#he's done it he's cracked the code

[bleaksqueak]

ooooh well it's not obvious he says like there is a single part of bursting open like a bloated melon oozing clots of petrol worms and eyes with teeth that is not obviously too horrifying to bear thinking about much less interacting with oooh nonono actually i have always longed to join with the terrors and dare i even hope birth a sentient sphincter of my very own a beautiful bouncing bundle of bile god just imagine the special day when the little gupper comes bursting out of my orifices which ones who knows i want to be surprised for its first screaming wet expulsion gosh isn't that just something that’s the real magic in this wondrous world i mean what girl doesn't dream about someday becoming a--

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[rowyndodendron]

It's amusing me no end that at a certain point Odysseus just: Vanishes from the narrative lmfao. Like we see him yeet/"not hear"/choose not to hear Diomedes yelling for him at the beginning of book 8 and then....

There are several sections later, including battle scenarios where Homer takes pains to list All The Usual Suspects (aka the other kings) eg Teucer's bow extravaganza against Hector, Agamemnon gives a speech from the prow of Odysseus's own ship, or Agamemnon redoing his "let us all go home!" bit except this time: it's not a bit, and the man is just Nowhere to be found!!!

Like sir there's a war going on here!!! Did you just nip out for a wee teabreak!?

Then he just comes sauntering back in the middle of book 9 10 minutes late carrying starbucks and going "so i heard there was a diplomacy happening?"

[irregularbillcipher]

i was gonna say “it’s a shame that we don’t see h th e rest of the pestos ever interact with zeke, considering how much jimmy junior adores him, and the fact he’s been shown hanging out at jimmy’s condo,” but the show barely has the pestos interact with each other so like ofc they don’t have them interact with zeke. i do think the twins would love him though, and zeke just loves everyone so much he probably loves the twins too. inviting them to hang out with him and jj when he’s over even when jj seems annoyed with them type of dynamic, he strikes me as the kinda kid who thinks having baby brothers would be so fun

[i-eat-homeless-people]

guys guys hear me out

pan mike wheeler

[teh-nos]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[claudethecrabdemoness]

Ok so I think I found a way to fix Vox LOLLOLOL. 

And by fix him, I mean make him much, much worse.

🔌 📺😝🎩⚡️

So I was drabbling in my head w Claude and Vox and they got to deep talking about their previous lives and regrets and all sorts of existential meanderings, when Vox surprised me by saying “I was a Christian, ya know. A good one. Never even missed a Sunday- come late night or hangover or hellwater. *chuckle* Fat lot of good it did me, right?”

And then I was like oh. OHHHH. 

He should’ve been a televangelist.��

So now this is canon as far as I’m concerned, and can even make perfect use of the little priest getup from his song number. After all, that is essentially what he’s doing with the V’s: amassing a hell-wide cult through the power of his broadcast monopoly. And explains why Claude had never heard of him before- he’s not your average kind of celebrity. 

I picture he got his start on local access TV, in the early 40s, just right after Al would’ve had his heyday with radio. He was an East Coast boy, no doubt, and mastered the quick-talking pander of the telecasters at the time. He often ran small broadcasts for local churches- fundraisers, telethons, what have you- and the Christian community ate up his All-American boyish charm. Especially the ladies. He married one who went to his church and really believed his words had the power to change lives, urged him to start his own televised worship, and boy did he thrive. They quickly became a household name, and he basically kick-started the whole televangelist movement into high gear. Like the bastard he is. Soon he gained a country-wide following and had money pouring in from the faithful by the buckets, and of course it all went straight to his head. Hence why it’s a TV now as punishment. That’s when he began exploiting his pulpit, believing himself a prophet, staying with his wife only to maintain their image, buying houses and toys and cars all with parishioner’s money, staying awake for days on cocaine and coming back down with barbiturates, the whole nine yards. 

It eventually caught up to him when his followers tried to commit a mass murder/suicide in his name, and a lengthy court appeal didn’t really smooth over their new reputation as a dangerous cult. Which is so unfair. It wasn’t like he told them to go all Old Testament, buuut… it’s not like his message was that far off from it either. Idiots. From then on, he started overworking, overthinking, and overdoing the whole thing right into the ground. His wife left him, he lost a ton of money in legal fees, and he had to hire protection now to keep up with the death threats from angry loved ones of his devotees. All the stress and resentment drove him into religious fanaticism, and his sermons just got more and more ego-driven and manic, asking for larger tithes and claiming it would be help him work the Lord’s magic even faster. He eventually was killed by a hit put out on him by an up and coming newer cult- ironically a spinoff of his original one- proving that he was very much mortal, but his faithful followers still believed he was a messiah of some kind. 

And that’s because- in his haze of drugs and self-destruction- he believed he was one too. He was sure that what he was doing was for all the Right Reasons, even if the methods were unorthodox. But hey- even Jesus flipped tables and rebelled against the Romans, so who’s to say his path is any less holy? He was SURE that he’d still be getting a ticket to Heaven, despite some minor setbacks…

So you can imagine his rage when he very much woke up in Hell. 

All his hard work, all his devotion, all his MONEY- for what?? Damned to live with a TV instead of his beautiful face and nothing to show for his decades of faith??

What the fUCK??

It was then that he realized God was the biggest scam of all and immediately renounced his faith, spending the first few years of demonhood sinning and drinking as much as possible. He had no idea how to cope with it all, and saw no point to trying, really. What good is having a TV head when you can barely stand the thought of using it- just a constant reminder of the empire you left crumbing behind you. 

And that’s when he met Alastor. 

Now here was someone else cursed by his favorite medium and a deer form that boasted anything but the predator he saw himself as- only this man was anything but deterred by it. The Radio Demon’s broadcasts may have terrorized everyone else in Hell, but they invigorated something deep inside Vox. Something he hasn’t felt since his first televised sermon… something like worship. 

He had to seek him out. 

This then ties in perfectly with his one-sided crush/obsession with Al, their doomed stint at friendship, and the impending rejection he receives at the end. AGAIN. First God, now Alastor…? You’d think that second blow would reduce him into an even greater depression than before, but instead, it flips a switch inside him. That’s when Vox decides ENOUGH. He’s done pandering, he’s done negotiating, he’s done elevating anyone else above himself. And why should he?? If anything HE should be the one on that pedestal, HE should be the only one to get credit for all HIS deeds…

HE should be God. 

And dammit, if he can’t join the original up in Heaven, why not try to become one down in Hell?

The rest is canon as we know it, but I just really realllllly love the idea of ex-Christian Vox, and all the disillusionment religious trauma can bring. He went straight from communion to capitalism, and I like that in my hell-bound guys. I will def be using this as his canon backstory for my AU with Claude, bc I needed to bring even more conflicted suffering and RSD to this character before I can truly ship them together hahaa. 

And…. despite what his real backstory actually is…. this is the only one I subscribe to now. 😈

ALSO:

TELL ME THIS ISN’T HIM!!??!??? HELP. CREEPY HANDSOME IS THE ONLY WAY TO GO FOR THIS CURSED TV MAN I HAVE DECLARED IT SO PLS ADJUST YOUR FANART ACCORDINGLY. 

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk I’m going to go rot in my hole now thinking of more hcs for this akskshagaga-

[poltergeist-coffee]

ive heard that mariana's been on minecraft smps before but he never did like serious lore? he just liked to hang out with his friend and build so i wonder what he would do if he was presented with this (code?) juanaflippa

[mechahero]

Yes! Get him!!

[atenceladusiaawfytbwb]

HE IS A FLORIDA CRACKHEAD MAN FIRST AND FOREMOST 🗣🗣🗣🗣

just want to remind some writers that bob is a fully grown man with a conscience and a former drug addiction. he is not a child and some of y’all should stop infantilising him.

… that’s all.

[jj-one]

STUDY HARD, GET EDGED HARDER!

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung’s trying to finish this code, but the minute you sat on his lap, he knew the only thing getting finished today was him.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut with very little plot, semi-public s*x, sub!jisung, he whines and begs a lot (how i like my men tbh), thigh riding, overstim, light degradation, handjob, orgasm denial, oral (m. receiving), cum eating words: 5.2k

[ note. ] — another jisung fic, are we surprised ?? (no.) it’s the way this was supposed to be under 2-3k but clearly i’m incapable of writing anything short sooo..

He checked his phone sixteen times within the past hour. At first, Jisung told himself it was fine, you were in class, you needed to focus, you were probably taking notes or doodling a series of hearts in the margins of your planner like you always did. But now it was 2:34 pm and he was one ‘are you mad at me?’ text away from losing his goddamn mind.

Usually, you’d text him the second class was over. A little “miss you” here, a blurry selfie there, a not-so-subtle thirst trap when he least expected it, something to let him know you were thinking about him. But today? Nothing. Not since that teasing message you sent earlier at 11:47 am:

you left a hickey above my bra strap, you menace ;(

i’m wearing a tank top. if anyone asks i’m blaming it on a curling iron burn.

That had launched him into a full-body crisis in the middle of Comp Sci lecture. Now he was half-hard, suffering from sleep deprivation, and trying to tackle three weeks’ worth of broken functions with his already fried brain— while simultaneously spiraling over why you hadn’t texted him again yet.

Which brings us to his current dilemma.

The library’s unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon, except for the faint rustles of pages turning and the occasional exasperated sighs from stressed out students spread throughout the space.

Jisung sat tucked into the farthest corner, wearing a slightly oversized hoodie with the sleeves bunched up to his elbows, staring blankly at the same lines of code on his laptop. He’d been stuck in the same recursive function that kept crashing his entire program— something about an ‘undefined base case’, but he couldn’t focus long enough to fix it. The error messages meant nothing when all he could think about was the flash of your thighs in that skirt you’d been wearing this morning.

And across from him, not helping even a little, was Jeongin, who was currently detailing the world’s most cursed porn plot with way too much enthusiasm.

“So then the girl just spits on it like it’s no big deal and starts- bro, are you even listening?”

Jisung snaps out of his trance, looking up too fast. “Huh?”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “knew you weren’t listening.”

“I was,” he lied, voice slightly cracking, and it only made Jeongin raise an eyebrow and gesture pointedly toward his friend’s phone, which lit up for the third time in under a minute.

Jisung snatched it up before even checking the name, heart already doing backflips.

sungie, where are youuu

i’m done with class and i’m boredd, wanna see you

He was now internally screaming. If Jeongin wasn’t here right now he’d be kicking his feet and giggling like a school girl right now. But instead he tries to keep his composure, though he’s failing miserably.

He swallows thickly, ears immediately turning red as he reads your message over and over. Recollections from last night were now running through his head, the mental image of your body under his, breathy moans in his ear, the feeling of your lips on his neck— it was burned into his memory forever.

Jisung’s brain short-circuited. His heart launched itself straight into his throat. And his dick? Yeah, it had ideas..

Jeongin tilts his head, catching the panicked expression on Jisung’s face. “Dude,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Just go meet up with her already. You’re useless like this.”

���I’m not useless,” Jisung said defensively, even as his fingers fumbled to type out a reply with hands that were very much trembling. “I’m trying to debug this stupid loop!”

“You’re trying to not bust a nut thinking about her,” Jeongin deadpanned. “You’ve copy-pasted the same broken function like six times in ten minutes. I’m still confused how you even managed to bag the hottest girl on campus.”

“I didn’t bag her,” Jisung mumbled, his face growing hot once again. “She… likes me.”

“No shit she likes you. She owns you.” Jeongin pointed at the now purplish-red bruise on Jisung’s neck. “That’s a leash, not a love bite.”

“Stop talking, I’m trying to finish this code.”

Jeongin leaned across the table, squinting at his screen. “You haven’t written a single working line in the past thirty minutes. The cursor’s been blinking in the same empty function this whole time. You typed ‘y/n’ in the comment section of your code, and then drew a dick in ASCII next to it. You know damn well you’re not debugging anything except your feelings.”

Jisung groaned loudly as he slumps forward, his forehead hitting the keyboard with a soft ‘thud’. “She just- she’s distracting, okay?”

“She’s not even here right now.”

“She lives rent free in my head.”

“You pay her rent,” Jeongin quickly corrected, “with your dignity.”

Jisung barely had time to fire back before his phone buzzed again. His posture instantly straightens, reaching for his phone like it contained the meaning of life.

so why haven’t you kissed me today? why do you hate me?

He wheezed. “She thinks I hate her—!”

“You’re literally wearing the hoodie she gave you,” Jeongin cuts in dryly. “You made her a playlist last night called ‘songs that remind me of her moaning.’ She’s obviously fucking with you, bro.”

Jisung was only half-listening, already typing like his life depended on it.

i’m in the library, baby. i thought u had another class??

also i don’t hate u i’m OBSESSED w u

Your reply came not even a minute later.

mhm. obsessed? prove it. where exactly in the library are u?

He froze, looking up like a deer caught in headlights.

Jeongin didn’t even flinch. “Don’t panic,” he responds flatly, reaching for a pretzel stick. “Just give her your location and accept your fate.”

Jisung completely ignores him, fingers moving fast, typing out a rushed response that was borderline devotional.

back left corner by the windows. alone. i mean, with jeongin. but like mostly alone.

u coming?

depends.. are you gonna leave me another hickey this time or nah?

He slammed his forehead against the table.

“You good?” Jeongin asked casually, chewing on his pretzel like his friend wasn’t in the middle of a full-blown mental breakdown.

“No,” Jisung mumbled into the wood. “I’m gonna die right here. On this table. Tell my computer I love her.”

“Death by horny girlfriend.” Jeongin chuckled, “you’d be the third one this semester.”

Jisung turned his face, still smushed against the table, eyes glazed with academic doom. “I’m so gonna fail this exam..”

“You’re gonna fail life if she sits on your lap again and you cream your pants in front of me.”

Jisung glared. “I didn’t cream my pants last time.”

“You moaned when she kissed your jaw, bro. Out loud. In public..”

“It was a low moan.”

“A moan is a moan, my guy.”

Before Jisung could argue back, he receives yet another message.

look up, dummy.

His entire body went rigid, hands hovering midair, pupils dilating like a cat spotting a nearby predator.

“Bro?” Jeongin asked, watching the color drain from his face.

“She’s here,” Jisung whispered. “Oh my god, she’s actually here.”

And just like that, his palms were sweating. His heart beating abnormally fast as if a bomb was about to go off in his chest. He knew what was to came next. You were going to strut over here in something tiny, say something filthy, and sit in his lap like you owned both the chair and the man in it.

Jeongin turned just in time to see you coming.

“Oh nope. Nope.” He grabbed his stuff immediately, like a man narrowly avoiding trauma. “I’m not third-wheeling this lap dance sequel. I’ll be in the café. If I’m not back in an hour, it’s because I died of secondhand embarrassment.”

Jisung was still trying to stammer out something when Jeongin patted him on the shoulder with mock sympathy and left him for dead.

You were in a tiny black pleated skirt that flared when you walked, paired with a white, paper-thin tank, barely clinging to your frame. The outline of your lace bralette clearly visible beneath it under the warm library lighting. Your lips were glossy— glistening with that pink shimmer you knew drove him crazy, a hint of eyeliner, and that signature flirty sparkle in your eye made Jisung forget his own name, and why he ever thought he could handle you.

His mouth slightly parted as you spotted him and waved with a little grin that caused him to hold his breath. Every guy in the vicinity turned to look. Of course they did. You looked like you’d walked straight off the cover of a playboy magazine.

Except you weren’t paying attention to anyone else, walking straight towards him— past the tables, past all the stares, and before he could even think to slide over and offer the empty seat next to him, you climbed right onto his lap like you belonged there.

You casually slung your arm over his shoulders, settling against him like it was a normal day and you’d done it a hundred times before. Your thighs framed his, the sweet scent of your perfume clouding his senses while the softness of your chest against his front made him see static.

“Hi, baby,” you leaned it, trailing your fingers along the edge of his jaw. “You looked like you were missing me.”

“I-I uh-” He blinked rapidly, trying to process literally anything. “You’re- you-”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how much of a nervous wreck he was, but kept teasing him anyway. “Use your words, handsome.”

“You’re wearing that.”

You raised a brow, wide-eyed, feigning innocence. “This?”

Shifting slightly on his lap to get more comfy, your hips tilted just enough for your warmth to press more directly against the growing tent in his jeans. His soul left his body once again.

“I was gonna sit in the chair,” you said, glancing lazily at the empty seat beside him, “but you looked so cute and lonely over here. So serious. So tense.”

“I am tense,” he squeaked.

“You wanna know why?” he added quickly. “Because you’re literally sitting on me in the middle of a public—”

Your fingers slid into his hair, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck. “You don’t want me to sit here anymore?”

Jisung’s hands flew to your waist without realizing, fingers splayed against the thin material of your top like he was trying to will himself into self-control. “No- I mean, yes- I mean- I love when you sit here.. but—”

“But?” You echoed sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“People are looking,” he hissed through clenched teeth, heat blooming all the way to his ears. “Everyone’s looking. I-I can feel my GPA dropping just from this. My professor probably sensed it through the air.”

You didn’t seem fazed at all by his comments, letting your nose brush his cheek. “Let them look. You’re my boyfriend. I wanna show off what’s mine.”

He whimpered— actually whimpered. In the middle of the damn library.

You were just smiling, completely calm, perfectly poised, one hand lazily tracing the edge of his hoodie while your weight shifted subtly again, your thigh dragging ever so gently across his cock, already painfully hard beneath you.

You weren’t even grinding that hard.

You didn’t have to.

Because his sanity’s already slowly unraveling.

“Y/n…” he whispered, barely coherent. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I barely did anything yet.”

“That’s the problem..”

You looked down at him, lips curved into something wicked. “You’re such a dork.”

He huffed, letting his head fall back against the seat.

“But you’re my dork,” you added, embedding a kiss to his cheek and then his temple. “My cute, squirmy, overstimulated little dork.”

“I’m not overstimulated.”

“You’re rock hard.”

“I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

You cackled. Loud enough for a student at the next table over to side-eye you, which you promptly ignored.

Jisung, meanwhile, tried to slowly roll his hips under you, praying to all gods that no one could tell how close he was to combusting. Your thighs were so soft. Warm. You smelled like vanilla and something sinfully feminine. The way you sat on him like nothing was happening, like your soaked panties weren’t dragging back and forth over the flexed muscle of his thigh— made his whole body lock up.

“If you’re this worked up now…” you murmured, voice sultry and featherlight, “…how are you gonna survive when I ride you later?”

His eyes rolled back.

A shaky breath punched from his chest. He choked on it, hands gripping your waist even tighter as his legs jerked beneath the table.

You pulled back just slightly to watch him come undone with a satisfied little smirk. “Color’s back in your cheeks. Must be working.”

“I’m begging you,” he croaked, “please just let me finish this. I need to pass this class.”

You thread your fingers up into his hair again, tugging gently at his roots. “Mm. If you get an A, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Desk. Mirror. Kitchen table. You name it.”

Jisung whimpered again.

Someone coughed in the next aisle. You didn’t care.

He tried to keep his cool. He really did. But when your lips would brush up against his ear, and your fingers slipped just slightly beneath his hoodie to rest on his bare skin, he knew he was beyond the point of no return.

You stayed perched on his lap, the model of calm— like you had no idea what you were doing to him. Like his cock wasn’t straining in his jeans so hard he thought he might pass out. His jaw was tight, lips bitten red, and his entire body’s trembling with effort.

The worst part of it all was how deliberately slow your hips circled over his thigh. It was so subtle. Calculated. The tiniest roll forward, just enough to let your clothed core drag across the curve of his thigh. Not bouncing. Not humping. Just that slow, lazy grind of slick heat over denim— completely hidden from view beneath the table.

“Shhh,” you muttered, completely unaffected. “Thought you wanted to finish your code?”

He was trying to finish this script. He really was. But the lines of code on his screen were blurring together, his glasses fogged-up and slipping down his nose. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, stifling a noise he didn’t even recognize.

“I-” he gasped, the only thing anchoring him being the white-knuckle grip he had on the edge of his laptop. “I can’t think like this-”

“Like what?” You asked, lips brushing his jaw as your hips picked up it’s pace. “Like your girlfriend’s grinding her needy little cunt on your leg while you’re trying to finish your sad excuse of a Python script?”

He bucks into you helplessly. His cock throbbing in utter desperation. His jeans were already soaked. You were soaked. The cotton clinging between your folds as warmth spread across your thighs like wildfire. His thigh pressed perfectly against your cunt with every slow grind, grazing over the sensitive bud just right.

Jisung clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering shut. He could feel it. The outline of you. The mess you were making on him. The sharp, desperate ache in his cock that had him this close to snapping. The denim of his jeans felt tight, unbearably tight, and every shift of your hips sent him teetering over the edge.

“H-holy shit, y/n…” Jisung’s voice cracks, sharp and frayed. “You’re so wet. I can feel it through- fuck- through everything.”

“Mmh?” You hum softly, “what was that, baby? Speak up.”

“You know what,” he whined. His thigh twitched again, and you seized the opportunity to grind harder, dragging your soaked center over the thick muscle.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he hissed, looking around uncomfortably. “You’re seriously gonna.. I can’t, baby—”

“No one’s looking,” you interrupted calmly, your hot breath fanning over his neck, fingers curling into the back of his hair like a gentle command. “Unless you make them look. Unless you start moaning like a little slut who can’t control himself while his girlfriend gets off on his leg.”

“I’m not-” He swallowed, but his voice was weak. Broken. “I’m not a slut.”

“No?” You mocked, your voice all honey and knives. “Then why’re you twitching every time I say something filthy? Why are you leaking through your boxers when I haven’t even touched your cock?”

He let out another pitiful sound.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything, just let me cum, please. I can’t- fuck- I can’t take it anymore.”

The way he looked up at you, all teary-eyed and trembling, it sending a rush of heat pooling to your core. His cheeks were flushed a baby pink, lips slightly parted, chest heaving like he’d just run five miles. Your good boy— smart, nerdy, sweet Jisung— reduced to a desperate, needy mess just from the way you were riding his thigh in public like it was your seat.

“You’d do anything for me?” You asked, rolling your hips again, slowly, letting your clit drag perfectly over the seam of his jeans.

His hands spasmed on your legs.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, please. I’d do anything- I’ll get on my knees right now, I’ll eat you out under this table if you let me. I’ll fucking worship you, y/n, just pleaseplease let me cum—”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “You sound so pathetic,” you scoffed. “So needy. And all I did was sit on you.”

He nodded frantically, his breathing ragged.

“I am pathetic. I know I am. I can’t help it, ’m so obsessed with you. I think about you all the time. I jerk off thinking about you sitting on my face. I came in my hand the other night just imagining you calling me your good boy.”

You clenched at that.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed. “You’re so fucked up.”

You spread your knees a little more over his leg so you could rock harder, now deliberately dragging your wet pussy over the wet patch of denim he’d soaked through. Tensing up as he fought not to move, to grind up into you like he wanted.

His breath came in short, silent bursts now. Chest rising and falling beneath you, lips parted, sweat beading at his brow.

“Y/n…” he breathed, trying so hard to sound composed, but nearly sobbing from how fucking good it felt.

“What is it, baby?” You bat your lashes at him, hips rocking forward again. “You’re not gonna cum in your jeans, are you?”

His entire body shivered.

“I-I will,” he stuttered. “I swear, if you don’t stop.. mmph, ‘m already so close, you’re- your pussy’s so wet—”

You leaned in slowly, lips grazing over the shell of his ear. “If you cum now…”

He gasped, throat catching on the first syllable.

“…you’re not fucking me later.”

His breathing stopped.

You pulled back just enough to see the panic settle in his eyes.

“You hear me, Ji? If you cum in your pants like a desperate little virgin, I’m walking out of here and locking my legs until next week.”

“I want you to feel how wet I am for you,” you whispered. “I want your thigh soaked. I want your cock leaking. But you don’t get to cum unless I say so.”

Jisung was panting now. He was actually trembling— not shaking, not twitching— trembling, like he was barely surviving.

“Y/nnn,” he whined. “This isn’t fair.. ’m not gonna make it.”

“You will,” you said, rolling your hips harder, dragging the mess between your thighs across the thick ridge of his leg again. “You will because you want to fuck me. You wanna cum inside me, don’t you?”

He groaned, mouth agape, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.

“Yes,” he pleaded. “God.. yes.”

You rewarded him with one more slow grind, your drenched panties catching perfectly on your clit— and it took everything in him not to buck up or spill into his boxers right then and there.

He almost disobeyed. Almost gave in. But somehow by some miracle of sheer desperation and willpower, he held back. Barely. Just barely.

You could feel him clenching under you. His cock twitching behind the zipper, leaking so much precum he’d made a dark patch on his jeans, mixing with the slick you’d left behind.

“You’re so good for me,” you praised, pressing light kisses against his jaw. “Sitting still, letting me use you. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he strained. “I can’t take it anymore, please—”

You smiled against his skin, kissed him again, then pulled back.

“Then come with me.”

His eyes widened. “W-What?”

You stood up, skirt fluttering down your thighs, straightening your tank top like you weren’t dripping down his leg seconds ago.

“Archives section.” You whispered, voice honeyed and commanding.

And just like that, Jisung— flushed, throbbing, soaked, and desperately blue-balled, let you pull him through the rows of books, already dizzy with the promise of what’s to come next.

+

Jisung’s wrist was still pulsing with warmth from where you grabbed him, dragging him down two flights of stairs with no explanation and zero resistance. He followed like a lost puppy, notebook half-open, backpack swinging awkwardly behind him as you led him past the “ARCHIVES ONLY” sign and into a forgotten aisle of books no one under 65 had ever touched.

The hallway past the microfilm cabinets was barely lit, tucked behind a wall of outdated journals and abandoned thesis papers. No one ever came back here. The security camera hadn’t worked in months and you knew that because you checked the first week you started fooling around with Jisung in public. It was the perfect spot for what you had in mind.

His hoodie was crooked. His hair was a mess. His jeans were stained — not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but you saw the evidence of your slick and his precum smeared across the thigh you’d just used like your personal toy minutes ago.

His eyes were blown wide. Glazed. Wild with the kind of desperate frustration that came from being edged and denied so thoroughly he could barely think. Your skirt was still slightly rumpled and your lip gloss a little smeared like you planned it. You looked wrecked in the prettiest way and he couldn’t stop staring.

You gently pushed him up against the bookshelf, meeting the cold tiles as you dropped to your knees, looking up at him with the sweetest, filthiest smile he’d ever seen.

“W-What are you doing?” He blinked like rapid fire, turning into an even blushier mess. “Wait- wait, are you—?”

Without a word, you reached down and pulled his jeans further open, just enough to free his cock. It sprang up against his stomach— angry red at the tip, twitching, wet with a fresh bead of precum leaking from the slit.

“Ohh, Ji,” you cooed, brushing your thumb across the tip, smearing the slick mess down his shaft. “You really are about to cum, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” he choked, breath hitching as his needy hips jerked into your hand. “Please touch me, ‘m so fucking close—”

“I am touching you,” you teased, wrapping your fingers around him slowly, deliberately. “What, not good enough?”

He let out a ragged moan, head thunking back against the wall.

Your grip tightened just enough. Your fist started moving slowly, not enough to bring him over, but enough to torment him. Just enough to keep him right there, on the edge, nerves strung taut like piano wire.

“F-Fuck, that’s—” he gasped, hips stuttering. “That’s so good.. please, faster. Baby, please—”

You smiled while looking up at him. “You begging already?”

He whined, high-pitched and wrecked, his hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them, like if he touched you, he’d explode.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispered. “Just let me cum- I’ll eat you out for hours, I swear- please y/n—”

You tightened your grip and gave a long, twisting stroke that made his whole body jerk.

“Mm-mm,” you hummed. “Didn’t I say you don’t get to cum unless I say so?”

His hips bucked wildly into your fist. “I’m trying,” he moaned. “I’m trying so hard, but it feels so fucking good- your hand feels so good..”

“Yeah?” You whispered, pumping him harder, “my hand feels good? Poor baby. Can’t even handle a handjob without crying.”

“I’m not crying—”

You glanced back up.

His eyes were glassy. His lashes were damp. And his cock was throbbing so hard in your fist it looked painful.

“You are,” you murmured. “You’re crying ‘cause you want my mouth, huh?”

He whined like a kicked puppy.

You grinned.

“You want me to suck you off so bad you’d get on your knees and beg, wouldn’t you?”

He nods frantically, gasping for air. “Yes, yes. I would- I’d do anything- please, y/n, I need it. Need your mouth, wan’ it so bad—”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle, twisting your wrist mid-stroke just to make him squirm. “So fucked out and needy over something you haven’t even felt yet.”

“I’ve imagined it,” he blurted. “I’ve thought about it so many times- your lips, your tongue, I touch myself to it- fuck, ‘m gonna cum—”

Your hand stops immediately.

He let out a strangled, broken moan, the kind that came from the soul. As his cock throbbed helplessly in your hand, right on the edge, aching for release.

“Don’t you dare cum,” you hissed. “Not unless you want me to walk away.”

He whimpered. You watched the muscles in his abdomen tighten, his thighs shaking as he fought it— struggled against his own body, literally holding back an orgasm with every last shred of willpower he had left.

His eyes fluttered open again, desperate, ruined.

“You did good, baby,” you whispered. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

You let go of his cock and pulled your hand away, sticky, soaked in his precum, still warm with the weight of him.

He sobbed— a tiny, wrecked sound that made your thighs clench.

You hadn’t even taken him in your mouth yet, and Jisung was already about to cry.

The flush on his cheeks crept down his throat, his hands struggled to stay put, not knowing what to do with them. His cock was hard. So hard. Red and slick and visibly throbbing as you pumped it slowly in your hand. Every now and then, his hips jerked subconsciously, helpless, like his body was trying to chase something even his mind couldn’t form words for.

You looked at him from between his thighs, chin tilted, lips parted just enough to tease.

“Still with me, baby?”

He nodded a little too fast. “Y-Yeah. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”

You smiled. “You’re doing so good.”

And then you slowly licked a stripe from base to tip, watching his entire body flinch.

“Nngh,” his mouth flew open, head tipping back to hit the shelf behind him. “Oh my god.”

“Not yet,” you remind, letting your tongue flick beneath the head, collecting every drop of precum you’d pulled out of him. “But you can pray if it helps.”

He let out a strangled laugh, cut off halfway by a moan as your lips finally wrapped around the tip and sucked— lightly, just enough to watch his knees buckle.

That’s when you gave him what he really wanted.

You slid up and down, slowly, letting him feel every inch and crevice of your mouth, your tongue pressed firm against the underside of his cock, and didn’t stop until you had him nearly down your throat.

You look up through your lashes, gaze dropping to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

His eyes were already rolling back when yours locked with his. The second he realized you were watching him— deepthroating him while holding eye contact, he let out the filthiest, most guttural groan you’d ever heard come out of him.

“Y-y/n fuck- fuck, your eyes- your mouth- baby, please, please don’t stop—”

You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs shake.

You sucked harder now, faster, bobbing your head as your hand stroked what your lips couldn’t take. Drool started to peak out from the corners of your mouth and dripping down to your chin. Your jaw ached. Your eyes were watering. But you loved every second of it because he looked absolutely wrecked.

He was trembling like a virgin sacrifice, hips twitching, mouth open in a soft, breathless ‘o’ as his hands finally came to your head— not pushing, not guiding, just holding, as if he needed something to cling to so he doesn’t burst at the seams.

You were soaking wet.

Your thighs pressed together under your skirt, heat thobbing between your legs. Every time he moaned, every time he whimpered your name with that desperate, wrecked voice, you felt another pulse of wetness soak your panties.

You loved this.

Loved watching him come apart because of you.

He was a babbling mess now, muttering nonsensical praise and pleas spilling from his lips.

“Your mouth’s so warm, oh my god. So good, so fucking good, feels better than anything.. Think m’gonna cum, please let me cum in your mouth..”

You pulled off just enough to say, voice breathless, “then do it. Cum for me.”

And then you swallowed him whole again, deep and wet and perfect, not stopping until his entire body went still, shaking, before bucking up into your throat as he finally came.

“Fuckfuckfuck, I’m cumming—!”

His head dropped forward, eyes wide and panicked as his cock twitched hard, spilling thick spurts of cum hot and heavy down your throat. You sucked him through it, not letting up until he was whimpering, thrashing, his knees buckling as he slumped back against the shelf.

You swallowed everything, not a drop of him wasted.

Then licked your lips, smugly grinning.

When you stood back up, he was still dazed. His eyes followed you like you were gravity itself.

“That was—” He wheezed. “I think I just- did I die? Am I dead?”

You leaned in close and whispered, “You died a slut.”

He choked on his own saliva.

And then, of course.. came the sound that ruined everything.

His phone buzzing. Loudly. With that stupidly obnoxious ringtone.

A Zelda theme remix.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, eyebrows lifting. “Is that your mom?”

Jisung turned redder than you thought humanly possible.

He yanked the phone out of his pocket and hissed, “Yes.”

“Answer it.”

“I will not—!”

You reached for it and put it on speaker before he even had the chance to protest and stop you.

“Jisung?” His mom’s voice rang out. “Did you remember to eat something today?”

He turned paler than a ghost.

You smiled sweetly, reaching over for a tissue and using it to wipe the corner of your mouth.

“He’s getting plenty of protein,” you said, and swiftly hung up.

Jisung let out a noise that could only be described as dying baby animal.

“I’m never recovering from this,” he smacks his forehead with his palm.

You peck his cheek. “You’ll recover. Eventually. After I sit on your face.”

He whimpered again. “You’re gonna be the reason I fail out of college.”

“And you’ll love every second of it.”

[girllblogging777]

IN WHICH spencer proudly shows off his wife at the BAU

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ “that’s my girlfriend, suckers”/“my wife, even better”

the case was tiring. it was a long, exhausting day of sitting around the briefing room with the rest of the team. you were trying to stay awake, observing emily who was sitting at her usual spot next to you, and penelope on your left. frantically tapped on her keyboard.

all of you were racking your brains as you went over the documents for what felt like the hundredth time. but thanks to you, after a couple of hours and coffee refills, it was finally done.

you did it. you cracked the code. you saw the tiny detail no one did, causing everyone to finally let out a relieved breath when you explained your much plausible hypothesis.

“i don’t know what we’d do without you, pretty girl” said derek when you finished rambling, allowing himself to stretch out his arms to release the pent up tension.

you just smiled, and spencer’s eyes locked with yours from the other side of the room. he was grinning goofily, dimples showing. surprisingly, he wasn’t even slightly disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t the one to solve the case this time.

instead, he cheered happily, his hand fixing his tousled hair “that’s my girlfriend, suckers !”

but the thin silver band around your finger reflected the sunlight streaming in the room as you put the files down, like a reminder to him and everyone else.

the whole team rolled their eyes, and you didn’t miss their shared amused glances, aw well as the way rossi rolled his eyes. if noticing your sickeningly sweet behaviour had been fun when you two began dating, it was now a common occurrence for all your colleagues.

“your wife, spencer.”

he looked around, chuckling to himself at your correction, before a smile creeped up his face.

“my wife, even better !”

[phagodyke]

if there's anything I've learned from working this job its that u have to be a bit of an email suckup to get ppl to do what you want

[trivia-yandere]

thinking about…

baby daddy jeon jungkook, who started off as a friends with benefit situation and ended up with you being pregnant. to think that two grown adults knew what the other were getting into when it came to unprotected sex - and upon realizing that you were late for your period, you almost wished it was a (curable) std.

warning: shameless smut, friends with benefits to lovers, to exes to lovers again??, not yandere i was just bored loll

baby daddy jungkook, the man that fucked you so good that you blamed him fully for impregnating you. “you said you were going to get me pregnant!” you had screamed at him, storming into his home without a care in the world - you knew the code to unlock it anyways. you threw the positive test at his head with such hot eyes that jungkook was ready to bend you over right there if you’d let him. “it was just sex talk!” jungkook exclaimed, picking up the positive test and examining it. 

baby daddy jungkook, who told you - a month later - that he didn’t want you to terminate the pregnancy. you and he hadn’t talked much - mainly because you ignored his calls and messages. but this time he came to your apartment and refused to stop ringing your bell until you answered. “and before you bite my head off, it’s just my opinion. you have the final decision in the end…” 

baby daddy jungkook, who somehow had you bent over your couch, plunging his cock deep inside of you. so maybe you two were a little impulsive at times, but thats what made you and him click. jungkook never knew the thought of getting someone pregnant was this hot - his hips cracking his bare cock deeper and deeper into you until you’re begging him to cum right into you. so maybe you were the problem too - but you were already pregnant, what else was suppose to happen?

baby daddy jungkook, who asked you to move in with him when you were 3 months. it wasnt as if you already werent here enough - you had more than enough clothes, a toothbrush and your own designated spot in his closet. “it would save you money on rent, too. you could use that money to buy things for the baby.”

baby daddy jungkook, who when you were 6 months, asked you to be bis girlfriend. it wasnt romantic at all - just a thought over dinner; a pizza with a shit ton of random toppings that you wanted and he hadnt told you no. his fingers dances on your small bump and says; “the baby is a size of an avocado, you know? i think we should make it official.”  when you blinked at him, he said, “like boyfriend & girlfriend official…is that what we are already? you sit on my face all the time-“ you shut him up by mushing his face away with a scoff.

baby daddy jungkook who, for the first time in nearly 3 decades of living, had raised his voice at his mother. his brother had cleared his throat while his father had attempted to change the topic of conversation - but his mother was left speechless. after a half an hour of “subtle” shade thrown your way before she told you that she didnt think a child was what jungkook needed now, he was done with being nice. “if you cant accept y/n and the baby, then you dont need to be around either of us.” 

baby daddy jungkook who stood true on his word. his weekly visits to his parents home had stopped all together - not until you were given an apology. “i dont think its that serious, kook. i would be mad too if my child had a baby out of wedlock simply because they were too horny to wrap it up.” but you were appreciative that jungkook had defended you, and within another month, you received the apology.

baby daddy jungkook who had managed to set up the nursery all within the 6 hours that you slept. you woke up to the finishing touches - and a bit overwhelmed that this was really happening. the soft gray crib laid in the middle of the room, the curtains drawn to let it bright, natural light. a rocking chair in the corner of the room, matching the color of the crib. he screwed in floating shelves, some displaying baby books and one pictures; an ultrasound, one of you holding your belly and one of you and him. 

baby daddy jungkook who thought he done something wrong when you burst into (happy) tears. maybe the color was wrong? should he have waited until you were up to set up the nursery? you and he didn't know the gender yet so you opted for more neutral tone colors. “i-i can change it around-“ “shut up, it’s so nice and im emotional!” you had said, easing jungkook’s beating heart. 

baby daddy jungkook who, at your baby shower that your friends were throwing you, demanded that he - and his own group of male friends - be apart of it. so, much to your friends dismay, had added them. the gifts appeared to be never ending. eun-woo coming with mountains of baby clothes, mingyu a custom blanket that was so soft to the touch, you were almost envious. yoongi, an old family friend if yours, stated that he was more logically, nearly stocked up your ceiling with diapers and wipes.

baby daddy jungkook, who nearly fainted when your water broke in the middle of grocery shopping at 2 am - an act you told him you were going to do regardless. so he had drove you and while in the ice cream section, a gush of water trailing down your leg and splashing onto the tiled ground. 

baby daddy jungkook who didn't know what to do while hours of labor. he held your hand, rubbed your arms and your shoulders, but still he felt like whatever he did wasn't enough. "i have to get a c section to get your big headed ass child out!"

baby daddy jungkook who's eyes were wide with shock as his eyes dances between your face to the doctors operating on you. he once watched a video on tiktok about the procedure and he fully understands that woman don't get nearly as much credit as they deserve. you think he looks cute in his scrubs, hair covered by a hairnet that causes you to giggle, the epidural you took easing the pain.

baby daddy jungkook who shakily takes the baby into his arms, his heart pounding after hearing the gender - a boy. how he and you managed to not find out the gender was incredible, but not as much as holding the baby was.

baby daddy jungkook who finds being a dad and experiencing the first everything was just amazing. he documented it all on his camera, zooming in and out of the growing baby's face - a baby that continued to grow over time. in a blink of an eye, his son had managed to sit up, craw, to walking. he and you had screamed at the first steps that it startled your son right back into crawling - but not for long.

baby daddy jungkook who, after five years, somehow, your relationship wasn't the same. you didn't blame him and he didn't blame you. people grow apart, right? they say people change in relationships all the time. that didn't mean that jungkook loved you any less.

baby daddy jungkook who assures he's always on time for pickups. he's leaning against his car just as you open the door to your apartment. his son, now 8, makes his way out. he has his face shoved into his ipad and nearly walks into him. "you ready to ride all the rollarcoasters?" jungkook asks, now catching his sons attention. "isn't he too small for that?" you asked, and jungkook turns his head to you.

baby daddy jungkook who doesn't hide the way his eyes linger on your chest, nipples poking through the shirt you wore. you weren't going anywhere and you were dressed comfortably - how he remembers the way you'd dress when you and he lived together. "stop staring at me, creep." you scoff, but your tone is teasing. "if i didn't know any better, i think you dressed this way for me."

baby daddy jungkook who somehow always finds his way in your bedroom - in which you welcome him into. your son is at school when jungkook comes one afternoon, flowers in his hands. he always assures to bring them once a month, stating that just because you and he weren't together didn't mean he was going to be an asshole.

baby daddy jungkook who fucks you just as good as he did when you and he were together - or just like the very beginning. his cock springing in and out of you rapidly, hands holding onto your hips. "your pussy's always so wet," he'd exclaim, hissing. "best pussy i've ever had, i swear."

baby daddy jungkook who loves whatever position you're in. when you flip him and bounce on his cock, arms wrapped around his shoulders. his tongue would find your skin, roaming around to mark it possessively. his hand would grip your breast, shoving his face into it.

baby daddy jungkook who cums in you so freely - an act you never not tell him to do. you and him are always so caught into the moment that you never bother to wear protection. so thats when you witness yet another positive test, you cannot be upset with jungkook more than yourself.

baby daddy jungkook who is giddy when you show him the test - nearly bouncing at the thought of you two repeating history again. "so, when are you moving back in?" he asks, leaning against the wall. "who says we're getting back together?" you scoff. "you haven't left my house in a week. our son already thinks we're together again."

[ama3003]

You Caught Me

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Valentina's assistant, and somehow, you manage to fall in love with a certain Congressman.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like 25.

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

You worked your whole life to get here. Straight A’s, a top-tier college, a string of impressive jobs that made your parents brag to their friends.

But that wasn’t the point. You didn’t do all of that just to climb a ladder. You wanted to help people. To actually do good. To give the voiceless a voice, to step in where others wouldn’t. You wanted to make the world better, even if it was just piece by piece.

That’s what led you to OXE. And eventually, to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Or, more accurately, to being her assistant. Though calling it that feels like selling it short.

You’ve been working with her for a few years now. From the very beginning, she seemed to like you. Said you reminded her of herself. You’re still not sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

Valentina can be cold. She’s sharp, calculated, sarcastic to the point of painful. Some of her decisions don’t exactly land on the moral high ground. But she took you in, brought you closer, taught you how to survive in a world most people don't even know exists. And you’ve done things others your age only dream about. You were actually making a difference.

But now everything’s falling apart.

She’s under investigation. Impeachment is on the table. And you’re left trying to put out fires.

You’d been tense the entire hearing. And not the kind of tension that goes away with a few deep breaths. This was chest-tightening, eye-twitching, every-decision-matters tension.

Your job was on the line. Everything you’d worked for — or convinced yourself was worth it — was balancing on Valentina’s ability to lie with a smile.

She was performing. You were managing the fallout.

Your eyes kept drifting — trying to find some kind of anchor. And that’s when you caught a pair of them.

Blue. Cold but curious. Watching.

Congressman Bucky Barnes.

You met his stare, held it a second longer than you should’ve, then forced yourself to look away. Whatever that was — whatever he was trying to read — you didn’t have time to entertain it.

Then Valentina dropped the line you’d been dreading: “By all means, dig as deep as you like. I promise—there’s nothing to find.”

You knew that tone. It meant you had twenty minutes to erase every breadcrumb.

By the time the hearing adjourned, you were already outside, typing fast, juggling secure files and decoy trails on your tablet. You barely noticed the footsteps until—

“Y/N?”

You looked up, and there he was. Again.

That same cool stare, now paired with a too-casual smile.

“Congressman Barnes,” you said smoothly, tucking the tablet under your arm. “Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard...great things.”

“I doubt it. Also, please just Bucky,” he said, offering a hand. “Unless you want to start talking tax policy — then I’ll put the tie back on.”

You cracked a smile and shook his hand. Firm. Warm. Too steady.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing back toward the hearing room. “I mean, what happened in there was... honestly? Kind of worrying. Extremely worrying. Kind of concerning if you ask me...in like a worrying way.”

You tilted your head. “You mean ‘concerning,’ or ‘I’m building a case against your boss’ worrying?”

He blinked. Didn’t expect you to hit back that fast.

You smiled politely. “No need to dance around it. I’m sure you’ve got a folder somewhere with Valentina's name on it.”

His grin crooked slightly. “Maybe. It’s a very organized folder. Color-coded tabs.”

“She always did love being underestimated,” you said with a shrug. “O.X.E. has nothing to hide, of course.”

He didn’t argue, but the look he gave you said he wasn’t buying it.

There was a beat of silence, and then he glanced over your shoulder — where Valentina was watching the two of you, pretending she wasn’t.

“She always stare like that?” he asked casually.

“Only when she thinks someone’s wasting my time.”

“And am I?”

“Depends on why you’re really here.”

He smiled. “Okay, fine. I’m new to D.C. First term, still finding my way. Thought maybe... you could give me a tour. Show me the non-corrupt parts.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a short list.”

“Still. Monuments, museums, a little fresh air — maybe a conversation?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Right. A conversation. Just two people talking. No ulterior motives, no recording devices, no traps.”

He held up his hands. “I left the wire at home.”

You smirked, but you didn’t let it reach your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he said. “Just... improvising.”

You leaned in just enough for him to know you were done playing. “You’re fishing, Congressman. I’m just not the one you’ll catch.”

He opened his mouth — maybe to protest, maybe to flirt again — but you stepped back as Valentina waved you over.

“You're a very good-looking man,” you added, softer now. “And I appreciate the effort. But whatever you’re hoping to dig up from me? You won’t get it over coffee and small talk.”

A beat passed between you.

Then you gave him one last smirk, turned, and walked back toward Valentina — leaving him standing there, watching.

And even though you didn’t look back, you knew those blue eyes hadn’t moved.

*******

You had three things on your mind.

Shut down headquarters.

Erase every trace of Project Sentry.

Clean up Valentina’s reputation before the whole thing implodes.

And somehow, you're doing all of that in a dress and heels at a fundraiser.

“Honestly, Y/N, you have such an amazing brain,” Valentina says, her smile more calculated than warm. “Putting this fundraiser together? Brilliant move. This has to sway at least some of the votes.”

“Thanks,” you reply, quickly scrolling through your tablet. “I’ve categorized the guest list: influencers, allies, and the undecideds. Left off the hard no’s. No point wasting time. I just sent the files to you.”

“Perfect. Do I need you for anything else?”

“No, you should be good. I’ll stay close though. Just in case.”

“Smart. Stay where I can see you. And hear you. Actually, just don’t go far,” she says, already turning to work the room. “Time to network.”

As soon as she walks away, you exhale, realizing you hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath.

This job is not for the weak. Especially not under someone like her.

You glance around the room, taking in the glittering lights, expensive suits, and fake smiles. Your eyes find Valentina again, instinctively keeping track of her. Then they drift to the large Avengers logo on display at the front of the gala.

You were still a kid the first time you saw the Avengers on screen. They were larger than life. Heroes. They saved people. They made things right.

Now? You’ve seen the world fall apart more times than you can count. And more often than not, no one shows up to fix it.

That’s why you’ve stuck by Valentina. Why you’ve been willing to blur the lines. The world still needs saving. People still need heroes.

They just don’t always look the way you imagined.

“You know,” a voice says beside you, calm but unmistakably familiar, “this whole gala is impressive. The Avengers memorabilia is a nice touch.”

You turn and see him. Congressman Bucky Barnes, standing just a few feet away, his gaze locked on the towering Avengers "A" on display like it still meant something.

“Valentina thought it would help raise awareness,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral, polite. “Tie the past to the present. Nostalgia works.”

You’re careful with your words. You know why he’s here, what game he’s playing. And more importantly, you know where your loyalty lies.

He glances at you now, the full weight of those ice-blue eyes meeting yours. “Awareness for what, exactly?”

You offer a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “The mission has always been simple. Help the people. The world’s been falling apart, and heroes… they’ve disappeared. People need someone to believe in again.”

He nods slowly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “Again, call me Bucky. Also, that was good. Very rehearsed. Very polished. Bet Valentina was proud of that one.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just here for the hors d'oeuvres,” he says, voice smooth, but you catch the edge underneath it.

You take a step closer. “Look, Congressman Barnes. I know your history. And we both know what happens when evil comes and no one is there to stop it. OXE is trying to prevent that. Everything we do is for the people. Valentina’s impeachment? It won’t go anywhere.”

Even as you say it, there's a flicker of doubt. Small, but there.

He studies you for a moment before pulling a card from inside his jacket and holding it out.

“What’s this?” you ask, accepting it cautiously.

“My direct line. In case you remember something useful.”

You blink at him, caught slightly off guard by how calm he is. How sure.

You move closer, slow and deliberate, then reach up and tuck the card neatly into his chest pocket. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying, but I don’t appreciate it."

The two of you lock eyes, silence stretching between you. Not hostile, exactly. But charged. Neither of you blinks.

Then your phone buzzes.

You glance at your phone. Valentina. Of course.

You slip it back into your pocket and look up at him one more time.

“I have to go,” you say, steady. “Enjoy the rest of the gala, Bucky.”

Your smile is polite, but your eyes stay sharp. You turn and walk off without waiting for a response, the sound of your heels swallowed by the noise of the event.

Behind you, he watches you disappear into the crowd, quiet and thoughtful. Then, without a word, he finds himself slipping the card into your bag later in the night. Not for pressure. Not even for leverage.

Just in case.

And whether you used the card or not—that was your choice. Bucky just hoped he’d planted the seed.

Later that night, you sat beside Valentina in the back of a sleek black car, the city lights flickering across her face as she debriefed the night with a grin.

“I think that went incredibly well,” she said, proud and pleased with herself. “Honestly, I’m so proud of us. Oh—hand me my tablet. I gave it to you earlier when Gary started sniffing around asking too many questions.”

Your fingers found something thin. Smooth edges. Not the tablet.

The card.

Bucky’s card.

Your stomach tightened, just for a second.

He’d slipped it in without you noticing. Of course he had.

You stared at it between your fingers. You should’ve tossed it the second you felt it. Should’ve never looked at it again. But something kept your hand still.

“Y/N?” Valentina’s voice cuts in, sharp and expectant. “Tablet. Me. Now.”

You snap out of it, quickly pushing the card deeper into your bag before pulling out the tablet and handing it over.

She doesn’t notice. She’s already scrolling.

You tried to focus on the night’s success, the way people clapped when Valentina spoke, the headlines you knew would be glowing by morning. But that card was still in your bag. And the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About the look in his eyes.

About the weight of what he said.

Maybe—just maybe—he really did get in your head. And maybe that seed he planted was already starting to grow.

*********

You’d made a mistake. A big one.

And you knew it.

Your heart raced as you paced the cramped hallway, mind spiraling. You'd believed you were making a difference—helping Valentina clean up her reputation felt like part of that. She said she needed you. That this was how things got done. So you listened.

Then she told you to burn the loose ends. Literally burn them.

Human beings.

And still, you followed orders. You rationalized. You looked the other way.

But the plan didn’t go as expected. They didn’t go quietly.

They were fighting back.

And Valentina didn’t like that.

Now a SWAT team is going to finish the job.

You couldn't let them die. You knew their names. Their stories. You didn’t believe they deserved this—not like this. Maybe it was too late to save them all, but maybe you could help save others.

Maybe there was still a chance.

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You dug into your bag, searching through the chaos until your fingers found it. That damn card.

You stared at it for a beat. Then you called.

It rang once. Then again. And then he picked up.

“This is Y/N,” you said before he could get a word in, your voice low, rushed, almost breathless. “I’ve, uh... been thinking. Remember that tour you wanted? You were right. Since you’re new to D.C., I figured—why not? Let’s hit the monuments. Maybe a museum. Or... I don’t know. Just talk. Just you and me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“A chat?” Bucky’s voice came through, teasingly. You started biting your nails, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m down for a chat. When and where?”

Before you could answer, Valentina’s voice sliced through the hallway outside.

“I swear to god, Y/N, do I have to spell it out for you? You're coming with us. Get your ass in the car. Who else is going to make my coffee right? I swear, you Gen Zers make me want to throw myself off this damn building.”

You went silent, your jaw clenched. Bucky didn’t say anything either, but you knew he heard it.

Everything inside you was pulling in different directions. Guilt. Fear. Fury. Shame.

You swallowed hard.

“Look…” you whispered, voice shaking a little. “I’m sorry about the last few times. You were right. You were always right. I was so stupid. She doesn’t care about the world. She just wants the glory.”

You were rambling now. You always did when your anxiety started creeping up your throat.

“Whoa, hey—slow down, sweetheart,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just tell me what I need to know.”

But before you could speak again, Valentina shouted your name, louder this time.

You turned slightly, lowered your voice again.

“Do you have an iPhone?”

“No. Samsung.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course. “Do you know how to track a phone?”

“I mean, yeah. But I don’t really do that anymore.”

“Well... start doing it again.”

You paused, then added quietly, “I have to go. Track my location. You'll get your answer.”

Then you hung up.

You let out a long breath, pushed the card deep back into your bag, and ran toward Valentina’s voice.

Hoping Bucky understood.

**********

You were pacing again. Nerves buzzing. Mind racing. You were worried about the others. They escaped when Bob distracted them. Then they couldn't find them. But something told you Bucky had gotten to them first. You could feel it in your gut.

He pulled through. Of course he did.

But now… there was a new problem.

Bob.

The new guy. The unstable one.

He wasn’t like the others. Something about him was off from the start. Too volatile. Too quick to react. And now he had powers — real powers — thanks to Valentina.

She said he was the future. Said he was the key.

But all you saw was a ticking bomb with a name tag.

He didn’t need power or exposure. He needed help. And if no one stepped in soon, he was going to destroy everything — maybe even himself.

You ducked into a quiet hallway, slipped into an empty supply closet, and dialed Bucky’s number with shaking hands.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N,” he said, breathless like he’d been mid-action. “We’re good. I got them. Everyone’s safe. I’m keeping them under wraps as witnesses, so we’re covered. You did the right thing calling me. Thank you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall.

“No,” you said softly. “Bucky, there’s more. A lot more.”

There was a pause.

“Talk to me.”

“She did it,” you whispered. “She actually made one. A super soldier. His name’s Bob.”

“Bob?” he repeated, half in disbelief, half already bracing for what was coming next.

You could hear background chatter on his end — voices muttering “Yeah, Bob,”

“Yes. Bob the super soldier. He’s... not stable, Bucky. He’s got powers, strength, speed — but his head isn’t right. He’s spiraling, and Valentina’s using him like he’s a tool.

You were rambling now, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

“She’s restarting the entire program, and this guy — he’s the prototype. And if she gets away with this, there will be more. Stronger. You have to stop it before it turns into something we can’t come back from.”

There was silence on the line. Then you heard him moving, footsteps pacing across concrete.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m coming. I’ll handle it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” his voice softened, “are you okay?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “Everything I worked for is going to be for nothing. I'm freaking out.”

“You don’t have to carry this alone, you know.”

“I can't tell my friends or family.” you said, quieter now. “I already feel guilty and shameful enough. They would just make me feel worse.”

Another pause. Then softer, “Y/N... I meant what I said. You did the right thing. And I’m proud of you. Really.”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. That means more than you probably realize.”

“I realize it,” he said. And it was quiet, but it hit you harder than it should’ve.

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Are they okay? The others?”

“They’re safe. A little roughed up, but they’re going to be fine.”

“Good. That’s good,” you said, exhaling. “I should go. I’ll keep feeding you updates when I can. Just… get here fast, alright?”

“Okay,” He finally whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up and slipped the phone back into your pocket before walking out the door. You immediately froze when your boss stared at you with raised eyebrows.

“Well,” she said coolly, “out of everyone, I never thought you would be the one second-guessing your work.”

You didn’t flinch. Not this time. “Giving Bob those powers? It’s reckless. And you know it.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head like you were some disappointing intern instead of her right hand. “I’m not going to argue with you, kid. I like you. I really do. You’ve done exceptional work—with me. For us. That’s why I’m giving you a little time to get your head on straight.”

Your jaw clenched. You said nothing.

“But,” she added, stepping a little closer, lowering her voice, “don’t let Barnes cloud that beautiful brain of yours. He’s a distraction. A loud, inconvenient one. And he’s getting in the way.”

You met her gaze evenly, letting the silence stretch.

Then, without a word, you grabbed your purse and walked past her—heels clicking, spine straight.

You needed to find Bucky.

*********

"Ladies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers."

After countless photos and a barrage of questions, you kept your smile steady, doing your job one last time.

“Thank you all for coming,” you said with calm finality. “Photos and questions will stop here. I’ll be in touch about the next press briefing soon. Seriously—thank you again.”

You gave a polite nod as Valentina waved beside you, her signature smirk in place.

As the crowd began to disperse, you turned your attention to the Thunderbolts. With a gentle but firm push, you guided them out of view, away from the cameras. And then—without thinking—you grabbed Bucky and pulled him into a hug.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

You’d been searching for him. Panicking. Lost. The last image you had was of him stepping into the Void. The moment his silhouette became just that—a shadow—you screamed his name. And then… nothing.

You thought you’d lost him.

But now, here he was. Alive. Solid. Real. And all the emotions you’d buried came rushing back.

You knew there was something between you—something electric, something raw and waiting. It had barely started, but it already meant something. And for a bit, you'd been mourning the future that never got a chance to begin.

Now, you didn’t have to mourn anymore.

The moment stretched. Everyone around you went quiet. You barely registered your boss muttering an uneasy, “Oh dear.”

Bucky froze, stiff in your arms. He glanced around, uncertain. John gave him a look before mimicking hugging someone. Alexei flashed a thumbs-up. The girls? They just smirked.

“I saw you,” you whispered, pulling back just slightly. “I saw you walk into the Void. You became a shadow. I—I was trying to find you, and then you pulled that crap. What the hell, Barnes?”

He opened his mouth, but you beat him to it—stepping back before he could even return the embrace.

“I’m okay,” he said gently. “I swear, I’m fine.” He just wanted you back into his arms.

“You still scared the hell out of me,” you said, your voice breaking just a little. “I thought you were gone for good.”

Bucky's expression softened. “I’m not going anywhere. You still owe me that tour, remember?”

You laughed—half out of relief, half because it suddenly felt so easy to breathe again. You stepped closer, pulled him into a kiss, and he kissed you back without hesitation. Sparks. Heat. Home.

When you finally pulled away, smiling, you whispered, “Looks like you caught me.”

He grinned. “Looks like I have.”

Then you kissed again.

A loud groan broke the moment. “I feel like I’m gonna barf,” Val muttered.

“Shut up, Val,” the entire team replied in unison.

[pettysreverie]

Kinda really obsessed with the idea of him becoming super obsessed with you after fucking you…

CW: AFAB!Reader, stalking, obsessive behavior, yandere-esque behavior (if I missed something, pls kindly let me know!)

Like, I imagine that maybe he’s just come back from deployment? Would explain why he’s so starved for a good fuck, ya know?

Probably meets you in a pub (bc duh) and after a few drinks between the two of you, you both decide to go back to his place.

He figures it’s gonna be nothing too big of a deal. Certainly nothing he hasn’t done before.

Who hasn’t taken a bird back from the pub for a good fuck?

But the moment he slides into your cunt, he knows that he’d been wrong.

Whatever he’d been doing before was not fucking. Was not having sex. Because sex with you—with your slutty cunt and those heavenly sounds you make—is bewitching.

As if your cunt is putting him deeper and deeper under a spell with every twitch and clench.

A spell he gladly welcomes.

Your body is so soft and beautiful. And you…you’re so pliant and willing—batting those pretty lashes at him with that dazed, fucked out look in your eyes.

And that’s when the spell cements.

When a flip switches inside of him.

When something…changes.

He grips your ankles and hoists your legs over his shoulders to drive his cock even deeper inside of your quivering heat.

Your back bows off the bed and your hands grapple the sheets, moans tumbling from your kiss swollen lips as your eyes nearly roll all the way back.

“Yer mine. All mine.”And there’s a stutter in his breath as he moans, his hips momentarily stuttering in their otherwise relentless movements. “Say it fer me, love.”

But with the way he’s got you practically folded in half—knees all but bent to your chest with your legs draped over his back—replying to him is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

He angles his hips, driving long and deliciously thick cock directly into your sweet spot over and over again—seemingly determined to drive you insane with pleasure.

Seemingly determined to fuck you positively dumb.

“Say. It.”He grits out, his voice taking on an almost animalistic, growling tone.

There is something so primal about his command. Something about it brings out such a fundamental instinct in you that you cannot help but to comply—to submit.

“Y-Yours…”You manage to utter amongst your incoherent babbling and moaning.

One word.

You only speak one word.

But one word is all he needed to hear.

He fucks you well into the morning. The sun rises, its light shining through the cracks in the curtains by the time he turns you loose and allows you to rest.

And rest you do.

When you wake up, it’s practically evening!

You’re quite embarrassed. But like the gentleman he is, he assures you that he does not mind. In fact, he even offers to pay for your transportation home.

You decline, too embarrassed about your faux pas.

And for you? You assume that, while this was an amazing experience, it was a one time thing. You don’t expect to see him again.

But you do.

You run into him again and again and again.

At the market. At the park. At the coffee shop.

It’s fate! It’s the universe! It’s gotta be something, right?

It’s…him.

You really thought he was going to let you go after that world altering fuck? The way you blew his mind? The way your cunt hypnotized him?

Silly, beautiful, stupid woman.

Just the thought of someone else having you like that…no, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

How could he let you get away?

No, he had to hack your phone.

Not like it was hard…sure he’s more of a “field” agent. More used to having a gun in his hand and his boots on the ground, but he’s no stranger to some lines of spyware code.

Besides, you made it quite easy for him by sleeping in as long as you did…not that he minded of course!

You look so peaceful while you sleep. So beautiful, actually.

And really, he was so very glad he’d hacked your phone. How else was he supposed to know where you lived when you rejected his offer to pay for your transportation home?

But now that he’s in your phone, he’s practically in your life already.

Every contact you have saved, he knows.

Every place you go, he knows and can go there too. (How do you think your two have been running into each other so often?)

Every post you like. Every pin you save. Every song you playlist. He knows it all.

Not that you know it…not that you ever will.

He’ll let you believe it’s fate. Or the universe. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter to him, really.

Besides, you’re already his.

You even said so yourself…remember?

(Oh you don’t? Then why doesn’t he just remind you?)

[riddlesrose]

Hi hi!! I recently read your HCs of “kissin him stupid” With the housewardens and I was wondering if it’s possible to request the same thing but with the vice housewardens + ruggie? If not then you can just ignore this, thanks in advance! <33

kissin him stupid pt. 2

w/ trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, & lilia

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

tysm for this request - i didnt know if i wanted to do a part two but if the audience seeks more i shall deliver, and i decided to take jamil's a slightly different route, it's all the same in the end

part one!

trey removes and folds his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. he falls back onto his bed with a defeated sigh.

the mattress dips as you sit beside him, mocking his sigh. he shuts his eyes and smiles, playfully swatting at you like a pestering fly in the summer heat. 

“long day?” you turn to sit more comfortably. 

“you have no idea.” 

“i think i do. you may go prematurely grey dealing with ace and deuce alone, i can imagine adding literally anyone else into the equation would probably drive anyone crazy.” you reach over, smoothing your thumb between his eyebrows, watching as they unfurrow under your touch. trey grabs your hand and kisses the palm. 

he sighs again, and you think this is your chance to drive him a little more crazy. you feel for the lipstick in your pocket, and apply it as quietly as you can as you listen to trey recount his day. 

you hum in agreement, shifting closer so you’re not awkwardly leaning around his head and grab both of his hands, caging them in one of your own. he could easily escape your makeshift prison but he doesn’t. as he attempts to open his eyes, you cover them with your free hand, rendering him more sightless than he was without his glasses. 

you brush your lips slightly against trey’s, then move to kiss his cheek, down to his jaw, then up to his forehead. you remove your hand from his eyes, knowing he understands your goal. trey purses his lips, trying to hide the smile that threatens to break out. 

you brush some hair off his forehead and kiss it again, then under his eye, and the other. you notice he’s wriggled his hands free of your hold when an arm wraps around you, pulling you inches closer. 

trey leans his forehead against yours, transferring some of the lip marks onto you, “did you know you’re worse than the first years combined?”

you lean back, gasping dramatically. “how rude! for that,” you turn your back completely to him, “i think i’m done here.” 

he grabs a handful of the back of your sweater, pulling you back, “hey now…” 

“‘hey’ yourself,” you say, smiling stupidly at his somewhat messy appearance. 

trey pulls you down further, kissing your cheek, “i surely wouldn’t let them do this, would i?”

you know he meant for that to be cute and meaningful, but you can’t help but drive him a little further towards the edge of insanity, “well, i would hope not? that would be a little awkward.” trey groans as you snicker. 

you know he likes you.

ruggie will do just about anything for the right price, everyone knows that. you seem to think that you’ve got his code cracked as he stands in the middle of the ramshackle kitchen utterly speechless because you’ve got him to leave savanaclaw, come all the way here, just to open an already opened jar of olives. 

well, you needed an excuse to try on your newest gift from grims grubby, thieving paws. 

ruggie turns to place the jar down, still wondering why he needed to be the one to get it open. while he’s pondering to himself about your choices, you call out to him from just outside the door, “you done?” 

“uh, yeah. why did i need-” he’s stopped by you as he passes through the door frame, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him to you. 

he stumbles but regains himself swiftly, eyes narrowed in confusion. he doesn’t have time to question you again as you let his shirt go, and wrap an arm around his neck, bringing him to perfect height. you start pecking swift kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. ruggie hesitates momentarily, unsure of what’s going on, why you’re suddenly kissing him a lot, and were your lips always that red? no…

he grabs onto your shoulders and pushes back lightly, attaining new open inches between the two of you, and examines your face. he knew he wasn’t crazy. “where d’ya get the lipstick?” 

you shrug, “grim, i guess?” 

“you guess?” you nod, attempting to return to attacking showering ruggie with affection, but he stops you once again. “wait, wait. what is this?” 

“i know you don’t do things for free, it’s reasonable! and i kind of just wanted a reason to kissalloveryourface.” you hide behind your hand by the end of your sentence, trying to make it as inaudible as possible, but with the flush that takes over ruggie’s cheeks, you know he’s heard you loud and clear. 

“you’re… insufferable.” 

“but you like me!”

jade’s bicoloured eyes follow from his desk chair as you walk circles around his room, talking his ear off about one thing or the other. you plunge your hand into your pocket and fiddle with the items you brought along, only to wing your arm out again to dramatically accentuate your sentence. 

the cycle breaks when jade grabs your attention, motioning for you to come closer. you sputter, trying to focus your mind from your tangent back to calm. your hand finds the tube in your pocket once again. 

when you’re close enough to arms length, jade reaches out, “what do you keep playing with?” he gently grasps the wrist of the hand in your pocket, revealing the black tube in your hand.

a smile creeps up onto your lips as you un-cap the lipstick and apply it swiftly before jade can fully process what it is. though he’s quick and observant, he’s taken slightly aback as he wasn’t expecting the rich red makeup. it’s not everyday either of you have reason to get dressed up, and as far as jade’s scary good memory goes, there’s nothing planned for tonight. 

“it was a… gift of sorts. can i?” 

jade narrows his eyes slightly, but nods nonetheless, trusting you’re not planning his imminent demise. you place a stabilizing hand on the arm of his desk chair and use the other to move aside the long black strand of hair the left side of his face. you place a kiss under the spot the strand covers, but you don’t stop. you trail across his forehead, down his nose and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. 

you lean back slightly, and are met with jade’s features covered in a light, rosy flush. a sharp toothy grin spreads across his lips as he drags you back, stealing a red-stained kiss, making you gasp. 

“oh, no you don’t,” you mutter as you attempt to continue your kiss-ambush. jade throws his hands up in defeat, allowing you to smudge the red makeup all around his face. 

jade’s eyes shut as you press your lips against him more and more, until he’s more kiss than eel. 

he chuckles when he figures you’re not stopping, “okay, okay… i think i’m more red than i’ve ever been.” 

you lean back again, ready to protest but you realize that he’s right. there’s more smudges and stains on his face than bare skin. you grab the tube and examine it, there’s got to be some warning on here that says ‘super, extremely smudging.’ or ‘not transfer proof’ because you now have first hand experience with its ability.

jamil runs a hand through his hair, lightly tugging out a tangle near the end as he watches you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. the delicate, white wooden desk was a gift from vil after the SDC and STYX affairs. he had planned to gift you something of the sorts but it was put on a… temporary hold after he was taken. 

what vil didn’t disclose was that he’d left a tray of different makeup items in one of the drawers with a note, just in case you’d ever like to try your hand. many thanks, vil. 

thanks to the sneaky housewarden, you have a fabulous idea for the unsuspecting serpentine vice sitting on your bed. you turn on the short bench seat to jamil, giving a small nod of approval. you assume it’s because of the red lipstick that you chose to show off. 

you beckon him closer, across your decently sizable room. he raises a brow but complies anyways. once he’s within arms reach, you grab onto the front of his sweater, pulling him close enough to lean up and kiss his cheek, leaving a perfectly shaped mark. 

heat instantly rushes to jamil’s face as he frees himself from your grasp and covers his face. he averts his eyes, looking anywhere but you, and it has you thinking what you did was wrong. he quickly notices your concern and starts to feel guilty for reacting how he did but it really caught him off guard. 

while jamil’s turning gears in his head, you realize he’s flustered. extremely flustered. embarrassed, even. 

you stand, taking a tentative step towards jamil as if he’s a skittish animal that may bolt if you move too quickly. when he makes no move to back away further, you remove the hands from his face, snickering. 

you slowly press another kiss to his heated face, then another, and another one until his cheeks are covered and jamil’s attempting to hide himself inside the collar of his sweater. 

he wants to hide himself away, to reach out and never let go, ask for more, and run away all at once, or none at the same time. jamil’s conflicted, but the one thing he does know is that he gets to be selfish, and he’ll take all he can get.

rook takes your face in his hands, gently examining the purple lipstick swatches over your lips. “i think this colour is the best one, so far!” he exclaims with excitement. you turn to face the mirror, the colour reminds you of the one vil usually wears. 

“rook…” you face him again, he hums.“you’re not favouring this one because it’s the same as a certain housewarden, are you?” 

colour instantly rushes to his face, “ah, non! i simply think it is a lovely colour.” suuuure.

“well,” you wipe the purple lipstick off and reach into your pocket. “i have a colour suggestion.” rook eyes the tube as you apply it evenly across your lips, a pleasant hum escapes as he takes in the velvety colour. 

you wait a moment as he intently examines the red lipstick with a raised eyebrow, “so?” you question. 

“c’est magnifique! where did you get it?” you shrug. rook begins to ramble off about… something you don’t quite understand. you reach over, taking a hold of his collar and bring him to your height, pressing a kiss to his lips, effectively halting his oncoming tangent. 

rook falters for half of a second, and you take that opportunity to pull him back again, kissing his cheeks. 

you feel his hand snake around your neck, urging you to continue the assault on his features, so you do. you kiss where you can reach, his forehead, nose, lips again, before rook’s practically falling backwards in a fit of childish giggles. 

you have to hold onto the front of his shirt so he doesn’t actually fall back into his vanity. 

rook calms himself enough to take in his disheveled reflection. he tilts his face around, and starts pointing out the spots you missed. 

somewhat shocked, you press kisses where his finger lands, and he’s never been happier.  what an odd guy, this rook hunt. but he’s your odd guy, who loves you and your lipstick kisses very, very much.

you lounge across lilia’s cluttered bed as he plays some first-person shooter game that looks unappealing. he strategically moves his little character around, avoiding enemies and wiping out the opposing team with practiced ease, while occasionally opening and replying to his online friend between kills or matches. 

swiping on magicam has begun to get boring so you decide bothering lilia is a better idea. 

it starts with throwing a pencil at him. then a random stone you found on the floor, then coming up behind him and pushing around his wheeled chair. he swats you away like you’re some fly, trying to pester him to death while he attempts to concentrate. you back away, acting as if you’ve gotten the hint to leave him to his game, but no. 

you feel for the tube in your pocket and apply the lipstick quickly. you return to lilia’s side, innocently watching as he blasts through other players like they’re nothing. each time he eliminates someone you press a kiss to a new spot on his face. he’s too focused to realize you’re leaving red stains behind, which makes it funnier to you. 

his concentration breaks when the round concludes, and he turns to you. only then does lilia realize you’ve been leaving lipstick marks over his face. he reaches up and wipes a finger across his cheek, examining the colour, with a defeated- yet smug- smile. 

you continue as the next round starts but you stop just as his nose scrunches and the screen reads game over, “you really know how to get on an old man's nerves, don’t you?” 

“oh, you’re not that old.” 

lilia opens his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it, “in fae years.” 

you both laugh as he shuts his monitor off, “now, where’s that lipstick?”

“no.”

self indulgent pt 2!!! (sorry for how long this took, anon, i actually don't know why. and ignore if there's any weird formatting problems, i fought with this post too much to care UGH)

masterlist