what season 2 will do.

Okay now the negatives

The show is short, like, really really short (under 3 hours), and I don't know if it was a producer's choice or a creative choice, maybe they were told they had 6 episode of less than 30 minutes each to do what they wanted and that's it unless it performs well and then maybe we'll get a 2nd season (SMALL TANGENT:

The show is filled with love, you can tell, the people who worked on it had a clear vision in what they wanted to say and the world they wanted to show)

My main issue is the way they paced it, we're introduced to Dolph Laserhawk (main character) and Alex Taylor (soon to be ex-boyfriend), then Alex betrays Dolph, and then we are introduced to the rest of the crew (Jade, Pey'j and Bullfrog) all in the same episode, this wouldn't be an issue, except next episode they kill Jade, and yeah, shocked they decided to kill a character who I thought would be major right on episode 2), while all this is happening we get to learn the world they live in (dystopian capitalist and fascist nightmare run by Eden (who hey are also the Templar Order for all my assassin's creed fans)) and why it fucking sucks (good stuff good stuff), also Rayman is a spokesperson for Eden and a propaganda tool

This is my problem; these two episodes, needed time to breath in between, both for Laserhawk as a character to process what is happening and for us the audience to acclimate ourselves to the world better, because boy this goes from shit to SHIT in a matter of episode to episode and you better strap in because we're not taking a breathing we're just GOING.

So problem #1; pacing of the story, which leads me to

Problem #2; the characters didn't feel like they connected to each other that much

This is not relating to characters like Dolph and Alex (who clearly had a dynamic before and through the brief interactions we see in episode 1 we can interpret it), or Jade and Pey'j who had a previous history and thus you can tell why they work well together (TANGENT: I have not played Beyond Good and Evil but WHAT THE FUCK was up with Pey'j j having a crush on Jade??? That's your adoptive daughter basically (according to the show) so what the fuuuuuuuck).

This mostly comes with how the group relates to one another, with the exception of Bullfrog (being the character who probably has the least development or archetype change (which would be a criticism if not for the narrative to demand one grounded character)), who kind of holds the whole team together. This is an issue for me, because when Dolph is in his reality dream I can't really buy he would imagine himself on a beach with Alex (by this point death and with a lot of conflicted feelings about) and the rest of the Ghosts.

I feel like 1 episode as a breather where we get to see more of the crew together while cutting to Alex planning or scheming will A) Make Jade's death even more impactful (because, come on, that was totally what you wanted to do) B) give the crew more time to connect to each other and us to them as audience and C) Give both Dolph and Alex time to breath as characters and explore more of the world.

The third issue is something I noticed and maybe something I'd do differently, l watched the trailer after the show, and the way the trailer sells the show is more of a "Mission of the week" type of show (which I get considering it pulls heavy on the action adventures of the 80s'). This led me to think about the pacing problem again and thought about a few things.

Hypothetically, if I was to give them the time to develop this first part of the story, I'd give them 2 seasons of 5 episodes each

The first three episodes (Introduction - First Mission - Capture and Violence) could've been fit in the first season with Alex as the main antagonist, setting up Rayman for his arc

[time-is-restored]

do u guys think it maybe says smth that im currently getting more narrative + emotional fulfilment from dostoevsky that Hates You as compared to the fucking football sitcom.

anyway patho au thoughts below <3 <- (it actually turned into a manifesto abt my thoughts abt Original flavour pathologic. will add au thoughts in a reblog otherwise this is gonna be unconscionably long LMAO)

the thing about the Macro Metaphor™ (oh yeah baby this is gonna be a POST) in pathologic is like. at least w how i experienced it pathologic had to be a video game because it had to give its players the closest thing to free will that is possible in a world that has been crafted from the ground up to give you An Experience™.

and the fact that what little free will we APPEAR to have is largely an illusion cast by various dialogue trees stating that we are doing something unexpected is . very much the point! to get anything out of pathologic you have to 100% buy into the fiction as presented to you. bc the game is incredibly meta, that includes buying into the idea that what u are playing IS at its core a video game made by ppl w a very specific and esoteric mission statement, who are doing their level best to funnel u towards the themes + questions that they find most important within this narrative.

. okay ive gotta talk about The Loop actually strap the fuck in (note: a lot of what follows is copied + pasted from me explaining my feelings abt pathologic to someone who Has Not Played pathologic, so sorry if im being over explanatory at points!)

so in clara's route there's a specific bit of dialogue u can get w the developers where they say clara is 'the only one out of the three [protagonists] that could accomplish a True miracle. who could break the loop.'

the 'loop' in question is. kind of hard to pin down. but its basically referring to the inherent contradiction at the heart of pathologic existing as a game: the developers wanted to explore how it is impossible for a miracle to exist in anything other than a temporary moment of spontaneity. if you try to cage it, it is no longer a miracle, it is a process which has consequences (in the game, this consequence is - at least according to some povs - the plague):

SO they give the player a closed system of a world, in which free will is By Definition impossible (you can't do anything the developers haven't explicitly programmed in), and essentially ask you to perform a miracle. on one hand, they admit to hoping that you can do it. on the other, they acknowledge it's impossible, without some Other miracle interceding.

thats why, in this same conversation w the developers, they talk abt the other healers' endings like they are simultaneously predestined, and like they can be changed after all! like here:

^ put a pin in that 'except for a lapse of judgement, but we're not concerned with that' comment!

SO. this is what's so interesting about CLARA being (apparently!) able to break the loop

bc the only thing that concretely sets clara apart from the others (they all have a bunch of superficial differences, but im pretty sure its not bc she's a girl, or a child, for example) is that she has no backstory.

she wakes up with no memory of her life, no real understanding of herself outside of what she is being accused of being (a thief, and a plague bearer). she is able to lie (state something about herself that has nothing in the game supporting it) without lying (state something about herself that has nothing in the game contradicting it).

due to pathologic's own rules (in this case, im literally just referring to it being a video game that was coded by a team and then released on steam), there is no way for a character to truly do something unexpected. clara acknowledges this specifically and gets rlly morbid abt it here:

however! because pathologic is inherently a conversation between the developers and the players, and the developers can't actually control OR react to the completely internal experience the player has while playing the game, there is a level of free will here that can't actually be eroded!

the game can TRY to account for as many different dialogue options, quests, endings, general opinions abt the world + its characters, but bc the total amount of code has to stop somewhere before infinity, it can't get it 100% right. there are emotions + opinions abt pathologic that u are going to experience as a player that pathologic itself cannot or has not accounted for!

clara's miracle is that she's (in universe) as unrestrained by the programmers as the player is (out of universe). she can't be caged any more than u can! YOU can't be caged bc u literally don't exist in the world that the developers have 100% control over, even while they spend several hundred hours of gameplay trying to convince u that u do. and CLARA can't be caged bc there's literally nothing to tie her down! she has no degree of verisimilitude that she has to stick to, no bounds on what is reasonable vs unreasonable for her to do. we ultimately don't know enough about her for her to ever be 'out of character'.

pathologic is inherently a role playing game, but when clara (or, technically, you AS clara) rejects the role she is given, you break from one of the most restrictive shackles the game has had weighing u down in the past two playthroughs. daniils often a prick to ppl he shouldn't be, burakh can't be neutral about His Fucking Town Dying, etc. if u took those things away from the characters just to give the player more freedom AS a player, the game would be compromising with you - something that pathologic explicitly refuses to do (14% of ppl who play the game ever beating n1, etc).

but clara can say fucking ANYTHING!! like. i cannot emphasise enough that you, as the player, as clara, lie about the fact that you have an identical twin, and then summon this twin into existence. its literally the first thing you do in the whole game!

because that's the rule!!! the player cannot be allowed to say something about the world that isn't true, without the explicit and recognisable intent of telling a falsehood! but NOTHING that clara says can be demonstrated to be false, bc there's nothing to check against!!! the executors EVEN imply that the version of clara you meet throughout the game (the one u call the 'evil twin'), IS actually clara, and those conversations are the PLAYER talking to the 'original' clara. which means that by PLAYING the game, you are in equal parts replacing + rewriting clara!

again, this isn't even CLOSE to the degree ur able to transform the other protagonists - the opinions they do/don't have abt their own fate + endings are explicitly laid out to u in black and white. daniil can think the polyhedron is beautiful, OR he can be afraid of it, etc. while you can CHOOSE to change ur mind between each conversation, there is no 'both' or 'neither' option at any point. you have to pick from what ur given.

like . this is the dialogue u get after asking abt what the haruspex's route was 'about'. the line before this says 'Executor: Diverging branches. He was the only one who could attain true freedom. He wasn't facing the kind of dilemma that the ever-deceived Bachelor found so dismal.'

its like. this is simultaneously the most obtuse thing these fuckers say in the whole game but also!!! there were feelings involved!!!!!!!!!

the 'loop' is that there is no freedom, and yet there is love. the game is not real but you get attached to the player characters as if it is. you see things through their eyes, and start to agree that these pre-determined, tragic resolutions to an explicitly harsh binary choice are correct, for the characters enacting them (HENCE THE 'except for a lapse of judgement' comment! pull that pin back out! yes, anyone who plays the bachelor's route is able to CHOOSE to guide him towards another ending. but how many of those players are able to genuinely sit with the bachelor's ideals + fears, and convince themselves that that is an action he himself would take! not you, but dankovsky! the developer's aren't concerned with any given instance of the player abusing their authority over the healers' lives. they're INTERESTED in taking that authority and choosing not to abuse it. to commit to the world as written. to make the impossible choice).

clara's route is like yes obviously there is a journey programmed in here there is an ending just like there is for every other character, and clara (the npc, when you don't play as her) argues for it just as strongly as you do when ur playing her + taking her over. but what's JUST as inevitable is that someone will push past that, will play through her route, will separate her out from the developer's (admitted!) confusion + rush + muddled intentions, and make a true miracle happen! its a loop! but its a miraculous one! the miracle is that you played the game at all!!

look at this! look at clara staring her fate as written in the eye, and saying 'fuck off, im busy!'

the miracle is the fact that the developers, while making a game about how you cannot cage a miracle/force one to persist, gave the player enough freedom to prove them wrong. the miracle is the fact that clara rejects her fate-as-written, to be the plague bearer, to destroy the game and everyone involved in it, and instead DEMANDS to be a miracle-worker who can and will save the town and all the lives within it. the miracle is that you save everyone that it is possible to save. the miracle is that you want to save them at all. the miracle is that the player finishes all three routes of pathologic. the miracle is that anyone who experiences this game, first-hand or second-hand, whether they finished it or not, now has a totally unique experience w and interpretation of that game. freedom clawed from the jaws of a closed system.....

the miracle! is art!!!!! is the inherent flimsiness of communication, both symbolic and written and visual and auditory and!!!!!!!! the miracle is that you're playing a game made two decades again written in RUSSIAN while the game developers pull out literally every trick in the book to make you have a TERRIBLE time and want to give up and you DON'T!!!! you refuse to give up on what they're telling you! you refuse to not let this experience matter, in however small a way!!!!!!!!!

the miracle is that the game devolpers could not build a tomb foreboding enough to keep the players from diving in head first, crashing face first into spice traps and vats of acid and plague bearing rats and fucking homing-missile knives and. idk. mummies or some shit what the hell do you find in a cursed tomb

the miracle is that the game means something to you even when the game is actively trying to force u to give up + let go of any sense of agency and control. 'your actions are meaningless, you are helping no one, this bloodshed is inevitable and in many concrete ways you are making it worse' -> 'OH BOY DAY FIVE <3'

the miracle is also that clara convinces like seven fucking people to die for her but. y'know. this might as well happen.jpg

like . this is the dialogue u get after asking abt what the haruspex's route was 'about'. the line before this says 'Executor: Diverging branches. He was the only one who could attain true freedom. He wasn't facing the kind of dilemma that the ever-deceived Bachelor found so dismal.'

its like. this is simultanoeusly the most obtuse thing these fuckers say in the whole game but also!!! there were feelings involved!!!!!!!!!

the 'loop' is that there is no freedom, and yet there is love. the game is not real but you get attached to the player characters as if it is. you see things through their eyes, and start to agree that these pre-determined, tragic resolutions to an explicitly harsh binary choice are correct, for the characters enacting them (HENCE THE 'except for a lapse of judgement' comment! yes, anyone who plays the bachelor's route is able to CHOOSE to guide him towards another ending. but how many of those players are able to genuinely sit with the bachelor's ideals + fears, and convince themselves that that is an action he himself would take! the developer's aren't concerned with any given instance of the player abusing their authority over the healers' lives. they're INTERESTED in taking that authority and choosing not to abuse it. to commit to the world as written. to make the impossible choice).

clara's route is like yes obviously there is a journey programmed in here there is an ending just like there is for every other character, and clara (the npc, when you don't play as her) argues for it just as strongly as you do when ur playing her + taking her over. but what's JUST as inevitable is that someone will push past that, will play through her route, will separate her out from what the developers wanted from her, and make a true miracle happen! its a loop! but its a miraculous one! the miracle is that you played the game at all!!

#pathologic au #this is VERY long under the cut open at ur own risk #the bulk of this was written in an absolute frenzy to vee my dear friend vee. they tried so hard to understand what the fuck i was going on #abt <3 anyway hi. i think lyth activated some sort of sleeper agent code phrase in my mind w this au i haven't been able to be normal abt #this game OR noonethinkslikethisuareabrokenperson trio in w e e k s

[theredquilt]

.

#the other day my mum text to ask if I'd be taking my partners name #and I was like #'is that a joke? do you not know me at all??' #like its actually quite funny how little attention she apparently pays to whats going on around her #anyway #people can do what they want but like no I won't be taking a mans name #I'm still a furious 9 year old playing in the mud #that isn't going to change #today we got a 'happy wedding' card from his uncle and aunt #(who we hadn't told his parents must just be telling people) #and it was addressed to mr and mrs *his initial and last name* #so thats fun #the erasure of my identity has already begun #🙃🙃🙃🙃 #we're not even married yet #good times good times #but they did give us a cheque for £50 #(who the fuck still uses cheques) #maybe we can buy a strap with it lmao #. #(just to reiterate because this is tumblr and people can't read - #there is nothing wrong with taking your partners name - #its just not something I've ever been interested in)

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)

                  You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive.  It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.

If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them.  It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.

For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex.  But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand.  In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically.  He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family.  You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.

You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.

And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks.  Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again.  Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.

So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival.  Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.

The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English.  Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.

Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.

Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment.  You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.

The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different.  He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.

You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms.  Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.

“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.

He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him.  As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you.  No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.  

But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner.  His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.

“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.

“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side.  “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”

“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.

“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.

Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs.  Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.

Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap.  You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?

Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.

“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”

“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.

“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.

“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.

“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck. 

“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.  

“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder.  You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.

“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.

“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.

James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.

“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you.  “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”

The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.

“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued.  “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least?  Always by my side… like any good pet.”

A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly.  You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him.  But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.

James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.

“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal.  “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”

“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.

“You want more, don’t you?  Tako očajno…” he chuckled.  You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips.  “You want to be fucked, yes?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.

Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.

James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.

He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.

“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.

“Yes I do,” you denied.  “Because he told me to.”

Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip.  You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.

You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.

“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.

“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.

Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.  

You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.

“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.

“N-no, please,” he blurted out.

“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go.  You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.

“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”

“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him.  But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant.  “You find them attractive, don’t you?”

“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like.  And tasted like.”

Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).

You looked at Sam expectantly.  “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”

His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track.  “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.

“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”

His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.

“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into.  You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.

“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted.  “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”

Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.

Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.

“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.

“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare.  Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove.  “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.  

You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”

Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.

Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate.  And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.

He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.  

“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth.  “Fuck, can I come?”

“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.

You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.

“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples.  “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock.  I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”

As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.  

“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.

“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.

Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting.  “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two.  And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected.  “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”

You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance.  It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.

That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see.  Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.  

“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.  

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side.  But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.

He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long.  “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”

“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.  

He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress.  “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.  

Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.

The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.

“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”

“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.

“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.

You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.

“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come.  You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you.  “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.

You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers.  “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.

Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste.  You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.

He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression.  They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.

"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.

"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.

All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option.  He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly.  Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?

“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.

“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.

“Good girl.”

But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep.  You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.  

“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.

“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned.  "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."

“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”

You felt him nod against the back of your neck.  “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you.  Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.

The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him.  He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.

He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.

"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?

"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.

It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years.  Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.

///

dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”

lutka = лутка = “doll”

draga = драга = “dear/beloved”

tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"

tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes smut #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sambucky x reader #tfatws fanfiction

[raineydays411]

Thanks T

 Summary: A dad is supposed to be your rock. Someone you can go to when times are hard. Someone whos supposed to protect you. WHat happens when your dad doesn’t fit the bill, and Tony does?

A/n: Hello yall! So this story hit really close to home for me lmao. It was mentioned that there aren’t any good dad/step dad Tony fics so I hope you like it. Everyone thank @alphaandromedae97 and an anon for this fic. 

Hope yall enjoy!

Your life was complicated. 

How can it not be when Tony “billionaire playboy” Stark is your step dad. 

Yes you read that right, step dad. It’s funny really, turns out he has a thing for waitresses that aren’t interested in him at first. That waitress being your mom.

They met when she was working a shift at the restaurant she works at, and he came in with Avengers. He expected her to fall at their feet like everyone else did, but she just scoffed and asked for their order. Pretty epic. 

Then one long montage later, and they ended up getting married. You were happy for your mom, of course. Deep down, Tony is a good man and you knew he’d do anything for your mom. And he’s always been nice to you, making sure you were okay with him proposing and then you moving upstate with him and your mom. He always made sure you felt included, maybe a little too much. He actually took interest in your life, which you’ll always appreciate. 

But you were a total daddy's girl by heart. You always felt like you had a close relationship with your biological father. He was a good dad, he took you out to movies, went to recitals, and always made sure to take you to the father-daughter dance your school district put on every year. It was your tradition. But after your parents divorced a few years ago, it seemed like he was getting more and more distant from you. He stopped calling as much, would skip out on your days to visit him and when you did visit, he’d lock himself in his office, claiming he had to finish some paperwork. It broke your heart, knowing that a man you were so close with, seems to be detaching himself from your life. But, in his defence he always managed to take you to the father-daughter dance. He always did. No matter how long the both of you went without seeing each other, no matter how long you haven’t spoken, he always made sure to take you. 

That act alone, reassured you that he did still love you. He was just busy. In fact, you were getting ready to go to the final father-daughter dance, as you were going to graduate this year and therefore you would be too old to attend the next year. This year was especially important to you. You wanted this night to be perfect. 

And you were positive your father would pull through as he has the past years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were filled with excitement as you tried on multiple different dresses. You always liked this part of getting ready, the dress shopping. 

The confidence you feel when you finally found the right dress. The happy feeling you and your mother had, browsing through the dress shop downtown. Tony offered to buy you a custom designer dress, but you couldn’t accept. This was the shop you’ve been going to since you were a little girl, since you went to your very first dance with your dad. Call it nostalgia or tradition, but you couldn’t shop anywhere else. 

“ Hey ma! I think I found the one.” You shout from the dressing room, finally finding your dress after hours of searching. 

“Come out here and let’s see bug” She replies from where shes seated. You take a deep breath, soothing the wrinkles on the dress and walking outside. Your mother gasps as she see the gown. It was beautiful really. It was a glittery, lilac purple floor length dress with spaghetti straps. And it even had pockets! You were absolutely obsessed. Plus, you could probably use it as a prom dress if you really wanted to.

“Oh baby...you look so beautiful...” You mom says, tearing for the millionth time. 

“Ma, are you crying again?!” You laugh, “ Come on, that's the fifth time you’ve cried since we’ve been in the store!”

She laughs with you, sniffling as she wipes her tears,” I’m sorry, but you’re getting so big, it feels like it was only yesterday we were walking in this shop to get your first dress...and now...” She starts to cry again.

You smile softly, understanding what your mom was saying. You were in kindergarten when you first started attending these meetings, now you’re a senior in highschool. 

“Alright, no more crying. It’s a happy day for you. Has your father called texted you when he was going to come pick you up?” Your mom asked wiping her tears.

You frown, “ No, I haven;’t hear from him since two weeks ago when he said he wanted to get lunch.”

You can see your mom roll her eyes in the mirror, “ Mom he’s just busy. I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”

“Oh sure, I just hate that he doesn’t answer you fast enough.”

“I know ma, but he has work” You argue, “ He calls when he can, and that's okay.”

Your mom sighs, knowing that you were stubborn when it comes to your father. 

“ Well, let’s get this wrapped, Tony wants to get lunch and we need to convince him to get something other than shawarma.” 

You roll your eyes, “ God, what’s with that man and shawarma. It’s like his life line or something”

“I know!”

After the two of you buy the dress, you pick up Tony from the HQ. You loved the drive up there,mainly because of the scenery, but also cause you can see Cap running laps outside.

“Hell my love, hey kiddo” Tony greets switching seats with your mom.

‘Hey T” You greet, smiling at the man. 

“Did you find the dress?” He asks, driving away from his place of work and to a restaurant. 

“Yeah! It’s like the one I told you I wanted. I was surprised it was there to be honest.” You reply, “ Mom practically dehydrated herself shopping though.”

“Oh? How many times did she cry this time? Cause she was crying earlier when she was getting read-- OW! Hey I’m driving” He exclaims as your mom swats his arm.

You giggle at their antics, chest warming with the sight of your mom happy again.

“She cried five times while we were shopping. Five!”

“Five? I didn’t know the human body had that much water.”

The two of you chuckled as your mom made an offended noise.

“I hate that the two of you get on so well.” She pouts, “ And excuse me if I’m a little sad my baby is growing up so fast.”

You tune out the rest of their conversation as your phone buzzes. 

Dad

Hey kid, I’m gonna have to meet you at the school tomorrow. I have a meeting that’s gonna run late.

You

Okay daddy, I’ll see you there <3

You frown, your dad always managed to pick you up from the house. He used to take you to eat before the dance. And he always used to take the day off, devoting his time to you.

“ Uh oh, someone's frowning back there.” Tony remarks, “ What’s wrong kiddo, did a character off that show you like die/”

“Uh no, ma do you think you can drop me off at the dance tomorrow? Dad said he has a late meeting and won’t be able to pick me up.”

Your mother makes eye contact with Tony. They both know how your father has been flaking on you and how it breaks your heart that he does. It makes Tony especially mad because it remind him of his childhood. How his father really didn’t pay attention to him unless he was criticizing  his life choices.

“ Hey y/n, I can drop you off if you want.” Tony offers, “ I really don’t mind.”

You smile, “Thanks T.” 

“No problem kid.”

And with that he pulls into the restaurant parking lot. 

As your family is seated, you take a quick look around the restaurant, wanting to see the reactions of the patrons when they realize Tony Stark is in the building. But as you do, you see a man who looks very familiar. But before you can take a closer look your mom interrupts you.

“Y/n, you know it's rude to stare.”

“Oh sorry mom.” 

So you take a seat and continue with your meal. You tune out your mother and Tony’s conversation as you can’t take your mind off of that man. You take a quick glance back while your parents discuss the dessert menu.

That’s when you realize that the man was your father!

You stand up from the table and make your way towards the man. Surprised to see him there because as far as you know, he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

“Daddy?” You ask cautiously. The man tenses up before turning to you.

“Y/n? Honey what are you doing here?” You notice he doesn’t make an attempt to get up and hug you. 

And you also notice the second plate of food across from him and a napkin stained with what looked like lipstick.

“Um, T and Ma wanted to grab dinner.. I thought you were at a meeting?”

“This is a five star restaurant, and you just stopped in?” He asks ignoring your question, “ Of course Stark did..”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Everytime your mother was even close to being happy, your dad always found something wrong with the person she was with. But he seemed to have a strong disliking towards Tony for some reason.

“Um right...So you told me you were in a meeting? That’s why I couldn’t come over after dress shopping?”

“Right! A meeting...I’m currently in right now.” He says quickly looking towards the women's bathroom, “ You should go back to your table hon, my boss is really strict”

“Oh right, sorry” You say dejected, “ I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” your dad says with a soft smile, “ I love you Bug.”

You smile at the nickname your parents gave you, “ I love you too pop.” 

And with that you walk off, back to your mother and Tony. You can see they’re trying to hide the fact that they were watching by covering their face with the dessert menus.

“Oh here you are, we got you a tiramisu” Tony says nonchalantly, pushing the dessert towards you.

“Uh huh” You hummed teasingly, “ Dad says hi by the way.” 

“ Oh does he now?” You mom said not convinced, “ That’s nice of him.”

You hummed, mouthful of cake signaling that you were done with the conversation. Your family finished up their meals and signaled for the check. As you were walking out the restaurant, you turned to say goodbye to your dad, only to see his “boss” was back from the restroom.

Only this boss was a 5′3, brunette bombshell in a tight red dress and having her neck kissed by the man you call your father. 

Your stomach felt sick.

“Oh gross, I really didn’t need to see that.” You mutter catching the attention of Tony who was behind you. 

“See what kid?” He asks following your gaze, “Oh. Yikes is that even allowed? I didn’t know your dad was a vampire.”

You snort, “ Oh god T, that's disgusting.” 

He just laughs and pats your head, “ Come on, lets go before your mom yells at us.”

You smile, but you wondered why your dad didn’t tell you that he was on a date. Or that he was even seeing someone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thoughts of your fathers secrets where wiped from your brain as you scrambled to get ready for the dance the next day.

Tony surprised you and your mom with a mani-pedi day at 10am and a hair appointment for you at 1pm. After you had to get shoes for your dress at the mall and then be home by 5pm to get your dress and makeup on, take pictures, and then be out the door by 7pm to take pictures with your dad, then finally be at the dance by 8pm when doors open. 

The whole day you were messaging your dad about how excited you are, getting similar replays back. He pays for you shoes and complements your hair. 

Your heart swells as you think about how hard it was in the beginning of the divorce. But your father always tried his best to spend time with you and made sure you knew he loved you.  

It was hard on you at first, but you appreciate that he tried for you. The fact that he’s been taking you to this dance since you were a little girl is proof enough. You were a little sentimental, this was your last dance after all. 

You smiled looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful in your dress. Your makeup was done to perfection and you had gotten a silk press in your hair. You felt like a princess.  You heard your mom sniffle.

“Mom, again?” You laugh,turning to face her.

“I’m sorry! You just look so beautiful!” she says with a sad smile, “ God, you grew up so fast bug” 

You roll your eyes, but feel the tears spring to your eyes as well, “ Ma! Stop I can’t ruin my make up” 

You both laugh as you fan your eyes

“You ready?” She asks, “ Tony’s waiting for you in the living room.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking out the door. You let your mom walk down the stairs first. You can hear Tony and you assume Happy in the living room. You finally make it down the stairs. It turns out it was Tony, Happy, and Peter Parker. Your mom was chatting with them and they all had their back turned to you. 

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, catching their attention.

You see Peter stiffen as he gazes at you and mutters a soft “Wow”

You blush, what can you say he’s a cutie.

 Happy gives you a comforting smile.

 And Tony?

He has a soft look on his face, “ Jeez kid, you clean up well.” 

You laugh, “ Better than you old man, what's up with the pants?”

He had on Iron Man pj pants.

“Oh hush.” He laughs, “ You look beautiful kiddo.” 

You look down with a grin.

“Oh pose for some pictures!” You mom says excitedly, “ Go Y/n, by your self first and then with me. Then with Tony.”

You sigh, knowing how long it was gonna take.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally after three million pictures, your mom and Tony drove you to the school.

“Okay bug, is your dad here?” Your mom asks looking around at the group. 

“Yeah! He should be inside.” You say kissing your mom goodbye and waving to Tony. You show the ticket and waltz in the gym. 

You smile and wave at classmates and parents. These people you’ve known since you were a child and who knew you. You finally got to the table you always sat at woth your dad. 

It was empty.

You frown and look at your phone.

Me

On my way pop!

It said the message was read.

“He must be on  driving” You think to yourself as you sat at the table.

But then twenty minutes passed. Then an hour. then two

You were still there, waiting for your dad to come. You sent five messages and they all remained unopened. 

You looked around the gym, seeing a few parents looking at you with pity in their eyes. You can barely stand it.

You got up and went to the restroom, trying not to cry. and in the restroom you tried calling you father, but you were sent to voicemail. The you finally got a message. 

Dad

“I’m so sorry bug, I can’t make it to the dance. I have a meeting today. :(”

You felt dejected. Humiliated. 

Your father has rearranged visitation days, skipped out on little crimonied and rectitals you’ve had, but this by far was the most disappointing thing he has done. 

He promised multiple times that he’d be here. Never has he ever skipped out on the dance before.  ANd he knew how important this was to you. Thi was your last dance, and he ruined it. 

You let yourself cry. You sobbed as you realized that your father has been distancing himself from you. That your relationship hasn’t been okay for a while. And you just didn’t want to let go.

You sigh as you realize you’ve been in the restroom for a while. You stand up and look at your face. Despite the red eyes and slightly red nose, your make up was pretty much intact.

“Huh at least my setting spray hasn’t let me down.” You say to your self. After a few mintues of calming down, you walk out of the restroom and bump into a figure. 

“Sorry” you mutter about to pass the person. 

“Gee you took a while in there, I told you not to get that coffee kid.” 

You quickly look up and se Tony.

Dressed in a suit, flowers in hand.

“Hey kid.” He says softly

“what..what are you doing here?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes again.

“Well apparently you need an rent a dad, and I happened to be in the neighborhood.” He jokes, then says, “ I’m sorry your dad didn’t come kiddo, and I know I’m not him, and quite frankly I’m glad I’m not. But I do love you like you’re my own, and well...yeah here I am.”

You stay quiet, looking at Tony in wonder. Touched that he did this for you.

“Of course if you just want to leave then we can just get out of here” He rambles nervously, “ But you gotta tell me kid cause I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Can we get ice cream after?” You ask him

“What?”

“After the dance, we should go get ice cream.” 

“Uh sure?” Tony says, “So what do you usually do at these things?” 

You laugh and steer him to the tables where they have all the activities at. You actually have more fun with him than you had recently wit your dad. Tony is definitely more competitive than your father and treats every game as a challenge. Not like something he’s humoring just for his kid. He celebrates with you instead of telling you to calm down. He chats with the adults, is nice to the kids, and does the goofy dances with you. Seeing Iron Man do the chicken dance is something you didn’t know you needed till now. He managed to turn this horrible night to one of the best ones you’ve had in quite a while. 

Finally the father daughter dance started to signal the end of the dance. Tony bowed dramatically and said in a horrible british accent, “ Lady Y/n?”

You laugh and make your way to the dance floor. You’re both quiet for a bit, snorting at how serious the other dads and their daughters look.

“Hey T?” You say softly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah kid?” 

“Thank you. It’s nice to know that one of my dad's isn’t a total asshole.” You say. knowing that this is the first time you referred to Tony as your dad.

His eyes get misty as he clears his throat,

“Anytime, bug”

#tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #tony is a step dad #step parents #fluff #tony is a good dad #reader insert #x reader #marvel x reader

[hoodharlow]

I'm Yours

AN: I know I haven't written for Cal snd Claudia in FOREVER and I apologize. Anyways hope y'all enjoy this 💕💕💕 the italicized is an exerpt from the Love Hypothesis shout to Mede for the rec 🥰🥰🥰

Requested? No

Warnings: mentions of bitchass Dean from Gilmore Gurls, fans that have no sense of blundaires, and SMUT aka a quickie turned to love making lmao

Word Count: 2.8k words

“You’re wearing that?” was the first thing that came out of Calum’s mouth when he saw Claudia in black high waisted booty shorts and a cropped long sleeve shirt. 

Claudia looked over her shoulder and took him in then turned away.

“You have some nerve when you’re wearing that uglyass trucker hat.” She commented. She placed her laptop in its case and looked over to him again. “At least it's not your Trumpie hat, so it’s somewhat of an improvement. Your arms look good though. I like how your skin looks.”

Ignoring Claudia’s comment about his favorite trucker hat, Calum turned to the mirrors of his closet doors and smiled at how his brown skin glowed against his pale pink top. The closet door opened and he watched Claudia slip and come out with his green flannel. Memories of their home movie flooded his brain and he felt his pants tighten. He watched her ass peek out of her shorts with every step she took and instantly regretted agreeing to go hang out with Michael and Luke instead of going to the bookstore with her. 

The few times he’s gone to a bookstore with Claudia he knew not to make any plans because  they were going to be there all day. Claudia would collect about fifteen books and plant herself on a couch and read the first few chapters then organize them in three piles: yes, no, and maybe. Then she’d read a few more chapters of the books in the maybe pile and repeat the process until she didn’t have any books in the maybe pile. When she was done picking her books she’d go return the books she didn’t want where she got them. After that she would spend another half hour in the bookmark station looking for a bookmark for each of the books she was going to buy. 

He pulled out his phone and texted them that he’s going to hang out with Claudia. Either way he wasn’t in the mood to be a spare tire since Luke was going to bring Gianna and he was sure that Michael was bringing his wife. Not to mention Calum was going to make sure no wannabe Joe Goldberg would approach Claudia. 

“If you’re leaving for Luke's right now, can you drop me off at the new bookstore that opened near where we get breakfast?” Claudia asked, adjusting the straps of her backpack. “I would go walking, but it’s way too hot.”

“Can I go with you?” He asked.

“Are you going to complain that I’m talking too long?”

“I’ll wait three hours before I start complaining.”

“Okay.”

Calum grabbed his backpack and shoved his things inside. He made sure Duke had enough water and food before going to the driveway where Claudia waited for him to unlock the car. He went to open her door and gave her ass a hard smack as he passed her. He rushed to his side before she got him back and started the car. 

The bookstore was a five minute drive from their neighborhood. When they arrived, Calum reached for Claudia's hand and led them inside. They went to an empty restaurant style booth in the cafe section. Claudia dropped off her things and wandered over to the books while Calum settled down to write. 

He journaled for a bit, occasionally looking up to check on Claudia. The smell of banana bread fresh out of the oven got Calum's attention. He got up and surveyed the food display. He ordered a slice of banana bread, a blueberry muffin for Claudia and some iced coffees. He paid with his card then slipped a twenty in the tip jar. Five minutes after the drinks were ready, Claudia returned to their table with a stack of books. 

"That was quick." He said, sipping his iced coffee. 

Claudia tore off a piece of the blueberry muffin and chewed. "I knew what I was gonna get. Now I just need to pay."

She reached for her backpack to get her wallet. She frowned and looked through the other pockets coming up empty. She dumped everything on the table and searched once more. 

"What's wrong?" Calum asked her.

"I can't find my wallet."

"I'm sure you left it at home. I was here the whole time so nobody could have taken it." He reassured her.

"Can I borrow your car to get it?"

"What? No," he pulled out his wallet and gave her his card, "here."

"No," Claudia pushed the card toward him. "It's like $200."

Calum gave her his signature 'do you know who I am' look whenever she tells him that something is too expensive. He got up and picked up the stack of books. He leaned them against his chest and used his forearm to make sure they didn't fall. 

"C'mon." He motioned her to follow him to the line.

Claudia pulled out her phone. "Fine let me just Ven–"

"No," He took her phone and placed it in his pocket. "You're going to let me buy you these books." 

"Cal…" 

"Do you know your boyfriend is doing what every reader wishes their partner would do? Just let him buy you the books." A woman said behind them.

Claudia crossed her arms. The lady was right. Who wouldn't want their significant other to buy them a lot of books. She still remembered when she first watched Gilmore Girls and Dean offered Rory to go to the bookstore with her and that's all she ever wanted. Granted, once she watched the rest of the series she knew that Jess was the better man because he was a writer and read the books Rory recommended. Not to mention Jess didn't cheat nor did he make Rory his mistress. 

Calum wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her to him, and kissed the top of her head. 

"If it makes you feel better then you can buy dinner." He told her, smoothing out her curls.

"Okay." Claudia turned around and kissed him. "Thank you for buying the books for me."

"Well it's my job as your boyfriend." He said, making her giggle.

It was finally their turn up at the register. Claudia stood back and grimaced when the register read $197.93 when the bookstore owner finished scanning her books. Calum tapped his card against the card reader without even glancing up at the register. He took the bag and thanked the worker. 

"Here you go." He said, handing her the bag. 

"Thank you." She said softly. "I love you."

"Hi Calum, I hope we're not bothering but can we take a picture." Someone asked behind them. There was a group of fans awkwardly standing by a table of cooking books.

Calum looks nicer to Claudia. She nodded letting him know it was okay for them to get pictures with him. 

"I'm going to be at our table." Claudia pointed behind her.

She tugged down her shorts and went to their table. She reached for the iced coffee with ‘OM + vanilla’ and carefully removed the straw from the paper wrapper and poked the paper straw into her drink before taking a long sip. She reached over for Calum’s iced coffee and took a sip. She gagged at the taste of almond milk and honey and slid the cup back to where it was. 

Calum walked up to their table and reached for his drink and took a long sip. He wore a deep scowl on his face. “Are you ready?” He asked her in an annoyed tone. 

She was confused at the sudden change in town, but she nodded. She watched him slam his laptop shut and angrily shove it in his backpack. She put on her backpack and grabbed the bag filled with books. She trailed behind him as they exited the bookstore. 

Claudia heard Calum curse loudly as paps were clicking away while they walked to his car. He shielded her and covered her with his body when she got in his car. She was thankful for that because the last thing she wants is her mom calling her that one of her tias messaged her on Whatsapp asking why Claudia’s ass was on display. 

Calum wordlessly started the car and pulled out of the parking space. He reached over for her thigh and gave her a gentle squeeze. The rest of the drive home his hand was on her thigh. He parked next to her car and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted to stay and read, but I just had to get out of there.” He said leaning back on his seat.

Claudia unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him. “What happened?” 

He ignored her and got out of the car. She sighed and got out too. She leaned against the door as Calum grabbed their things from the backseat. She took their things off his hands when she noticed how white his knuckles were from holding them. 

“Cal, what happened?” She asked again in a soft tone. 

Calum dropped his shoulders defeatedly. “Someone asked me out and basically requested that I fuck them in one of the bathroom at the shop.” 

“What the fuck!” 

“That’s what I said. I got pissed and told the rest of the group that I’m not taking any more pictures. They started protesting and apologizing for the other person, so I just walked away. I couldn’t deal with their shit.”

“Good! I can’t believe someone had the fucking audacity to say that to you to your face. That’s so disrespectful. You’re a person and you should be able to take pictures with your fans without them openly sexualizing you.” 

“There’s also the fact that I was out with you and they assumed I would cheat on you in a heartbeat.” 

“I didn’t even think about that…why are people so–ugh I can’t even think of a word. That’s how pissed I am.”

Calum reached for hand and intertwined his fingers. “Hey,” he nudged her. “It’s over and now we’re home where we can’t be bothered.” 

“Do you want me to change into cute lingerie so you can admire me?” Claudia asked him as they walked in. 

“Obviously.” 

***

Staying true to her word, Claudia changed into lingerie. Well she just took off her clothes and stayed in her black lace panties and covered herself with his flannel. But Calum still admired her. She laid on the couch with one leg over the backside of the couch while her other leg hung off the couch. He tried his best not to think about how easily he fit in between her legs. How her back would arch as she rubbed herself against his mouth as he sucked her clit. 

He palmed himself over his grey pants and grunted. He looked over to Claudia but she was too consumed with her book to even notice. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. Closing his eyes he imagined Claudia riding him with her back to him. How she would lean forward bracing herself as she bounced on him. When she would grow tired, she would lean her back against his chest and let him rub her clit. 

Another moan escaped his mouth as his hand sped up. From the corner of his eye he noticed Claudia cross her legs and squeeze them. It was her telltale sign that she was turned on and didn’t know how to relieve herself. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He teased her. 

Claudia set her book down, showing him her pert nipples. “I could ask you the same thing?” she nodded to his hand that was wrapped around his cock. 

“I got bored besides what are you even reading that has you so hot and bothered?” he asked her. 

“A book Mede recommended. It'scalled The Love Hypothesis. The guy reminds me of you actually. Like he fell in love with Olive during their first interaction, he waited years before making a move, defended her from his shitty friend and he gives good head.” She looked down to her book and skimmed a few more pages. She looked up and smirked, “Adam also has a big dick like you. Listen to this: “Can I fuck you?”

He said it, and then he kissed her, unconcerned with where his mouth had been just seconds earlier. She wondered if she should be put off by that, but she was still twitching with pleasure, contracting with aftershocks at the memory of what he’d just done. She couldn’t make herself care, and it was nice to kiss him like this. So nice.

“Mmm.” Her palms came up to cup his face, and she began to trace his cheekbones with her thumbs. They were red, and hot. “What?”

“Can I fuck you?” He sucked the base of her throat. “Please?” He breathed it against the shell of her ear, and—it wasn’t as though she could say no. Or wanted to. She nodded her permission and reached for his cock, but he beat her to it and pulled down his pants, closing his fist around it. He was big. Larger than she’d thought he’d be, than she’d thought anyone could be. She could still feel his heart pounding rapidly against her chest as he aligned himself to her and nudged the head against her opening and— hey!”

Calum had ripped the book off her hands and placed it face down on the coffee table. He climbed on top of her and leaned down to kiss her. He felt her arms wrapped around him as their kiss got intense. They moaned into their mouths, wanting more. He kneeled in front of her and pulled off his shirt. 

Claudia sat up and helped him with his pants before shedding hers off. She laid back on the couch waiting for him to get back on top of her. He tossed his pants next to his shirt and hovered over her. They resumed kissing. Giggles escaped their lips as they tried to maneuver their bodies on the couch. 

Giving up, Calum got up and went to the basket behind the couch to get a few blankets. He set the fluffiest one down on the rug. He went back to the couch and picked up Claudia bridal style. He gently laid her down on the blanket. He laid next to her on his side taking her in. He placed one of his hands on her stomach. Chills ran up and down her body as he deftly touched her, memorizing every bit of her as if it was the last time he would have her. 

Her soft whines filled the room. “I want you inside me, Cal.” she touched his cheek tenderly. “I need you inside me.”

Her hand made its way down his body. She wrapped her hand around his cock, slowly stroking him. 

His breath hitched at her touch. He knew that he wasn’t going to last if she continued jerking him off. He pulled her hand away and placed both of them around his arms. He was on top of her once more and captured her lips with his. He felt her arms pull him closer to her as they kissed. He guided himself against her entrance. In one swift movement he was inside her.

Claudia sighed in pleasure as he took her in slow, shallow strokes. She bent one of her thighs allowing Calum to get closer to her. Their lips found each other once more and they paused their moments, letting the other how they felt with their kisses. 

"I'm yours for as long as you want me, Claudia," he said, pulling away from her lips. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m yours, Claudia. You know that right” 

Tears rolled down her cheeks before she choked on a sob. “I know.” She barely managed to say. “I love you, Calum.”

“I love you.” He laughed softly. His eyes brimmed with tears. “I love you, Claudia.” 

***

Later in the evening Claudia posed with the book as she tried to get a good selfie. She sighed as she went over the pictures. None of the pictures were right for her post. She went to the kitchen and surrounded the book next to the sushi she ordered for dinner. She squealed excitedly remembering that there was a scene where Olive and Adam eat sushi. Granted, the sushi Claudia ordered was from a good restaurant and not an ‘all you can eat for $9.99’ restaurant. She snapped a few pictures and picked one where the lighting was just right. 

She leaned against the counter as she typed: thank you to @mede for recommending this book to me. I barely made it to chapter 16 before jumping my boyfriend. This book made me feel so many emotions, but most importantly it reminded me how much I appreciate my boyfriend :’)

Taglist: @in-superbloom​ @hoodhoran​ @aquarius-hood1996​  @suchalonelysunflower​ @f-mu​ @another-lonely-heart​ @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021   @calumscalm​ @karajaynetoday​ @cherryxwildflower​ @ashtonsunflower​  @idontneedanyone​ @findingliam-o​ @5-secondsofcolor​ @mulletcal​ @polycashton​ @fckingpernico​ @2fangirl4u​ @calpops​ 

Special guests: @nowherebound​ @wastelandcth​ @sensitivecth​ @holytit

#El Novio series #calum hood smut #calum hood blurb #calum hood one shot #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood oneshot #calum hood fluff #calum hood fan fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fan fiction #calum hood fanfic

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #second madame nie #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #what does the fox say

[biggest-stupidhead]

Oh awesome! Since I’m a sucker for flustered Levi I was wondering if I can ask for a story where Levi has a crush on the female!reader and he gives her gifts from time to time! Like a dress and he thought it would look nice on her. And usually he runs away immediately after giving her gifts. You can choose if they confess or not!

I was watching a movie and it made me wonder what If that was Levi?....lmao I couldn’t help it. Thank you~

-☁️

hello cloud anon :) this is very cute, I’m feeling sugar daddy Levi vibes. 

Summary: You’re the light of his life, and he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

Word Count: 1.1K

__

Levi had a real problem. He stared down at the sun dress in his hands, it was tiny and baby blue, the front was low cut and the straps where thin. The thought of you in it made his heat squeeze. He didn’t even look at the price tag, marching straight up to the cashier and checking out. Once he was finished he threw the bags into the back of his car, determined to ensure that you got the gift. He had been doing this for some time now, only a few months. Okay maybe a year...maybe a year and a half. He had a problem...and you were the root of it. He was too chicken to tell you how he felt, so he did the next best thing. Showered you with gifts, but he knew that it wasn’t working. He had seen the way that you had looked at Erwin the other day in the break room, the way you had playfully swatted his bicep after he made a shitty joke. But what made him really pissed was the fact that you were wearing the bracelet that he had bought for your birthday a few months back. Hell, you were wearing those prada heels that he’d bought as well. Had you forgotten? 

He fisted the bag in his grip as he marched up the steps to your apartment, he’d bagged the dress along with the pair of earrings that went a long with it, it was once again your birthday, this time you were turning 23, he’d bought plane tickets to Greece, hoping he’d have enough balls to ask you to join him. When he walked in he was greeted with the smell of food, all of your friends and associates from the office were present. Even eyebrows, who was sitting way too close to you on the couch as you drank a beer. Levi placed his gift along with the others before grabbing himself a drink and marching over to Hange. 

“Ah there you are...was wondering when you’d get here. So what’d you buy for your little sugar baby this year ya perv?” She teased, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. 

“A dress, pair of earrings and plane tickets to Greece.” 

“JESUS-” Levi slammed his hand over her mouth before she attracted too much attention. 

“Shut the fuck up or so help me I’ll-” 

“Greece?! Damn you’re really down bad Levi.” She giggled hysterically as Levi held her shaking shoulders.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Levi growled as he watched Hange gather herself once more. 

“Means that you realllyyyy wanna fuck her.” Hange explained, averting her gaze to where you sat, sipping your drink. 

“I most certainly-” 

“Don’t start being a liar now Levi.” Hange chided as Levi’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Let’s open gifts now!” Connie suggested as they all gathered around you, Levi took the seat to your left, shooting Erwin a challenging glare. 

“Save mine for later.” He whispered in your ear, hand on your shoulder. You nodded subtly, knowing that he was at least humble around your guests. As the afternoon wore on, your guests slowly took their leave, until it was just you and Levi. The two of you shuffled wordlessly around your apartment, cleaning up wrapping paper, paper plates, plastic cups. 

“I’m curious.” You said, picking up the bag that Levi had brought. 

“Then open it already.” Levi grunted as he dumped a handful of trash into the bin. You pulled the tissue paper off of the top and sat down heavily onto the couch, bouncing slightly as you did so. Levi swallowed thickly before padding over to sit next to you. 

“Levi...” You said slowly as you pulled the designer dress out of the bag, the earrings and tickets still in the bottom of the bag. 

“You know you don’t need to..” He looked away and blushed deeply. 

“I know, it’s just...you do so much for me and I feel like...I owe you this.” He settled on, hoping you didn’t think that he was a pervert. 

“Levi, just being with you is enough for me.” You said, swiveling to face him fully, hand reaching out and gripping his bicep, the bracelet he had bought for you jingling as you moved. 

“Oh Levi-” 

You laid the dress down across your lap as you dug into the bottom of the bag and pulled out the last two items. 

“You’re too good to me, really you shouldn’t do these things! It makes me feel...spoiled.” You chuckled as you admired the earrings. 

“That’s how I want you to feel. I got all this shitty money, and...this is the first time in my life that I’ve had money like this. And...this is how I want to spend it.” He said, cheeks beet red and head hung low. 

“Okay well, if that’s what you wish.” You sighed, clenching your fist around his jacket as you leaned in slowly, as if approaching a wild horse. Levi’s heart raced in his chest, this was the moment he’d been waiting for, ever since you came into his life two years ago, all the build up was finally amounting to something. You tilted you head to the side and blinked slowly, breath fanning over his lips as you waited for him to move away. But he remained frozen, body rigid with anticipation, finally you closed the gap and kissed him timidly. He sighed, the feeling of your mouth over his felt better than he could have ever imagined. He angled himself to grab your waist and haul you onto his lap, you grunted as you tried your best to accommodate with the new position. The sound of the bag and gifts falling to the ground was hardly registered by either of you as you straddled his lap, hands cradling his jaw as you deepened the kiss. Levi’s hands rested respectfully on your hips, his thumbs digging into the front of your hip bones. 

You pulled back, fingertips slipping into his locks as you looked down on him. He tilted his head back as you pulled lightly on his hair, smirking at how pliable he was underneath your grip. 

“Now...about that trip.” You mumbled as you leaned down to nibble at the freshly exposed skin of his throat. 

“We leave in two days.” Levi said, hands roaming up and down your back as he enjoyed the affection he was receiving. 

“Better go pack then.” You hummed, kissing your way back up to his jaw. 

“Might even need to go buy some new clothes....maybe even get a bikini?” Levi swallowed thickly and clenched his fist in the back of your shirt as you hovered over his face once more. 

“Anything you want baby.” He managed to breath out as you giggled and leaned down for another kiss. 

#Levi fanfiction #levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #Levi x You #levi aot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x reader insert #reader instert #sugar baby reader x sugar daddy levi #levi is ur sugar daddy #sugar daddy au #levi's love language is giving gifts and acts of service #giving gifts #acts of service #love langauges #anons welcome #cloud anon #requests are open

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 03

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]

notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime! 

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

Monday - 11:27am

Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨

[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!

[11:27am] Jisoo: ???

[11:28am] Lisa: go where?

[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!

[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet

[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao

[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??

[11:29am] You: nope

[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine

[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby

[11: 31am] You: 🙄

[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!

[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍

[11:38am] Taemin: tight

[11:39am] Jungkook: dope

[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄

Tuesday - 2:34pm

[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van

[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean

[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice

[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim

[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too

[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍

[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about

[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

Wednesday - 9:49pm

[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD

[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?

[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up

[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler

[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?

[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………�� i will buy some ice

[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there

[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍

[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing

[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍

[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom

///

The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.

“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”

“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”

“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.

He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”

You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.

The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.

“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.

“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.

“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”

Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”

It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.

“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”

“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.

“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”

You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”

“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”

“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”

He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.

“Ready?” he calls out the open window.

No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.

“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”

You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”

Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”

///

Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”

Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”

“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”

Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.

“Gee, you don’t say.”

He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. “Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.

“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.

Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”

“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”

“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Whaddaya want?”

“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”

On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”

That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”

“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”

“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”

“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”

You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”

“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”

He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”

“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”

And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.

“Rough morning?”

“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”

Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.

You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.

[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10

“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”

“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”

You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”

Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”

Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.

“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”

“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”

“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”

Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”

“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”

“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”

“Deal.”

///

Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.

Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.

“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.

You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”

“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.

“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.

Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”

“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”

“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”

You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.

///

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.

“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.

“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.

“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”

“Do not!”

Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.

“Fuck!”

You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.

“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”

The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.

Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.

“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.

“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. “You don’t want me to make dinner.”

Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it.”

Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.

Not that you’d been looking, of course.

“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”

“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”

The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”

“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”

He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.

“Tired?” you whisper.

“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”

Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.

///

“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.

“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”

“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”

Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”

“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.

“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”

“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”

Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”

“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.

The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.

It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.

///

You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.

Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.

In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.

As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.

“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.

“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”

“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”

Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”

Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”

You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”

He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”

“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.

It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”

Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”

“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”

“Quit ogling my sister!”

“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”

Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.

“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”

You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”

And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.

Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”

You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”

Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”

Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.

With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.

“Ready to go, Noona?”

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.

“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.

“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.

With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.

“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”

Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.

“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“

“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.

“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.

“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.

Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”

And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.

“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”

Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”

“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.

He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”

“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”

“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”

At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”

And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.

“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

///

What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.

Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.

By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.

“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.

Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”

“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”

“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”

“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”

You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”

“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”

Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”

You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.

It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.

“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.

“What should we do?”

“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”

“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”

By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”

“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”

“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”

“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”

“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”

“You love me!”

“Really? You wanna test that theory?”

The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.

[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497

You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.

But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.

[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers

You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.

But, you aren’t focused on that.

No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.

And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.

[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess

You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.

[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?

You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.

And then…

“Hey, princess.”

His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.

“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”

Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.

“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.

Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.

“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”

You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”

Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”

Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”

A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.

“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”

He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”

On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.

“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”

“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”

With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.

Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lia writes

[serpenteve]

is it just me who thinks that both versions of the darkling suck at manipulation? it's obvious that show Darkles was just not trying at all because he fell in love pretty much at first sight, but I don't think book Darkles was very good at it either? Alina never really becomes dependent on him at all, he very obviously did not set out to seduce her romantically (despite the retcon in R&R) and even seems to be avoiding her at points. Alina is never convinced at any point that he's into her beyond physically lol. I definitely do not believe book Darkles when he tried to say he wouldn't have collared her if she hadn't run away though - she was going to end up in it eventually no matter what. I think he did a good job of feeding her insecurity around her summoning but beyond that...I mean he couldn't even get her to be loyal to HIM let alone all the Grisha. What are your thoughts?

I don't know what was in the script, but Ben plays the Darkling like a lovesick puppy with TERRIBLE game because he hasn't been on a date in like 300 years ☠️

Like, the whole "darkles manipulated alina" narrative in the show is a fucking joke to me because all I see is fucking idiot who is genuinely like *shocked pikachu face* when Alina hates him for putting that collar on her like "whaaat? She doesn't like that I killed a magical deer for her and used it's antlers to gift her this awesome necklace that gives her a massive power boost??? Why is she yelling at me like that??"

Like, dude. Buy her dinner first 😂

The only time I feel like he actually manipulates her is when he implies they're going to destroy the Fold but then he's like "pfffft why would be destroy it when it's the greatest weapon we have" and she's like "YOU LIED!!" and then Ben has this truly hammy moment where he does this dramatic ass villain turn while his face is obscured by darkness but even then it's like "Yeah, she hates me now but she'll forgive me in t-minus 15 years and then the wedding is back on" 🤡

The story tries so hard to be like "he's pURe EviL!!1" and it's literally just darkles looking at Alina with literal TEARS in his eyes or even bothering to show so much genuine emotion when he doesn't even have to because Alina isn't even in the damn scene to witness it 😂

Like that time he was acting like a heartbroken 15 year old when he gets roasted by Kaz or stands on the other side of the door after Alina left and all you can do is point and laugh at this immortal dumbass like

So maybe there was *an attempt* by Show!Darkling to manipulate Alina at the start but that pretty much went out the window when she first started yelling at him and he immediately decided to plan their immortal married life together like a hopeless dork:

In conclusion: show!Darkling is a hopeless simp whose entire eViL pLaN got derailed because he caught feelings for an angry sunbeam 😌

As for book!Darkling, he at least didn't get his plan derailed until much later and unlike his show counterpart, actively HATED his crush on Alina? Like it was a massive fucking inconvenience to him and he'd be so embarrassed to see the absolute simping clownery that show!Darkling got into that he'd probably fake his death again.

But the other thing about the book is that book!Alina herself is so desperate for approval and a place to belong that she makes it very easy to manipulate and play on her emotions.

The reason book!Darkling comes across as more morally grey is because a lot of his actions always end up serving like two different purposes (one of them working in Alina's favour, and the other self-serving):

He deliberately keeps Mal's letters away from her to try and cut her connections to the past, but this actually ends up being a good thing because even Alina later admits that had he not sabotaged her communications with Mal, there's no way she would have learned to summon her power on her own (In the show, it comes across more like Darkles is low-key jealous that Alina has a strapping boyfriend and he probably cries himself to sleep reading their letters lmao)

He initially stands up to Alina getting railed on by Baghra when her summoning is weak because he doesn't really need her to be a good summoner if he can just strap a collar on her BUT this ends up helping Alina feel better about herself because he's like the only person who ever advocates for her or gently encourages her

He lies to her about destroying the Fold but his plan actually makes a lot more sense, especially looking at the complete clusterfuck Ravka became after the Fold got destroyed lmao 😂

You could argue his first kiss is pure calculation because he wanted Alina to be loyal to him with something other than duty or fear, but his second kiss at the Winter Fete was literally just him losing his cool and he even admits he doesn't want to give in to his "weak" puny mortal emotions, but this implies there is still some humanity left in him

Had Baghra not shown up to warn Alina, it's likely Alina would have worn the stag collar with 100% consent because she was looking forward to it, but she likely would not have consented to him using her powers to expand the Fold so when he says "that was never my intention" with regards to collaring Alina, I think he really means that it was never his intention to collar her without her consent but he decided he was gonna do it anyway once she ran off....however, I think he's being deliberately vague by leaving off the part where he planned on using her power to destroy a village lmao

So while I think book!Darkling definitely manipulates her because he's a man for whom the ends always justify the means, it still leaves me feeling kinda "meh" about the whole thing because had Alina been a more morally grey character herself, they could have literally just taken over the world???? the wasted potential 😭

#the darkling #darklina #viv answers #dorksander #why leigh why #this answer was a rambling mess pls ignore

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of my League [Part 5]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.1k

Summary: A night out with the team leaves you and Spencer with so much unsaid, despite how much he spills to you while you’re drunk and half asleep. 

Warning(s): Mentions of past addiction, alcohol consumption, some swear words, mentions of past bullying, EXTREME PINING

Author’s Note: I told yall this chapter wouldn’t take 10 years. just like... a week and a half. I promise I’ll do better lmao also enjoy the fluff cuz uh,, yall are gonna hate me next chapter oops

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Washington D.C., 2009

(Reader POV)

Rossi’s dinner party would not be the last time Spencer had to drive your drunk ass home. It happened two or three in the two years since that night. Dave meant it when he said you were one of them. Whenever they went out for drinks after a case, you would get a text from one of the girls asking if you wanted to come. Your mom living a few blocks away from you was helpful because you just needed to drop Jamie off and head over to O’Keefe’s. You very rarely went overboard because you normally had to drive home, but tonight was not one of those nights.

The team had just gotten back from a local case in Bethesda, so Emily offered to pick you up on her way back. Hotch gave them all the rest of the night off after they made the arrest, but Spencer, always the workaholic, still wanted to finish up his paperwork before going out. 

Your mom came to get Jamie and take him back to her house, so you were free to get all dressed up for a night on the town with your friends. You didn’t want to look too formal since most of them were still going to be in their work clothes, so you got out a cute green button-down blouse and tucked it into some high-waisted jeans. You put on your favorite locket and let your hair down. You went with a light makeup look, just brows, cheeks, and lashes. You were all set by the time Emily pulled up in front of your place. You strapped up your wedges and grabbed your purse, heading out the door, excited to see everyone after they’d been so busy.

“Hey! You look nice!”

“And you’re not so bad for fresh off a crime scene.”

“Should’ve seen me catch the guy, I looked amazing.”

“I’m sure you did, Em.”

Emily told you about the case, or rather just the ending. You only liked to hear her stories when they had happy endings. This one was pleasant enough, but you had a feeling that she was leaving some details out since it was apparently so bad that even Spencer would be tagging along for drinks.

When you got to the bar, Derek and Penelope were already sitting at a booth in the back with Aaron and Dave. Penelope hopped up from her seat to give you a hug as soon as you approached the table. 

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan smiled over his beer.

“Reid’s not driving tonight?” Aaron asked.

“He texted me, he’s on his way, he wanted to finish his paperwork back at the precinct.” 

“So what I’m hearing is you finally have time to tell us stories about Reid in high school,” Dave said with a smirk.

“No, come on, he’ll kill me,” you settled into the booth.

Emily snorted, “I’d be surprised if he even found it in him to be mad at you.”

“Oh, it’s happened before.” Your face scrunched up at the memory of what happened that day on the football field.

“Really?” Penelope seemed shocked.

“Yeah I’d… Rather not talk about it.” You didn’t know if Spencer had told the team about the Alexa Lisbon incident, so you didn’t want to talk about how he had been so angry with you for babying him. 

“Oh, come on, the kid was in love with you,” Derek prodded, “What’d you do?”

You elected to ignore his comment, “No, it was just stupid.” You could still talk about Kyle, though. The team knew the story of how you’d met Spencer, they just didn’t know about how upset he was when he found out you got back together with Kyle just a few months after you dumped him.

“We love hearing about the stupid things you did!” Garcia squealed.

You stared at the table and fiddled with a napkin to avoid eye contact as you said, “I dated one of his bullies.”

Dave was the first to break the silence, “But Reid said you broke up with him when you found out.”

You bit your lip and hesitated before owning up to it, “Did he tell you that Kyle is Jamie’s dad?”

Emily gasped, “No way!”

“We barely spoke outside of tutoring after that between him being scared of Kyle and basketball season. We were both busy with our teams.”

“Reid played basketball?” Aaron asked, amused.

“He was the coach.” You managed to crack a slight smile, “Budget cuts. But, hey, it was for the best, that was our best season in years.”

“Hard to believe he could focus on strategy with you cheering from the sidelines.” Derek wiggled his eyebrows and took another sip of his beer.

You were quick to change the subject, “So is JJ coming?”

Emily shook her head, “She went home after the case cuz she missed Henry.”

“Oh that boy is the sweetest little thing, I miss when Jamie was that little.”

Aaron sipped his whiskey, “How old is he again?”

“Ten. I’m old, don’t remind me, it’s fucking me up.”

“Ah! Language, bella.”

“Sorry Dave. But speaking of getting effed up, I’ll go get the next round.” You stood and took everyone���s drink orders: Dave and Aaron were sharing an expensive bottle that Dave had already paid for, Emily wanted a martini, Derek just asked for another beer, while Penelope ordered the most elaborate cocktail on the menu, but luckily it was her usual, so you had it pretty much memorized by now. 

You strolled up to the bar and gave the bartender the order, which he got right on. He started with giving you Derek’s beer, then Em’s martini, then your rum and coke, before getting to work on Penelope’s ridiculously fruity drink. An older man stalked into your field of view with a beer in his hand, grinning dumbly. 

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You snorted, “Has that line ever worked?”

“Truth be told, I’ve never used it.”

“Well you don’t have a great success rate right now, bud.” You looked over the man’s shoulder and made eye contact with Penelope, who turned to Derek and gave him a heads up.

“Well let me buy you a drink, maybe it’ll work better the second time around.”

“Oh, no, thank y—”

“No, come on, what’s one drink?”

You grabbed the tray with everyone’s drinks and started to pass him, “I should really get back to my friends.”

“Hey, I won’t keep you long,” He caught you by the arm and the last thing you saw before he turned you to face him again was Penelope leaping up from her seat to let Derek through, “what are you drinking?”

“Babygirl, how long does a beer take?” Derek stepped up behind you and placed a delicate hand on the small of your back, “This guy bothering you, doll?”

The man dropped his hand from your arm, “We were just talking.”

“Really? ‘Cuz to me it seems like you were trying to put the moves on my girl.”

“Babe, it’s fine,” you caught on quickly, placing a hand on Derek’s chest to keep up the ruse of holding him back, “I’m just waiting for Pen’s drink.”

“Get the hell out of here, man.” Derek glares and the other man leaves reluctantly. “You okay?”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem, sweetheart.” He withdrew his hand from the small of your back, “Wouldn’t want Pretty Boy to get jealous.”

You felt your face heat up as your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you can’t seriously tell me you don’t see it.”

You played dumb, “See what?”

He sips his beer, “You don’t need to be a profiler to see the way he looks at you, Y/N.”

“Oh, god, first my mother, now you too?”

“I’m serious, I’ve only seen him like this one other time.”

“When?”

“On a case a few years ago. There was this actress we were helping out, Lila Archer.”

“Lila Archer? The Lila Archer?”

“Yeah, she had a little crush on Reid for a bit. They made out once.”

“They what?”

He laughed, “What’re ya jealous?”

“No!” Maybe? “It just seems so unprofessional, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a guy who would--”

“Hook up with a movie star? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. It didn’t work out with them, obviously, he said she only felt that way about him because he saved her life.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Ever thought about how you protecting him his whole life may have had a similar effect?”

“Showing him basic human decency didn’t make him fall in love with me, Derek.”

“No, but saving his life did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that’s more of a question for Pretty Boy himself.” Derek nodded his chin over your shoulder. You followed his gaze and saw Spencer coming up behind you, grinning as he neared the bar.

“Hey.”

“Hey, haircut! Lookin’ good!” Your fingers laced through his shaggy locks and messed up his new boy band-esque style.

 A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he fixed his hair, “T-Thanks.”

“When you lovebirds feel like talking to the rest of us, I’ll be at the table with the rest of the team.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the lanky boy next to you, “Lemme buy you a drink, Spence.” 

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving. And also did you know--”

“You can just say you don’t want it.”

“No, I do. That’s the problem.”

Your face contorted with confusion until it suddenly clicked, “Oh… Has that ever been a problem for you before?”

“Not anymore, and not alcohol, but yeah.”

“Wait, Spence, why didn’t you tell me? I-I’m not mad, it’s your choice, obviously, but I could have helped.”

“You did.”

“I did?”

“Remember that one time I was too sick to talk on our Saturday call?”

“Yeah?”

“I had just gotten back from a case in New Orleans. Remember Ethan from school?”

You nodded, holding onto every word.

“He’s in a jazz band down there now. He talked me into getting help. When you called, I was at the lowest point of withdrawals, shaking so hard I couldn’t sleep, and completely alone. I almost didn’t pick up, but I knew you wouldn’t accept that,” he laughed nervously, “and when I heard your voice…”

He trailed off, finally meeting your eyes.

“When I said I wasn’t feeling well, you said ‘I’m putting Jamie down for the night, wanna hear his bedtime story?’”

You both found yourselves smiling slightly at the memory. 

“Not once, during any book I’ve read, had I fallen asleep so easily as I did when you read me The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

He took a deep breath, almost shuddering, “It was the first time I slept without nightmares since Tobias Hankle.”

You remembered that name. He’d come up in conversations from time to time but you never heard anything about his case. He was always a touchy subject for the team, and now you knew why.

“How long ago was this?”

“Almost three years ago.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

“Spence, you could have told me. You can tell me anything.”

“Anything?” He gulped.

You reached for his hand on the bar and felt it tense under your touch. You’d think after how long you’d known him his touch aversion wouldn’t be an issue with you anymore, but apparently not. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you withdrew your hand as if you burnt your hand on a hot stove and let out an awkward scoff, turning away to look back at your friends, who tried and failed miserably at making it look like they weren’t watching you and Spencer. 

“We should…”

“Yeah… w-we should.” Spencer passed you and sat down next to Derek in the booth, leaving you in your usual spot next to Emily with your first of many drinks that night.

            3 Hours Later

(Spencer’s POV)

I helped her into my car and buckled her up after she couldn’t find the seatbelt. When I got into the driver’s seat, I glanced at her to see if she was still conscious, only to see her dopey smile directed at me.

“What?” I laughed nervously.

“Nothing,” she slurred, dragging out the ‘ing’ and turning her head towards the window.

“You okay?”

She nodded and leaned her head against the glass as I pulled out of the parking lot. She was quiet for the most part during the drive, so I assumed she was asleep, so imagine my shock when she piped up as soon as I parked in front of her place.

“Can you walk me in?” she asked as if I could say no to her.

“Of course.” I was going to regardless. I helped her out of the car and she stood on wobbly legs. She groaned and looked at her feet. 

“Hold this.” She shoved her purse into my arms and placed a hand on my shoulder and hopped up to take off one of her heels, tossing it onto her seat before repeating her actions on her other shoe. She grabbed the pair and marched up the path to her front door. I trailed close behind, just in case she stumbled, which she did. 

She fumbled for her key when she suddenly remembered that I had her purse. I dug through the pockets and fished it out, tossing it to her once I got close enough. She instantly giggled as soon as I met her eyes.

“What’s so funny now?”

“Nothing, Spence,” she failed to stifle a smile as she tried to open the door, “You have nothing to worry about.”

I stepped in beside her, “Well you’ve been awfully quiet since we left and now you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m just thinking!”

“That can’t be good,” I joked, prompting her to lightly slap my arm, “Kidding! What are you thinking about?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“No, now I’m curious!”

“Just something stupid Derek said before you came tonight.”

“Oh jeez, now I have to know.” She climbed up the staircase and down the hallway in front of her bedroom. She twisted the knob and pushed open the door. I stepped in after her and placed her purse down on the dresser. She flopped down on the bed, shuffling under the covers, not even bothering to change out of the clothes she wore to the bar. I grinned down at her. She looked like an angel snuggled up in the sheets.

“Comfy?”

“Very.”

“Good. Call me if you need anything, Y/N,” I started to walk towards the door.

“Did you have a crush on me in high school?”

I paused.

“W-Where’d you get that from?” Nice job, genius, that doesn’t sound guilty at all.

“That’s what Derek said.” She was now sitting up in bed.

Okay, but how did he know that?

“How did this come up exactly?”

She explained how the team was trying to get her to tell them embarrassing stories about me as a kid (sidenote: not cool, guys) and my dear old friend Kyle came up. She said that Morgan brought up transference, where a person experiences something traumatic and associates their “hero” with safety and feelings of relief after being helped.

“He said one girl you helped in a case had feelings for you and the way you explained transference to Derek sounded like you were speaking from experience.”

Great. This is what I get for only having friends on the team. My best guy friend is also a profiler who can read me like a book. Awesome.

I let out a deep sigh and sat down in the chair next to her bed, “I was.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah. Because that’s where it all started for me. A pretty girl told off one of my bullies and showed me basic human decency--”

“Aw, Spence, you thought I was pretty?” She teased, eliciting a chuckle from me.

“Of course I did. Y/N, you were the head cheerleader that came to me for help with chemistry and tousled my hair and bought me McDonald’s whenever our study sessions ran late. To twelve-year-old Spencer you were this perfect, unattainable princess--”

“Princess?” She giggled and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, “I like that.”

“Yep.” I laughed with her, “A princess who lived in a beautiful castle with posters on the walls and sparkly beads on the curtains and Doctor Who playing on the TV and a mom that always invited me to stay for dinner and I’m rambling again but that’s perfectly fine with you because you actually cared about what I had to say, especially when I would talk about Shakespeare because A Midsummer Night’s Dream was your favorite assigned reading and--” I stopped myself before it slipped out. 

I love you. I’ve said it a million times to her in a million different ways but I knew at that moment that if I said the actual words that I wouldn’t be able to take them back, not that I would ever want to, I just want her to be present when I told her the first time. If I said it now it would be the first time she’d hear it from me and she wouldn’t even remember it when she woke up.

“And what?” She still smiled at me so brightly that the dimly lit room was lit up by the gleam in her eyes.

I smiled back, “You’re my best friend.”

Her grin somehow grew wider, her eyes scrunching up, but the sparkle was still there, “You’re my best friend too.”

If I hadn’t already decided against it, I would have said it then. I would have repeated those words over and over again until the words lost all meaning, only they never would because they felt like they meant the world to me. But I wouldn’t let myself start. Instead, I just looked at her like she was the moon and stars and all the space in between and said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Spence, wait,” she murmured, further burying herself in her covers.

“What now?” I whined, the smile still present on my face.

“I think you’re pretty too.” 

It had never been harder for me to resist the urge to kiss her than in that moment. Every fiber of my being screamed to sit back down, lean over her pillow, take her face in my hands, and crash my lips to hers. And for a split second, I thought I would. I almost did. I almost gave myself everything I had ever wanted for sixteen years, four months, and eleven days, but I couldn’t.

“And I think you’re drunk.”

“Spencer Reid!” She squealed, “Just cuz I’m drunk does not mean that you aren’t pretty!”

“Oh really?”

“Yep! ‘Cuz guess what, genius?”

“What?”

“I think you’re pretty when I’m sober, too.”

If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was trying to drive me insane. And you know what?

It was working.

While I was lost in my thoughts, no doubt staring at her, she let out a tiny yawn and snuggled deeper into her pillow. A piece of hair fell in front of her eyes, hooded yet still shining. I brushed the hair out of her face and told her to get some rest.

“Good idea. I’m sleepy,” she dragged out the e and yawned again, “Goodnight, Pretty Boy.”

“Goodnight, princess.” I chuckled softly. My fingers still lingered just behind her ear, so I stroked her hair once more and pressed a small kiss to her forehead once I was sure she was asleep. Her cheeks twitched in a barely conscious smile, making me grateful for my eidetic memory again. I went to the kitchen and took a glass from the cabinet, filling it up in the sink and placing it on the nightstand with some aspirin.

I took a sheet of some stationery and scrawled out a note for her in the morning:

Make sure you stay hydrated. There’s more aspirin in your cabinet but wait a few hours to take it. Call me if you need anything. -S.R.

            The Next Morning

(Reader’s POV)

The coffee machine made too much noise. Your head was pounding despite the fact you took an aspirin a few minutes ago. Now you played the waiting game, hoping it would kick in soon. When the pot was finally done, you poured yourself a cup, hoping it would help wake you up. You normally wouldn’t drink coffee this late, but you needed it. Just as you took your first sip, your mom came through the front door with Jamie in tow carrying his pajamas in a shopping bag. He said good morning to you and ran upstairs to his room.

“Did you just wake up?” 

“Yes.”

“Y/N, it’s almost noon.” You could hear the judgment in her voice.

You took a sip of coffee, “It’s 11:05.”

“I take it you had fun at O’Keefe’s last night?”

“Yeah,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“How’d you get home?”

“Spence drove me.”

Her eyes widened, excited. She lowered her voice to ask, “Is he still here?”

“Mom!” You whisper-yelled.

“I was just checking!”

“No, he’s not, he dropped me off and went home.” You decided to leave out the whole “putting you to bed” part.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Better with aspirin.”

“Have you been drinking water?”

“A little,” you lied.

“No more coffee until you finish a glass.” She took your mug and dumped its contents down the drain.

“Wh—” You start, “Mom, I’m not a kid.”

“Just drink your damn water.”

“Jesus,” you groan, still making your way to the stairs and heading up to your room, where your water had been put on your nightstand the night before. Under the glass was a note that you didn’t notice when you first woke up. You recognized the chicken scratch handwriting immediately: Spencer.

“Make sure you stay hydrated. There’s more aspirin in your cabinet but wait a few hours to take it. Call me if you need anything. -S.R.”

You smiled as you read the words over and over. You put the note down and took a sip from the glass. You reached over to your phone on the nightstand and dialed his number. It rang twice before Spencer’s voice crackled over the speaker, “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.”

“Of course. Did you drink the water I gave you last night?”

“Some of it.”

“Good, did you eat?”

“No.”

“I’m going on my lunch break in a bit, wanna meet up?”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a small grin tugging at your lips. You nodded, unable to find words enthusiastic enough to express how much you’d like that, before settling on “Yeah! Sounds good!”

“Perfect! There’s a new thai place downtown I’ve been meaning to check out, how about there?”

“Sure! I’ll meet you at Quantico?”

“See you then!”

“Bye,” you all but sighed into the receiver before snapping out of it. You always tried to keep that part of you beneath the surface, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. You didn’t remember much from last night, but you did remember calling him pretty boy and making him blush. You remember him tucking you in and calling you princess and brushing your hair out of your eyes. You remembered how your chest swelled with light as he pressed his lips to your forehead, and the soft chuckle he let out seeing you smile against your pillow. 

You hopped in the shower and got dressed, fixing yourself just enough to pass for a functioning adult who did not get sloppy drunk in front of her best friend’s coworkers last night. You told your mom you were going out for lunch, and she happily agreed to babysit for a few hours while you were with Spencer. 

“Have fun on your date!”

“Not a date!” You almost couldn’t tell who you were talking to, her or you.

You got to Quantico about a half-hour later and were met by Dave in the bullpen.

“Oh, look who’s joined the land of the living!”

“Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad last night. I could have been Penelope.”

“That is true, bella, but it was still a Thursday,” Dave chuckled, “The kid’s in Aaron’s office, he’ll be out in a sec.”

“Thank you,” you said and walked over to Spencer’s desk, sitting down in his chair and making small talk with Emily while you waited. A few minutes later, you saw him walk out of the office, eyes immediately landing on you.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @purelyprentiss @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez​ @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash @carlgrxmes​ @collectiveuniverses​ @annesauriol​

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #mgg fanfiction #mgg #cm imagine #cm fan fiction #CM #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds Reid #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds

[svtskneecaps]

play it again, part 14 ~ not alone

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(Seventeen University! Time Loop! AU) ; fluff + angst ; lee chan x reader

Every day is Friday, again and again. Time resets with the sunrise, leaving you stranded in a single day, over, and over, and over. Good thing you’re not alone.

send me an ask or a dm if you’d like to be on the tag list

thank u to tct for sending me memes when i asked them to and to casey @thepixelelf for the meme i settled on as chan’s contact picture. and for the other two pictures i saved to use later. made my life a whole lot easier, i love you

hey, i made the images for this one last night bc my tummy hurt and i was nervous!! also i had to split this one in half A G A I N goddamn we’ve increased the part count by like 6 at this point

anyway, the burn keeps getting slower and slower with each split so just so you know, the first REAL, OUTRIGHT ROMANTIC CODED MOMENT isn’t going to happen until LITERALLY PART 37. at least as it stands now, but i’m definitely going to have to split some parts in half. I’M JUST LETTING YOU KNOW. you can definitely read shit that happens before then as romantic but it’s not outright until PART 37. it just kinda happened that way.

this fic out of all my fics is really showing how bad romance confuses me bc i still haven’t figured out the difference between a really close platonic relationship and a romantic one, aside from like. kissing. and it’s also really showing how i honestly cannot bring myself to look at seventeen in a romantic light LMAO boyfriend shit has me CLOSING MY EYES, the closest i’d get is maybe sharing a downtown apartment with a member and buying dinosaur nuggets at 3 am in the middle of like, a movie marathon where we yell at the tv about thematic fuckery and shit like that, like romance is beyond me tbh i just want an Extremely Close Equally Dumb Friend.

why does that somehow feel as unattainable as becoming a millionaire.

anyway, this fic used to be 37 parts. it’s now 43. strap in.

tag list: @elcie-chxn @vibecheckvernon @minghaocouture @escapewriter @minghaoist @kwonthefics @monstathedisco @brinnalaine @hao-are-xu @wuriwoori @jeonjungkaka @unravellyn @happyvitamin @svt13roses @yellowsreflection @bat-shark-repellant @strawberryhime @pebbypenny @dnylwoo @nose-bandaid @minghaofilm @hwaatemydoor @mieohmy @serenadesvt @otchae @fabshua @seventeeneration @lowkeycarat

#caratwritersclub #seventeen #lee chan #dino #seventeen au #lee chan au #dino au #seventeen scenarios #lee chan scenario #dino scenario #lee chan imagines #dino imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #lee chan fluff #dino fluff #seventeen angst #lee chan angst #dino angst