#i also feel like there could be a third installment of this which is him not even being able to go to biloxi-

[perexcri]

will going on his casino run in las vegas: tired, overwrought, expected, hinted at by canon

will going on his casino run in biloxi: refreshing, exciting, unexpected, spits in canon's face, brings up more interesting questions (such as: wtf are you even supposed to do in a place like biloxi), implies that he couldn't afford to enact his fraud in las vegas and had to settle for somewhere else which adds both humor and interesting socioeconomic questions to the matter. oh also if he did it at the right time of year he'd get to go to a crawfish boil lol

[into-crazy]

hot tub surprise

Negan Smith x Female Reader one shot

Non-apocalyptic AU // The Walking Dead AU

Summary: You sneak over to your older next door neighbor's house and use his hot tub. Hoping that he'll come out and catch you.

Warnings- mature language, alcohol consumption, age gap(reader's over 18, Negan's in his 40s), breaking and entering, NSFW, SMUT, slight masochism, masturbation, degradation, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, ages 18+

Author's Note: There were a few times where I had to stop and take a deep breath to calm down because it got pretty hot lol. But I had a lot of fun writing this one, I hope you guys like it♡

💕divider by @saradika-graphics

There was something you always liked about your next door neighbor, Negan Smith.

Maybe it was because you were into older men. It could be his cocky, devil-may-care personality. Or perhaps it was that deep husk in his voice that always made your pussy throb. But ever since he's moved here you've had your eyes on him.

You are under the impression that perhaps Negan was attracted you too. As he showers you with compliments every time you see him. There have also been a few times where you've caught him staring at you a little too long. And he's always searching for a reason to be able to "accidentally" touch you in some way.

However, he's never actually told you or made some sort of move. Though neither have you.

The reason being that you are still currently living with your parents. One of them is always around which makes it difficult for you to try and flirt with him. You don't want your parents to know that you're attracted to your older neighbor. What would they think if they found out? Certainly they would disapprove. What makes the matter even worse is that Negan is really good friends with your father. So.. double yikes.

Still, you're always looking for the perfect opportunity to make a move on him.

Luckily for you, your parents are going out of town this weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Your father took another day off from work so that they can come back on Monday. That way they have more time to spend alone together. So there had never been a better opportunity for you than now.

Negan's got a hot tub in his backyard. He had it installed last year. On cool, windy nights he's often in there. In nothing but his black swim trunks, with a glass of whiskey in his hand. You know this all too well because you have a perfect view of it from your bedroom window. It would be embarrassing to admit how many times you've looked out of your window to see if he was out there. Not that you're a total stalker. Only staring at him for no more than a few seconds before carrying on with your day. But man, seeing his wet body sure does make everything better. That broad, hairy chest and those toned, tattooed arms glistening from the water. You've certainly fantasized about being with him in that spa plenty of times. Straddling his lap and making out with him until one of you takes it further.

Negan had said that your parents or even the three of you could go over to use it anytime you wanted. Your parents had went together a couple times. You didn't want to feel like a third wheel, so you didn't go when they invited you. There wasn't any way you would go by yourself, as it doesn't seem appropriate. However, now that your parents are going out of town for a while.. perhaps you could make something work with that.

//

Thursday evening.

Your father and Negan are sitting on the patio, having a couple of beers. When Negan asks about weekend plans, your father tells him about their anniversary getaway. How this is their 25th year together and they wanted to do something special. They are going to be staying at a luxury, spa hotel next to the lake. Spending the entirety of their time there relaxing by the water, drinking expensive wine, and getting full body massages.

"That sounds very nice, the two of you will have a great time." Negan offers his thoughts on the matter. "Twenty five years? That's fucking remarkable."

"Yeah, thanks. We're really looking forward to it." Your father replies before downing the rest of his bottle. "Hey, y/n!" He calls for you from outside.

You poke your head out, briefly locking eyes with Negan and giving him a nod before looking at your father. "Yeah?"

"Could you grab me another beer, sweetheart?"

Negan leans forward, holding his bottle up. "Make that two, would you?"

You go to retrieve them and your father asks Negan if he has anything going on this weekend.

Negan takes the last sip of his beer, taking a second to ponder on it. "Do I have something to do? Uh no, not much." You come back outside with two beers in your hands. Walking over to them you hand your father his beer first as he was closer. "Think I'm gonna spend the weekend drinking and relaxing, myself." You go to give the other bottle to Negan. His hand reaches out to grab it as he keeps talking, "maybe take a dip in the hot tub." His fingers brush over yours as he takes the beverage. You look at him and he gives you a half smirk, "thank you darlin'."

"You're welcome." You smile back at him before turning around to go back inside. God, the tension you've just felt. Also, that pet name definitely made you blush.

Good thing your father was focused on popping opening his bottle and didn't notice the exchange. Because you were certainly burning up after that. Why does Negan keep doing that to you? Surely he must know the effect he has on you. And that mention about his hot tub was certainly a jab at you. Yeah.. he knows. He fucking knows!

//

Friday arrives.

You had work/studies the whole morning. But your parents spent the time getting everything ready for their trip. Making sure that they had their bags packed, and checking to see that things at home will be in order while they're gone. Once the afternoon rolls around, you are in the driveway waving your parents goodbye.

"Have a great time- and drive safe!" You call out just before they drive away.

Finally, you will be home alone for the next few days. Which means you'll have Negan all to yourself.

You've come up with a bold plan. Something risky. You are going to make the first move. Show him how very interested you are in him.

Negan had left his house shortly after the sun had went down. Which wasn't an issue for you, since that would make it much easier for you to carry out your plan.

You picked out the hottest, most revealing bikini that you own and booked it over to Negan's house. Making sure that none of the other neighbors see you before letting yourself in through the backyard gate. It wasn't new to you as you've already been here quite a few times for casual hangouts and such with your parents. But it's now the first time you been over here by yourself. It brings on a surge of adrenaline.

Taking the time you have to set the mood, you start up the spa. Turning on his radio and setting it on low to your local station that plays all the best love songs. After everything seems to be set, you take off your clothes and climb into the large tub. Settling into the water with a sigh. The water is hot and the jets feel amazing on your back. Now you know why Negan loves this thing so much, it's incredible!

Some time goes by before you ultimately hear the sound of a car pulling up front. You get up out of the water and sit on the edge of the tub. On the farthest one, that way you are facing the back door in which you anticipate Negan will come out from. There are lights being turned on inside, confirming that he's home. Your heart pounds faster in your chest when you realize they're getting closer. Then the light above you comes on, the door swings open, and out steps Negan.

The instant his eyes land on you he is visibly shocked. "What the hell- y/n? What are you doing here?"

His eyes travel down your entire body then snap back up to your face. You're wearing the tiniest fucking bikini he's ever seen, it's barely covering anything!

You bite your lip, looking him up and down. He's got on a fitted tshirt with some dark jeans, and his leather jacket folded over his arm. You grin at him before reply, "hi Negan. I hope you don't mind that I came over for a dip, since you said I could anytime." Using one hand to brace yourself on the tub, you lean back and spread your legs. Running the other hand teasing up your thigh. "I'd really like it if you'd join me."

He speaks to you with a mixture of anger and urgency, "damn it y/n, this seriously isn't the-" Something cuts him off.

"Hey, there you are." A woman suddenly steps out of the house looking for Negan. You quickly close your legs, startled by this new woman's presence. Her gaze immediately widens at you before turning towards him, "I'm sorry, who's this?"

This is one of the most embarrassing things that could have ever happened to you. Clearly she saw you flirting lewdly with Negan. You search around desperately for something to cover up, but there's nothing nearby. The lower half of your body is frozen in place and refuses to move. So you sit there awkwardly. Managing to get out, "shit, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't realize you had company."

The woman still stares at Negan, expecting an answer. He sighs, "this is my neighbor. She lives right next door. Look I swear, I didn't know she would come over like this. But I know her parents and we'll find a way to deal with this."

He looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, which crushes you even more. You wish you could just go back to prevent this from happening.

The woman still appears uneasy about the whole situation, and rightfully so. You've just completely interrupted their evening. She motions towards the door, "yeah I think I'm going to go. You obviously have something here you need to take care of and I really don't want to stay for that."

Negan swears under his breath, shaking his head before replying. "Yeah, I understand."

He opens the door so she can go inside and grab her things. As she goes in, he directs his attention towards you. "Stay right there. Don't you go anywhere, young lady."

You give him an apologetic nod and he steps in after the woman. Sinking back into the water as it gives you some form of coverage. This sucks. It seriously does. Now you're worried that he's going to tell your parents about this, fuck! You use the time to come up with something, to beg him not to tell on you.

A minute or so goes by before the opening of the door catches your attention. Negan steps outside. He takes a few steps towards you, then plants his feet and crosses his arms. He looks beyond pissed. "Well then, would you mind telling me what the fuck you think you're doing?"

You tense up, unable to make or hold eye contact with him. Instead choosing to stare down at the water in front of you. "I-I'm really sorry, Negan. I shouldn't have come over like this."

"No you shouldn't have, this is highly inappropriate." He berates you more. "And you know that. What the hell were you thinking?"

Tears start to form in your eyes. You feel like a dog that's being scorned for peeing on the carpet. "I know it is, and I'm so sorry.. But I promise to never do it again. I'll just go home okay. P-Please don't tell my parents about this."

Negan clicks his tongue sharply at that. "Shit I don't know. There's a lot you did that I can't just let go. Breaking into my backyard, using my stuff without asking, wearing practically nothing and then opening your legs in front of me like a fucking slut."

You miss the way his tone changes towards the end of that last sentence. "I sincerely apologize, and especially for ruining your date. I didn't mean to do that. I won't do it ever again."

He exhales heavily. "Look at me."

You muster up enough courage to bring your gaze up towards him. He looks hot when he's mad. And you hate to admit it, but his scolding gives your core a pleasant sensation. It's a strange feeling, you're unsure how to describe it. Your thighs squeeze together as a result of that. Negan seems to have caught on to that as well.

"I guess I don't have to tell your folks about any of this," he starts. "And I won't tell them, if you get back up that ledge and spread those legs again."

"I'm- you want me to do what?" You reply shakily. Not sure whether you heard him correctly or not. But that heavy look in his eyes tell you that he was dead serious.

"I said get back on that Goddamn ledge and spread those pretty fucking legs for me. You want me to keep my mouth shut, don't you?"

A shiver rattles your spine at his words. You nod, "mhm."

He gives a hum. "What are you waiting for, then? Get your ass up there."

You emerge from the water and sit right back where you were before. Doing as you're told and opening your legs. Shame and arousal mix together pleasantly throughout your body when you notice his gaze trailing over every part of your body.

Negan gives a wolf whistle, "Hot damn that is a wonderful sight to see." He is at the other side of the tub now, leaning against it to get a better view. "Now do me a favor and undo those straps, sweetheart. I wanna see it all."

Using your hand you release every strap of your bikini. Starting first with the top, then the bottoms. Letting the articles fall onto the floor behind you. You are now completely naked, your plush breasts and warm cunt on full display before Negan.

He licks his lips, "shit baby, you look absolutely fucking gorgeous." There is a tent at the front of his pants, indicating that he's getting hard from the sight of you. He removes his own clothing, stripping down to his boxers. Then he climbs into the tub, sitting at the opposite end of you. "Go on and touch yourself."

Your fingers move to your clit, drawing circles at a teasing- yet pleasurable pace. Inserting them into your aching hole then bringing them back to smear your wetness around your bud. Releasing moans and whimpers that are music to Negan's ears.

He runs his own hand over his bulge. His breath is getting heavier, "is this how you touch yourself when you're thinking about me?"

"Yes," you nod, admitting that you do.

"Yeah, I bet you think about me every time huh? Thinking about my fingers instead of your own inside you. Sitting that pretty ass on my face while I eat that pussy. Or my cock slamming in and out of you as I fuck you dumb. Is that right baby?"

Your hips stutter as you listen to every filthy word that left his mouth. "God, yes.. I think about you all the time Negan. I want you s-so bad."

A chuckle leaves his lips. "I know you do." He leaves the wall and comes closer to you. His hazel eyes filled with lust. "And you wanna know something? I want you too." Standing directly before you, he places his large palms on your thighs. Gliding them up to your stomach. "I've wanted you for so long, you have no fucking idea how crazy it drove me." He brings his face closer to where his lips are almost touching yours. "And now that I've got you all to myself I'm gonna take my time and enjoy every second of it."

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. Slipping his tongue into your welcoming mouth, you can taste the whiskey that he'd been drinking. The roughness of his beard scratches pleasantly against your soft skin while he devours you. One of his hands caresses your breasts as he trails wet kisses and marks down your neck. Pulling back slightly to look at your breast when he rubs and pinches at your peaked nipple. "You've got some nice tits." He states, taking it into his mouth to suck on the bud.

Your fingers run through his hair while he sucks marks on to your chest. Meanwhile your core is aching for some attention, your hips press against him. "Negan, please."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Look at you squirming for me. Don't worry, I'm gonna give you what you need." Sliding further down your body, he brings his face to your pelvis. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, wasting no more time as he buries his face in your eager cunt. He licks a long strip up your slit towards your clit, letting out a deep groan. "Fuck, your pussy tastes amazing." He laps at you a few more times before his tongue travels upward to lick and suck on your clit. Inserting two of his thick fingers into your dripping entrance, he begins pumping them in and out of you. Skillfully curling them against that spot that immediately gets you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Oh f-fuck, right there- please." You moan, right on the verge of sweet release. Trying hard not to be too loud as to not alert any of the neighbors.

He can feel by the tightening of your walls that you are about to cum. "Go ahead baby, cum all over my face."

His approval was everything you needed. Your orgasm gushes out of you while you let go with a strained cry. Negan laps it up with a satisfied hum. There's a shift in his eyes when he looks up at you, they're darker. Hungrier. Once you come back down from the high you bring your focus to his cock, straining to get out of his drenched boxers. The article sticking to his skin, giving a gorgeous outline of his manhood. You reach down, palming it. The action making him hiss.

"Want something, darlin'?"

You reach under the waistband to fully grasp his hardened member. Stroking it while whispering, "I want this.. want you."

"Good, because I need to feel that pussy around my dick now." He snatches you off from the edge, turning you around and bending you over it. Tugging down the rest of his boxers, he pulls out his cock. He lines himself up with your entrance and slides right in, the intrusion making both of you groan. The water sloshes around more violently as he pounds into you. "Shit you're so fucking tight. Keep sucking me right in" He pants while thrusting into you. You moan in ecstasy, not able to do much but lay there and take his cock. He leans over you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head to the side so he can talk in your ear. "Such a dirty fucking girl you are. I wonder what your old man would think if he found out, hm? That you snuck over here and let me fuck you like the horny little slut that you are."

You let out a loud cry in response, your spongy walls clamping tighter down on him. "I.. I don't know." Was all you manage to mutter out.

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, brushing past your sensitive skin. "Oh you don't? Maybe I should ask him then."

"No!" You nearly scream out loud. "Don't tell him, please!"

His brutal thrusting doesn't falter, slamming into you balls deep every thrust. "I won't if you promise to be a good girl and cum on my cock."

"God yes- yes! I promise to cum all over your cock."

His hand snakes in front of you to rub firmly on your clit. The extra stimulation making your body tremble uncontrollably under him. You are so close to cumming and so is he, but he needs you to let go first. He urges you on, "that's it baby, cum for me."

"Ohh fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your eyes roll back and you finally cum. Cunt squeezing down hard on his cock and milking him of his own orgasm. He pulls out of you just in time to shoot his load all over your back. Releasing a deep groan as he paints your skin with his warm, milky seed.

"Holy shit," Negan laughs breathlessly. The two of you stay there for a few seconds to catch your breaths. He is the first to move, "alright stay right here. I'm gonna get something to clean you up." He exits the spa, going to collect a towel from the towel rack. Stepping back in he uses the article to wipe your pussy and the cum from your back. Making sure you are nice and clear before tossing the soiled cloth on to the floor. He taps you lightly, "all done."

"Thank you," you return coming off the edge and settling down next to him in the relaxing water. Both naked and satisfied.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, giving you a sweet peck on your lips. "That was fucking incredible."

"Mm, sure was." You sigh contentedly, resting your head on his chest.

His thumb brushes affectionately against your arm. "It looks like I've got you all to myself for the next couple of days."

"What happens after that?"

He gives a half smirk. "We'll figure that out later. But you are mine and I'm not giving you up, that's for damn sure."

You grin widely at his answer.

[joonsytip]

All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[iwritethingssometimes]

I'm seeing some posting about a feeling of fishiness about the recently completed US Election.

In the attempt to do something more productive than my last post, I'm gonna do an adhoc examination of how feasible I think a "rigged election" actually is, looking at a few methods that could have been used. So, to start with, what is the actual evidence here?

Most of it is... honestly vibes based, which I get, but don't put a lot of stock in, There was a lot of energy around the Harris campaign, and she had some good polls, but Donald Trump has proved nothing else in the past fucking decade, its that the polls literally do not matter for him, and he can outperform them by a hundred miles.

But. There's also some numbers.

None of this has been verified yet, and I want to make that clear, but this year has largely reported record turnout in a ton of states, especially the swing states, and yet, so far.

The number of votes seems much lower this year.

Not republican votes, not democrat votes, all votes. Hell, third party voting collapsed this year--whatever else you take from this election, this was not a case of the left splitting the vote.

Now, it's true that the vote count hasn't been completed, and it's possible that the numbers will make more sense once that's done. It's also true that the states didn't have quite the same turn-out as last year... but it was only a percentage point or two lower.

Add that to the frequent postings about people having their ballots rejected for... questionable reasons, and.

Well. It starts going from a "the moon is fake!" conspiracy to "Epstein had sex slaves" conspiracy.

But, okay, is it even possible for Trump to have faked the vote like this? People talked about it, but it was mostly in terms of legal challenges trying to overturn a Harris victory, or pulling in the supreme court to decide narrow districts. This, by all accounts, seems to be a straight forward Trump sweep.

So if there is shenanigans afoot, how could he have done it?

There's three feasible(ish) pathways, in my opinion:

Voter suppression and manipulation pre-ballot: Yeah this happened. It's also irrelevant to any possibility that the vote counts were tampered with. Look, this election was flooded with misinformation, legal suits, court cases, and election officials doing everything in their power to fuck with people's right to vote. It was filled with ballot boxes being lit on fire. Elon Musk did a fucking paid vote scheme! Of course there was voter suppression! But there always is, and although it was worse this year than many others, it wouldn't cause any numerical mismatch between turn out and votes, and there's not much that can be done now for this election. Even if someone voted because Musk slipped them $100, no court will ever be able to prove they didn't just happen upon $100 bucks and then voted for Trump.

Voting machines were manipulated: A few hours ago I would have said this was practically impossible, but apparently a bunch of election officials and cyber-security experts were sounding the alarm about this a few months ago, so, uh. That being said, I've seen people claiming that Starlink or whatever hacked voting machines, and no. No, Starlink did not hack voting machines. No one "hacked" voting machines. They weren't connected to the internet, or any wireless communication systems, because anyone with any degree of cybersecurity knowledge will tell you that's how you create an insecure system. Now, it's not impossible, technically speaking, than Elon Musk or fucking Russia managed to hire engineers and somehow bribe enough officals to get access to the machines and install hardware that would allow external access, but in that case we live in a Bond movie and somehow have bigger problems. So, if the voting machines themselves were compromised in any technological way, it would have required direct, physical access, which should be basically impossible, unless...

Ballot officials fucked with the vote This is the one I think is plausible. Basically, in this case, what could have happened is that various election officials at different levels of the process more or less lied about the vote count. This could have happened in a lot of different ways--they could have found reasons to reject mail-in ballots, which several states attempted to make legal, they could have found reasons to reject in-person ballots, which several states attempted to make legal. They could have, if the corruption ran deep enough to make this feasible, just... not counted or reported votes that swung for Harris. They could have, if the election machines work similar to the ones up here in BC, seen the results from the machines, then called the central election office over the phone--because remember, the ballot boxes should not be connected to anything. I don't know. There's a lot of options, and it varies from state to state, because remember, each state runs their own elections, and has their own rules and procedures.

So yeah, three explanations, only one of which is really plausible.

Now, I want to be clear, I don't think this election was fraudulent. Not yet, at least, I need to see actual evidence, or this is nothing more than a theory, but I also want to be clear.

...3 makes sense.

3 would explain why urban areas seemed to be underrepresented in this election, while rural areas surged. 3 would explain a discrepancy between voter turn out and votes counted. 3 would fit the strategy Trump and MAGA loyalists have been describing for the last four years, of infiltrating the election machinery and manipulating it to their own ends.

So I'm not saying it's likely that Trump fucked with the vote, not without evidence. Not yet.

But I will say this looks a hell of a lot more plausible than any claims made in the aftermath of the 2020 election.

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[mockerycrow]

I bet Gaz likes to try and sleep in with you, like he wakes up early but groans and grumbles and buries his face into your neck (he likes hearing you laugh when he does it)

Soft Moments: Gaz Edition (GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist

The third installment of my mini soft moments series <3 Ghost will be next. Ialso, friendly reminder to support the cod gif creators of the fandom, like yumethefrostypanda above!! gifs get stolen too easily. pls pls pls go support them.

consider buying me a ko-fi? no pressure, i’m new to this but i gotta pay for college 😵‍💫

[WARNINGS: Fluff!!]

Kyle has been in the military for a bit now, so his routines are engrained in his brain. Even as he’s on temporary leave, he struggles to break out of the routine he’s followed for years—and that includes the time when his body naturally wakes him up, which is always earlier than he would like, especially because he spends nearly all of his time on leave with you. Kyle also wears a watch that vibrates at a certain time in the morning to assure he’s up, and it often wakes you up as well as you two are often intertwined together in bed. Kyle’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he awakens, bright and early at 5 AM like usual. It takes him a moment to realize he’s awoken, but he quietly groans and tugs your body closer to his as he doesn’t want to get up.

He inhales quietly and deeply, your scent filling his lungs that nearly puts him back to sleep. Your head is stuffed under his chin and into his neck, and he feels your hands shuffle and move under his shift, limply resting against his bare back. Kyle loves the pressure of your body pressing against his, it’s comforting and relaxing, especially when he holds his breath to feel your chest expand against his. Instead of being back at the barracks, waking up wrapped in a cheap, thin blanket—being with you feels like a luxury. Kyle glances at his watch— 5:12 AM. 18 minutes until 5:30, 18 minutes until his watch begins to buzz. Kyle huffs and shuffles down the bed to switch positions with you, so he’s leaning his head against your chest instead of the other way around.

He closes his eyes, might as well try to get some rest, right?

…

He isn’t sure if he actually fell asleep or not, but within the next moment that he’s aware of—his watch begins to vibrate. Kyle groans and you stir awake, soft “mhh” leaving your lips. He quickly turns off the vibrating alarm on his watch and he rubs his face into the crook of your neck, clearly upset about both waking you up and keeping himself up. “Kyle..” You whisper, your voice hoarse from being awakened from your deep sleep. Your hand comes up and cups the nape of his neck, your thumb brushing against his skin. Kyle melts and hums in response before he mutters, “Go back to sleep, love.”

You slowly inhale and you stretch your body out, your lower body trembling for a few seconds as your ears block out some noise. “I don’t wanna,” You rasp. “Not when I get to see you like this.” Kyle’s felt his face burn and he lets out a weak laugh, gently pinching the back of your neck in an attempt as retaliation, but in reality it just massages the nape of your neck. He tries to shush you but you hum over his noises before you whisper, “You’re so cute like this. Especially when your third alarm goes off.. Which will be soon, hm?”

Kyle can’t stop himself from smiling, but he certainly tries to keep it a secret as he buries his face harsher against your neck and your shoulder, muttering “stop” in a lighthearted tone. Your other hand that isn’t touching his neck goes to his back, and you run your fingertips up and down his back, sending a nice shiver up his spine that melts through into his bones. “You don’t need to get up so early, y’know?” You whisper, pressing a kiss against his head—or at least to where you could reach. Kyle grumbles and shifts a bit, his eyes remaining shut as he begins to feel tired once again. “You also know I can’t help it, sweetheart.” He responds, his voice gritty as he begins to welcome sleep once again. You only chuckle in response, and you don’t talk after that as you can tell he’s finally falling back asleep, which is extremely rare for him. You continue to run your fingertips up and down his back.

He lets out a soft snore.

“And why don’t you look at that? You’re asleep.” You whisper, barely audible. He doesn’t stir so you kiss his head again, and close your own eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy this moment with Kyle pressed against you.

[bring-backup-99]

Before It Gets Too Late

PAIRING: tech x fem reader

SUMMARY: You spend a fun and special day with Tech, starting with a flying lesson that takes an unexpected turn. There’re fluffy times but mostly sexy times. (I’m trying to support and comfort my Tech people during this dark period.)

WORDS COUNT: 1926

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, very spicy, porn with minimal plot, PiV, rough sex, probably bad flight mechanics

NOTES: This is installment twenty-two of my reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, but I think it’s also a nice stand-alone Tech story. Although it’s written in second person, my heroine has a very established relationship with the Batch.

Everything was going fine until a large flock of flying creatures shot out of the canopy in a wide column directly into the ship’s path. You were too close to simply fly around them, and every other usual option you could think of would leave hundreds of them dead and the ship with possible light damage.

So without a second thought, you killed the thrusters while sending the ship in a tight turn, the nose pointed at the column. A quick tap of the port thruster has you cleared of the animals, with what you hoped were minimal casualties, then you reinitialized the main thrusters and resumed your disrupted flight path.

For a full minute, there was silence to your left. Finally, “It appears that flying lessons were unnecessary.”

“That was never the question,” you hedged. “You asked if I would like you to give me lessons. You didn’t ask if I knew how to fly. I answered honestly.” And this was your third time out.

“But with a glaring omission,” Tech huffs at you.

“Don’t be angry at me. I was very curious as to how you would be as a flight instructor, and I would not have received the same response if you had known.” What you do know is that this is logic he won’t be able to argue with.

He hmphs at you again, but you can tell he’s not really upset.

“That was an interesting maneuver you performed.”

“A modified ‘Tech turn.’ Seemed like the best option for minimizing death and destruction.” You pause for a moment, then you look at him. “It can’t be, right? The ‘Tech turn’…” You trail off as you see the corners of his lips turn up to an actual smile.

“That is not what it is called.”

“I’m going to fuck your so hard as soon as we land.”

“I was contemplating something similar.”

He doesn’t take the controls from you, but you sit quietly for a while.

“I’m not great at mechanics. You could teach me that?” you offer.

“Specifically define ‘not great’,” he asks.

“I definitely couldn’t fully repair this ship, but I am unable to give you a rundown of which systems I am deficient in. That’s the best I can do.”

“That…is acceptable.”

*

Almost as soon as the ship touches down in the tree-lined clearing, you are on each other. He lets you push him back down in his pilot’s chair, straddling him while your lips devour his with kisses. You groan in frustration as you try to divest him of his various layers of clothing, but you’re too eager and your fingers can’t find all the buckles and straps.

Want. Need. They course through you. You need his skin against yours. Finally, he takes pity, gently stops your fumbling, and slowly removes all the items covering his torso, your desperate whimpering doing nothing to hurry him. Then he lifts off your shirt. Your bodies crash together again. He kisses along your neck, down to your breasts, cupping them, licking your nipples. You throw your head back and cry out, your hands stroking over his head and neck; then fingernails scrape down his back, feeling his taut muscles.

“Against the wall,” you groan. Moments later, you’re both naked, and your back is to the one bare metal plate in the cockpit. Tech drops to a knee in front of you, places your leg over his arm, and targets your clit in a focused and aggressive attack.

“Fuck! FUCK!” you scream as, mere minutes later, you come. And then he lifts you, burying himself deep inside you, pounding into you, your pussy still twitching in pleasure.

Every rough, hard thrust is accompanied by his grunts, and you loudly proclaim your satisfaction, your voice echoing through the ship. You want Tech to do this, need him to do this, to take his pleasure from your willing body. He captures your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, his other hand gripping your ass, fingers pressed into your flesh, pinching, bruising. He kisses you, mauling your lips, and when he breaks away, you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

He gasps, releasing your wrists, and takes a strong hold of your ass and thighs, angling you for deeper, feral thrusts. Your arms encircle his neck and shoulders. You want him like this, desperate for you, as if no one else could give this to him. An animalistic groan emanates from him as his cock ravages you until finally a full throated cry signals his climax and he holds himself deep inside of you, and you feel his hot cum pump into you.

Neither of you move, the only sounds your gasping breaths as you each try to take in enough air.

“Mmmm,” you finally manage. “That was excellent.” You smile, then lick a drop of sweat from his neck.

“Yes,” he says, a slight gleam in his eye, “Quite satisfactory.”

* You lie in a bunk together, your head on his shoulder, a hand idly stroking his chest.

“Why did you not disclose to me that you did not need flying lessons? Your skill level is clearly quite adequate.”

You suck in your breath. I wanted to spend time with you outside of my bedroom. I wanted to know who you are when we’re not fucking. I wanted to be on this ship with you when you could be focussed on me. I wanted… So many wants, as if you can’t be happy with what you have.

“It’s been a long time since I flew. I wasn’t sure that I didn’t need them…at least as a refresher.” You hesitate. “Are you angry at me?...slightly perturbed?

“I am not. And at least they were not a waste of time.” His fingers run up and down your arm.

“No,” you agree.

Tech looks down at you, watching your hand move along his skin. You have not asked him why he offered to teach you, which is for the best. Tech is worse at articulating his wants than you are.

*

You wake up alone in the bunk. It’s been awhile since the person you’d fallen asleep with wasn’t still beside you. The ship is dark, so it must be night. You get up, the floor cold under your feet, expecting to find Tech in the cockpit.

Instead, a drop-ladder is down from the midship overhead storage space.

“Tech?” You call up.

“Ah, you are awake,” you hear him say. “I was just coming down to collect you. Come up here.”

“Um, I’m naked?” You look around for your clothing and see nothing.

There’s a long pause. “It appears that I am nude as well…I do have blankets.”

You sigh and tentatively climb the ladder, then follow Tech’s voice to a maintenance hatch with another ladder that lets you out onto the ship’s fuselage. He takes your hand and leads you to where he’s laid out a large blanket over the cockpit. You feel awkward even though the warm night air is quite pleasant on your skin.

“What’s this all about?”

Tech helps you down onto the blanket, then points up. “The moons have just set, so we should have quite an excellent view of the Quadrillen meteor shower. I believe you expressed dissatisfaction with your ability to see this from the city.”

You look up and, after a few moments, you watch a meteor blaze across the sky. You hadn’t mentioned that you wanted to watch this to Tech. You and Crosshair had been discussing it. You hadn’t realized Tech was paying attention. You lie next to each other, mostly in silence, watching the light show.

“I must admit, I was skeptical at first, but this is quite a pleasant experience.”

“Skeptical? Why?”

“I have seen many natural phenomena during my travels in space. I did not think that the debris from a comet entering a planet's atmosphere would be particularly visually stimulating in comparison to what I have witnessed. But taken as a whole, this is quite an excellent experience.”

You laugh. “I suppose.” Smiling, you continue to watch as the little streaks fill the night, when suddenly three meteors scorch their way across the sky. You sit up excitedly and point. “That was amazing.” You look down at Tech. He has a slight smile on his face, then he pushes himself up and presses his lips to yours. His arms gather your body to him, one hand stroking in your hair, one at the small of your back. He takes your breath away with his kiss, drawing you down onto him.

This feels insane. Are you really going to fuck on top of the ship under the night sky? Turns out, yes, yes, you are.

You lie on him, enjoying the feel of his hot skin along your body. You kiss for a long time, until you can’t take it anymore, and whisper, “I need you. Please.” He helps you slide onto him, both of you gasping. You whimper; you’re a little sore but the sensation is too sweet. You lean forward, pressed chest to chest, as he pivots his hip to help you fuck him gently.

And when he carefully rolls you both so you can watch over his shoulder as the stars cascade out of the sky, you can’t help but think that this is all a little too ridiculous. He moves above you, long strokes that make your breath catch, and you cry out because sometimes he fits inside you perfectly.

You wrap your legs around him. “Yes, I like that. It feels so good. Just like that, Tech. Mmmm, just like that.”

Stars keep falling as he takes hold of your legs, angling you so his cock can thrust deeper. Your cries sound small as the trees surrounding you consume them.

You move together, one being working toward the same goal. Each stroke sends shivers through you until you feel your body full with warmth as a soft climax overtakes you, not nearly as intense as the one earlier, but somehow more satisfying.

He holds your hands, fingers intertwined, as he watches your face while the orgasm washes over you, drinking in those little noises you make that he so enjoys. He moves carefully as you finish, knowing you must be sore already, wanting you to still find pleasure as he nears his own climax.

And then you start whispering to him, “Come in me, Tech. I need to feel you inside me. I need it. I need you to come for me.” You move under him, insistent, demanding, so he has to surrender to you. He stiffens and gasps, his hot cum emptying in you. You wrap yourself around him as he collapses onto you, finally spent. You watch as the stars continue to fall through the blackness of the sky.

“We shouldn’t fall asleep up here.”

“Yes, that would be unwise.” He gingerly lifts himself off you. You roll and lie on his shoulder, watching the stars fall behind the trees. The air is cooling and you shiver. “Let us go back inside. You can continue watching from the cockpit, if you wish.”

“Tech.” He looks at you, while collecting the blankets. I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s why I lied.

“Thank you for tonight.” This was really special to me. I hope it was to you.

“Yes, this was very enjoyable.” He watches you as you climb down the hatch. I wish to do this again.

* But wait, there’s more:

The rest of the series can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky

[sunflowersunite]

Fantastic Beasts rewrite

I recently finished rewatching the third movie and I really really want to rant, but I don't like to be that person. So I'll do you one better, I'll just throw suggestions as to how this series could have been better. feel free to disagree or add your own.

Plot!

Magical animals still have many uses within the magical world, but no rights because we're in the 1920's. Show us how they're trafficked and exploited. Therefore, Newt could keep the spotlight as someone who wants to protect them as the series continues, and not have Dumbledore be protagonist, because he doesn't make for a compelling one all that much.

We already saw how the Quilin detects those who are pure of heart and determines the leader of the magical world. How about the Quilins are disposed of afterwards, for, I don't know, reasons. Superstition or custom. Maybe they make a new pelt for the leader. So Newt has to fight against that, and therefore he becomes more proactive.

Also the blood troth needs to be broken. That should have taken longer. How about only a specific very rare dragon's fire could burn it?? and therefore we use more of Newt's knowledge here??

2. Personal stakes. Unfortunately, there was no conflict between the heroes and the villains. Meaning, if Grindelwald did succeed in conquering the muggle world, none of the MCs would be personally affected. (not even Jacob, he could hide somewhere and he'd be fine, it's not like Grindelwald would look for him specifically). So, here's the deal:

because this is a fantastic beasts series, Newt remains the protagonist. So how about Grindelwald targets a specific magical creature, eg the aforementioned dragon, who is believed to not even be real? But Grindelwald has info that it is in fact real. Therefore he targets Newt, the only magizoologist, and the only one capable and determined enough to find it. He plans on striking Newt with all means necessary, have him running for his life from all governments. Framing him and targeting his animals just to get what he wants.

Also. Grindelwald wants Credence by his side, because of his Obscurial powers (which were hyped up in the first movie but then kinda deflated, unfortunately). It's easy to manipulate Credence, who's never had anyone care for him ever.

except Tina. Tina is canonically the one who Credence felt trust for. They could've become found family and I'll forever be angry about their wasted potential.

How about Grindelwald is aware that Tina is the one who could foil his plans and keep Credence on the good side due to their relationship, so he targets her specifically? He wants her out of the picture in order to manipulate Credence as much as he wants. He wants to kill her.

Tina fights him to save Credence and Newt fights him to save Credence and the animals.

Here! Grindelwald now has personal conflict with the main characters.

More conflict? Sure!

At the end of the third installment, instead of picking Dumbledore the Quilin picks Jacob, who is said throughout the whole movie to be pure of heart. (Let's say its powers work a little differently and it doesn't care whether it's a muggle it's picking because who ever tested it on muggles in the first place anyway?) How about it picks him, and as Grindelwald hates muggles, he now hates Jacob with a searing passion because the Quilin picked him as a ruler of the wizards? (exactly what he's against, mixing wizards and muggles). How about Grindelwald harbours animosity towards Jacob, not because he's a threat but because he symbolises what could beat Grindelwald? (a kind heart, one that both a wizard and a muggle could possess. and due to that common potential for goodness, which highlights that they aren't so different than the muggles, he gets even more passionate in his goal to eradicate them? just saying)

and let's have Queenie move to Grindelwald's side, that's interesting. Maybe they strike a deal when Tina is in grave danger (because as we said, Tina must die for Grindelwald to win). If Queenie joins him, Tina is safe, Grindelwald tells her (he's lying, but Queenie is desperate).

So Queenie has to choose between being with the man she loves and joining the wrong side of history (and possibly dying a monster), but saving her sister in the process.

She chooses the second.

the angst?? Queenie knowing she's doing the wrong thing but it's for the right reasons so now no one can convince her to return to the good side?? Not Tina, not Jacob, not anyone

Maybe she even becomes a spy, leaking Grindelwald's plans and putting herself in danger in the process.

And she tries to convince Credence to go back to the good side even if it's too late for her.

3. For the secondary characters:

Theseus still has power within the British Auror Office. He wants to use that power and counterattack, but for entirely selfish reasons. He hates Grindelwald for Leta's death and puts his own emotions before sensibility and the greater good.

Yusuf was never close with Leta and now he regrets it. He and Theseus both learn to heal together eventually, and Kama gets character development in the process because he felt rather flat.

I want Lally to be there too because I liked her. Maybe Theseus starts to catch feelings for her (am I delusional or did I sense some connection between them? idk) and he feels guilty, because he doesn't want to heal and move on from Leta. He wants to fuel his hatred for Grindelwald because he believes that that is what gives him the will and strength to fight. But eventually he realises that he won't beat him with hate, because Grindelwald is already perfect at hating others. He will beat him with love. (Cheesy but true). Any love. Between the brothers Scamander or the sisters Goldstein or the found family Tina - Credence or Newtina because I love them.

But Lally can do whatever she wants.

Honestly, that sounds pretty rad. I'd watch that movie.

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Parrot and Wifies have a talk some time after the fallout of Parrot finding out Wifies is a clone. A follow up to Ken's POV in Part 1.

notes: this is once again not edited, this was the result of some quick writing last night and a wrap up today. it's more like practice for Parrot's voice which i think i did a shit job at but it's here and u can now judge me urself. enjoy. or dont idk. divider from here

word count: 2568. just slightly less than the previous installment.

11:49

Parrot has picked through his feathers so many times he thinks he’s developing a bald spot in his left wing. He's usually better at waiting, has patience for his plans to go through, but today there is no plan, just waiting. He stares at his comm, open in his hand as he rereads the chat over and over again.

[Wifies]: Would you be open to talking with me today?

[Parrotx2]: yes

[Parrotx2]: of course

[Parrotx2]: what’s up

[Wifies]: I was actually wondering if we could meet up.

[Parrotx2]: yeah wherever you want

[Wifies]: I’ll open up my world.

[Wifies]: How does noon sound?

[Parrotx2]: perfect

[Wifies]: I’ll send you the IP then.

[Parrotx2]: great!

Great! He sounds like a loser.

So Parrot is waiting for the clock to strike noon on his comm to go. Part of him wonders if he's going to spawn into a pit, or straight into lava, or in an escape room, something that would make Wifies feel better to watch him go through after the hell Parrot raised. Parrot would be fine with that. Honestly, he hopes Wifies is mad. He's only going to feel worse if he's met with Wifies’s carefully thought out words and blunt kindness.

11:54

He stops touching his wings. He's been trying to organize his thoughts so he doesn't say something incredibly stupid to Wifies again. There’s a script now.

I’m sorry for reacting so harshly, I was shocked and didn’t know how to process what I was hearing. I felt hurt because I thought you didn’t trust me with the truth, but now I see why you wanted to keep it to yourself. I should have never acted that way. You’re so important to me, and I should have thought about all the trust between us. I always trust you.

11:55

It’s simple, but it’s straightforward, and he wants to be as clear as possible. He also wants to be sincere, but sincerity is scary. His sincerity is blue, bruised, gushes forward like an open wound and stains the world in his blood.

11:56

But he can do sincerity. He can do it for Wifies. He could probably do a lot for Wifies, but Wifies never asks for anything. He didn’t even ask to be freed from the chunkban. He just waited. Trusted Parrot, and waited for Parrot, and was happy to see Parrot after everything. Wifies is always trusting and waiting and happy.

11:57

And Parrot ruined it for what? Catharsis for his fears? A moment to let that horrible feeling of being second, third, fourth in someone's life tear through everything he’s done? Is that even the reason why?

11:58

God. When Wifies starts asking questions, Parrot is going to crumble like a house of cards. It'll be Parrot's unjust luck to be forgiven.

[Wifies]: IP XXXXXXXXXX

Parrot jolts and almost drops his comm. He scrambles to copy the IP down and flick through his comm settings. He pastes it into the server IP box and hovers over the connect button.

12:00

He clicks connect.

Landing softly onto a carpet of podzol in a chilly spruce forest, Parrot lets out a plume of ashen breath. There are a few cabins in a semicircle in front of him, warm light spilling out of each window and from the branches of the towering spruce trees. The afternoon sun barely breaches the canopy, but it speckles the ground just enough to give the world a surreal atmosphere.

There's a campfire pit to one side surrounded by log benches, and there sits Wifies. He looks brilliant in the firelight, dark hair loose without his headband and violet eyes muted.

“Parrot,” Wifies calls out as he stands up. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Parrot says lamely, hesitating for a moment before making his way over to Wifies. The campfire warms him up, but the chill doesn't go away. “How are you?”

“It’s going to rain soon, so I’m feeling it in my joints,” Wifies says, lighthearted as he rubs one of his shoulders. “Sit with me.”

So Parrot does. He’s not in the business of denying Wifies much of anything. He sits on one end of the log bench, and Wifies sits two feet away, turned towards Parrot, and Parrot looks at him, and his mind just— it blanks. His script dissolves like salt in the sea.

“I wanted to start with saying that I am a clone of the original Wifies,” Wifies says, giving Parrot space to try and reboot his brain. “He was. . . making clones for the sake of content, and I was the most successful one. I never knew. And one day, Ken showed up to what I thought was my single player world, and. . . it’s a very long story, but he got me out of there and we, um, we killed the original. He. . . wasn’t going to let me just leave. And those are the main points of my story. I just wanted you to know the important bits before we talk further.”

“Clones for content,” Parrot echoes, eyebrows scrunching up. “Clones for content? He was— what?”

“Making clones to put them into escape rooms for quick video production.”

“The— what the fuck?”

Wifies smiles awkwardly, but doesn’t speak again. He keeps rubbing his shoulder over and over, self soothing maybe, or maybe it’s just that painful from the onset of the rain.

“I'm sorry for how I acted. I don’t care that you’re a clone,” Parrot says, flinching at his own sharpness. He looks away and into the crackling fire. “I care about you. The clone stuff is— is whatever. Or not whatever, I’ll care about it as much as you want me to care about it.”

“Parrot, don’t make me promises you know you can’t keep.”

Wifies’s voice is gentle. It is so, so gentle, with no hint of disappointment or scolding. Parrot’s stomach churns. He wishes again for Wifies’s anger, pointed and cold, instead of this. Anger is easy. This stings like salt in a wound.

“Why do you think I can’t keep to that?”

“Not knowing drives you crazy.”

“You not being there has driven me more crazy.”

“Until you forget, and it starts bothering you again.”

Parrot deserves it, but his heart is heavy and he feels like he’s been shot right through it. Wifies isn’t even being cruel, just honest; he’s right, eventually it will drive Parrot crazy to not be able to talk about the whole situation, to understand Wifies better by prying into his life.

“I don’t like talking about it. It was a bad time for me. I also don’t know everything about. . . myself. About what you’ll eventually ask.”

Parrot has to physically bite his tongue. Wifies doesn't know everything. What if he gets sick? Or badly hurt? What if he starts feeling like something is wrong, and there's nothing to be done for it, because nobody knows? What if—

“This is why I never want to tell anyone,” Wifies sighs out, curling in on himself in the corner of Parrot’s eyes. “If nothing else, just promise me you won't tell anyone?”

“Never,” Parrot says firmly. That's a promise he can keep. “I would never.”

“Thank you, Parrot.”

Their conversation tapers off. The sunlight is disappearing little by little, the promised rain clouds rolling in from far away, far above. Parrot’s feathers puff up a bit at a slight, churning breeze that cuts through the forest.

“I'm sorry, for what it's worth. For lying this whole time.”

“I see why you did. I just ended up proving why lying was the right choice. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“It's funny,” Wifies says in a voice that promises to be anything but funny. “When I'm scared, everything hurts again. I can never remember how they got here, but all the little pains come back again, like the reminder of fear should pull a memory or two up. But there's nothing. I don't remember how I hurt my shoulder this badly. I don't remember how it got fixed. All I remember is that it’s hurt forever. I don't remember a life without pain, and when this all came to light, my reality went from a life where pain existed to a life that was lived with pain.”

Rain begins to dribble through the leaves around them. The campfire hisses and sparks but doesn't extinguish, too large and hot to be daunted by such a pathetic display. The canopy is too dense for the rain to punch through in earnest.

“What are you scared of?” Parrot forces himself to ask. Please don't be afraid of me.

“Losing another part of my life to this. I can never seem to escape the factory. What a lousy escapist I've become, huh?”

Wifies pulls his feet up into the log, resting his chin on his knee and watching the fire. Parrot doesn't remember turning towards him, but he inches closer. The space between them is too large. His hand is too far from Wifies’s own.

“You don't have to lose anything,” Parrot says. “There's nothing to be lost. You can always come back to the server. Nobody there will ever know except for Ken.”

“No matter how this plays out, I lose you.”

“I'm right here. I'm right next to you, right now, what do you mean?”

Parrot feels pathetic, but he doesn't care. Wifies won't look at him, is talking about losing him like Parrot isn't about to crawl out of his skin just so Wifies won't leave him again. The rain thickens the air around them with the promise of more force, and Parrot stretches a wing over Wifies’s head without a single thought.

“You'll always think about the fact I'm a clone. I lost my status of human. I lost our relationship. It took so long for me to feel normal, and now it's all gone.”

“Wifies, look at me please.”

Wifies does. He does, because he still cares, and Parrot is going to be sick at the resigned look in Wifies’s eyes. Parrot is close enough now, so he reaches out and holds Wifies’s face in both hands. He can feel the way Wifies’s jaw works, the thrum of his slow heartbeat in his throat, the way his breathing is shallow and quick. His eyes are a little glassy, a little red, and Parrot adds another wretched tally to the list of times he's made Wifies cry.

“No matter what, you are human, okay? To me, and to Ken, and I'm sure to whoever you were talking to that day as well. Don't ever doubt that.”

Wifies’s expression softens and he just barely nods, which is a small relief for Parrot.

“All I ever think about when you're gone is when you're coming back,” Parrot says. His sincerity bleeds, red and blue smudged across each word. He’ll bleed for them, every drop if that’s what it takes. “And all I've been thinking about this whole time is how I'm going to make it up to you. How I really, really want to do whatever it takes for you to stay. I want you to stay. And not a single one of those thoughts had anything to do with whether you're a clone or not.”

Wifies breathes in. It shakes something horrible. Parrot will crawl his way back into being trusted until he has no more body to move with.

“All of those thoughts had to do with how you've always been with me. Funny, kind, snarky, quick, the only person in this world I've ever been able to close my eyes next to knowing that I've got everything I need right there. That the only way I'll ever be apart from you is by being torn. And none of that, none of it, has changed. I still think all that about you. All that's been added is that I'm an asshole who definitely doesn't deserve your loyalty, but I'm too greedy to let it go so easily.”

That makes Wifies giggle, the sound wet and cracking. Parrot presses the pads of his thumbs under Wifies's eyes. If he's going to make Wifies cry, the least he can do is clean it up too.

“The only thing I ever need you to do is believe in me,” Parrot says, pressing his lips to Wifies’s forehead. It's easier somehow to speak like this, wetness pooling against Parrot’s fingers. “Believe that I love you so much. Believe that I'm going to make this right between us. Believe that learning this has done nothing to change how I feel about you. And if you can't, please believe in me anyway.”

“Of course I believe in you Parrot,” Wifies murmurs, voice crackling. “Why else would I follow you everywhere?”

“I'm that persuasive?”

“Hardly.”

“Hey, not even a little?”

Wifies laughs. It’s a sweet sound. When Parrot pulls back to look, Wifies has his eyes closed, and he’s not quite smiling, but he’s not frowning either, which is a win. 

“You’re determined and direct,” Wifies says, letting the full weight of his head loll into Parrot’s hands. Parrot raises his other wing so they're encompassed by green and red and blue. “Which is what made me agree to help you at first. But then. . . I don’t know. You can be charming when you want to be. Not often, but on occasion.”

Parrot squawks indignantly just to hear Wifies laugh again. Wifies blinks his eyes open, and Parrot wipes away a stray tear.

“Do you know how touchy you are?” Wifies asks suddenly.

“Should I let go?”

“No, I just wonder if you know that. When you were upset, you made a real effort to not reach out. That’s how I knew it was serious.”

“Well, now you know it’s not serious.”

“Mm, this is serious too in its own way. You’re serious that you want me to stay.”

Parrot lifts Wifies’s head so that they’re eye to eye, bloodshot violet to his own green-blue blur, and says, “Deadly serious. I don’t want to be separated like this again. Knowing I had hurt you and couldn’t make it better? The absolute worst time of my life, I think.”

“It sucked,” Wifies agrees, finally cracking a smile. “It’s over now though. I think.”

“Of course it's over now, you're never allowed to leave me like that again,” Parrot scolds him entirely lighthearted and Wifies snorts.

“Don't yell at me again and I won't.”

“I won't, I'm sorry for yelling.”

Wifies laughs again, and despite the fact he's clearly reveling in having Parrot wrapped around his finger like this, Parrot can't even pretend to be annoyed. Wifies won't leave him again. It's all that matters right now. Any question or doubt dies a quiet death when Wifies reaches up to hold both of Parrot’s wrists in a loose grip.

“This is weirdly nice,” Wifies says, closing his eyes again. “I don't think anyone's ever touched my face so gently. I can't remember the feeling.”

“You just say when,” Parrot replies.

He's not being entirely selfless here— there's something soothing about running the pads of his thumbs over Wifies’s skin, like a promise that this moment is as real as when he left. Wifies can't leave him when they're like this, tangled up under Parrot’s wings under the rain.

“Then for just a bit longer,” Wifies says, and Parrot agrees. Just a bit longer.

[aziraphales-library]

Now that we've canonically met Crowley as an angel - are there any fics you feel portray his character before the fall particularly well (i.e., are similar to his portrayal in the show?)

Here are some angel Crowley fics written post-series two...

The Last Flight of the North Star by ghost_daddy (G)

In which Crowley talks to his past self in an attempt to get closure.

I still remember you (even if you have forgotten) by Maleniya (NR)

A fic about Aziraphale witnessing the trail of angel Crowley (Raphael), and how that affects him emotionally.

Love Me As I Am Not As I Was by Vicky87 (T)

Where, “restored to full Angelic status” didn't mean what the Angel thought it did.

An Archangel's Unsuccessful Guide to Heaven by thericochetarrow (G)

He looked at the box halfway hammered against the wall and the hammer in Raphael’s hand. “What are you doing?�� “Oh, this?” Raphael gestured at the box. “I’m installing a suggestion box.” Aziraphale blinked. “A… suggestion box?”

Aziraphale and Crowley's (formerly known as the Archangel Raphael) first few meetings up in Heaven, back when everything was fine, and the worst sin that anyone could commit was installing a suggestion box right outside the Metatron's office.

come raise your flag upon me by trinityofone (T)

“Would you care to do the honors?” the Metatron asks. Aziraphale persuades Crowley to accompany him to Heaven, to be Forgiven. Things get...weirder before they get better.

Starmaker and Starlight by NohaIjiachi (G)

“Uhm, excuse me--”

“Oh, it’s you!” the Angel replied, a delighted smile opening on their face once they’d turned toward Aziraphale with a curious blink, and Aziraphale felt something writhe somewhere in his core, like part of him did a happy little somersault. It felt so… Nice, not only being recognized (he did tend to fly under the radar, he knew. He just had one of those faces, you know), but also being welcomed with such open joy.

“Yes. Hello! again,” Aziraphale said with a little nervous laugh, promptly wishing to smack himself. Why did he always have to be so awkward? “I, ah, I was wondering if I could--”

“Suuuuure, com’here!” the Angel replied, self assured and so very confident, the exact opposite of all Aziraphale was. They vaguely waved their hand, and a second little cloud of stardust appeared at their side, sparkling and ever churning with pink and purple hues. “The view from here is the best, get yourself comfortable!”

--

Aziraphale is lucky enough to meet the nebula Angel a second time, and then a third, and then... Well. The rest is history.

- Mod D

[callsign-dexter]

Gossip and Glances

Request: Oh wait ! 

How about a little sequel to the previous Antonio imagine where they arrive together in the office and also during the day everyone makes conclusions about the marks on your neck or how Tonio hisses when he leans back on his chair due to the scratches? 🤭🤭 you also don't need to do this, it was just a little funny thinking in my head 😊

Pairings: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Warnings: mentioned smut, fluff

Masterlist

Prolog: From Colleagues to Lovers

Sequel: Gossip and Glances

Third Installment: Flirting with Risk

The next morning you both woke up together and when you two looked at each other both of you couldn’t help but smile. You both had sweet passionate sex and finally confessed your feelings for one another and you couldn’t be happier. Now that you all had officially confessed and officially became a couple. As you were laying there looking at each other and enjoying the moment the sudden realization of having to go to work you both were like a freight train. You sighed and he looked at you. “Is there something wrong?” He asked as he put a piece of untamed hair behind your ear.

“We have to start getting ready for work.” You said and he nodded but then you remembered that you didn’t have any of your clothing here and that made your face fall, Antonio noticed this.

“What’s up with the frown?” He asked

“I don’t have any of my clothing here or necessities here.” You said and he chuckled.

“I’m sure we can make something work. I also have an extra toothbrush.” He said and then as much as you didn’t want to you both rolled out of bed. It was a good thing you didn’t wear any makeup. As Antonio stood up you looked at his back and giggled and that made him turn around with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” He asked you.

“I really did a number on your back.” You said and he went into the bathroom and you followed him. He looked into the mirror and shook his head.

“These just show that I made you feel good and I will wear them proudly.” He said turning around and kissing you and then you got your reflection in the mirror and saw the deep bruising on your neck and gasped, you pulled away from him.

“How am I supposed to cover these up?” You asked him and he shook his head and came up behind you wrapping his arms around you.

“Don’t. It shows that you’re mine and only mine.” He said and you shook your head.

“Antonio.” You said in a warning tone and he looked at you.

“One of the girls might have something to cover them up so you don’t get in trouble.” He said and you nodded. You both got ready for work and this included a shower which you could hear him hiss as the water touched the marks going down his back and that just made you smirk. When it came down to clothing you grabbed one of his shirts and made it work and then threw on your jeans and tucked the shirt into it creating a cute and decent outfit if you must say.

You both ate a little bit of something and then you both were on your way to work. You had also opted for one of his hoodies that was just big enough that it was comfortable. The drive to work was a comfortable silence and he held your hand over the center console. When you arrived at the precinct, he parked right next to your car that was still sitting there. Having to grab something from it you both were heading inside afterwards. As you both walked hand in hand into the building, Trudy looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Antonio just smirked and you hang your head smiling and a blush creeping up on you. She didn’t say a word but you could tell she was thinking by the smirk on her face.

 You thought you were in the clear when you didn’t see anyone in the bullpen but you luck had run out when everyone started to filter in from different places one by one. Everyone greeted each other and when Adam went to pat Antonio on the back he hissed and tensed up. Adam, thinking something he did wrong, pulled back and raised his hands “You ok man? It wasn’t that hard of a pat.” He said and Antonio shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t your pat.” He said not wanting to out your relationship quite yet. He said and your face heated up and you wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. “Let’s get to work. Yeah?” He asked as you both scurried away to your desks, thankfully his sweatshirt was covering up your hickeys and they hadn't noticed you wearing his clothing.

It wasn’t a very busy day, just a lot of paperwork that had to be filled out and occasionally everyone would hear Atonio hiss out or grunt in pain and it was concerning a lot of your coworkers. Each time your face would become beat red and you would bury your head into you work. It was starting to get a little warm so you took his hoodie off without thinking and then you heard a gasp and you looked up at Kevin. “Did you get in a fight with an octopus?” He asked and that had everyone coming over to look at you, especially the girls.

“No, Kevin. I just had a very fun eventful night.” You said and then Erin spoke up.

“I bet you did with your neck looking like that. Is that Antonio’s shirt?” She asked and you looked down.

“Is it?” You asked and then Jay was coming over to inspect it.

“That is totally his shirt.” Jay said and you were quiet and so was Antonio. He sat back into his chair and let out a painful hiss and everyone looked at him and they were slowly putting the dots together.

“Wait….” Kim said and everyone looked up at her “Did you two finally confess and sleep together?” She asked and you both kept quiet. You looked at him and they caught that.

“OMG! You did!” Erin said loud enough for everyone in the building to hear.

“Shhhhhhh.” You and Antonio said at the same time. “Keep your voice down.” You both said at the same time again.

“Oh, you’re going to tell us more while Erin and I help you cover this up before Hank sees.” Kim said and grabbed your hand and you 3 girls headed into the locker room. You and Antonio looked at each other and it was a silent cry for help but you both knew you both weren’t going to get out of this so you both let it happen. The boys circled Antonio and the telling began just as the girls sat you down on the bench in the locker room and began the operation of covering up the hickeys.

“How was it?” Erin asked and you smirked and blushed.

“It was great and perfect. He was gentle and the sex was great. I really love him.” You said and they squealed. You told them more but all you could think about was about how Antonio was getting grilled and questioned.

**********************************************

“How was she?” Kevin asked and was met with a hit to the chest and an ‘oof’ was heard from him.

“She was great. I really love her. Those nails of hers can do some damage but it felt great.” He said with a smile thinking of how your night went.

“Man, if she’s leaving scratches down your back that is making you hiss then you’re doing something right.” Adam said and Jay nodded in agreement.

This went on for about 20 minutes until you were walking about out a shade of red and he got up and met you before walking into the bullpen and he grabbed your face and kissed you and you returned it. Oh, yea you love this man with all your heart and he felt the same way. You were both glad you went from colleagues to lovers. In your mind and his you both were the best thing to happen to each other.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

[firstelevens]

sambucky + “stubborn” for your consideration!

this screenshot was the first thing I saw from the Thunderbolts trailer and unfortunately I was perfectly positioned to have a brainwave about it. now it's a fic. bon appetit.

( read it on AO3 )

As it so often has these days, one in the morning finds Sam crawling around on the kitchen floor, mapping out a pattern in subway tiles. Tonight, he’s gone for herringbone, a choice that he regretted as soon as he started. There’s a legal pad on the floor beside him, covered in notes about angled cuts and tile wastage, and he’s still not sure the pattern looks the way it should. There are probably YouTube videos about this exact thing, but this is the first night in weeks that Sam can’t just blast a home improvement video from his phone at any given hour.

He pushes off the floor and stands to get a look at the pattern he laid out—his knees protest, which he doesn’t have time to be concerned about—and huffs in disappointment. The tiles are far too chunky for the design, the angled set looking more like a mistake than an artistic choice. It might come through if Sam was willing to tile the whole kitchen that way, but it makes his head spin to consider how much tile would be wasted if he did.

He’s still frowning down at the pattern when the creak of the staircase landing lets him know that he’s about to have company. Apparently, not even Bucky’s stealth is a match for hardwood floors in a hundred year old house, and after a moment, he appears in the kitchen doorway.

“Sam,” he says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, “why the hell are you still up?”

His hair is a fluffy mess, caught in an awkward growing-out stage, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt from some charity event that Kamala had wheedled them into attending last month, and he’s just bleary enough that all Sam has to do is hold out a hand before Bucky is taking it and allowing himself to be reeled in. He lets out a quiet oof when he collides with Sam’s shoulder, but immediately readjusts, slipping his arms around Sam’s waist and resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder.

“How are you gonna shake off your jet lag if you don’t get some sleep?” asks Sam. “If you fall asleep mid-conversation at lunch with Joaquín tomorrow, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“I’m over a hundred years old, Sam; I can nap whenever I damn well please.”

“You could also sleep in our bedroom at night like a normal person.”

Bucky snorts. “Are we pretending to have normal sleep schedules now?”

“Shut up, it’s aspirational,” says Sam. “Just like all those kitchen Pinterest boards are about to be if I can’t figure out this stupid tile arrangement.”

“That’s because you’re basically sleepwalking.”

“If you’re just gonna be quippy about it, you can take your ass right back up to bed,” snaps Sam. “We’re already running behind schedule, and I need these tiles set before the guy comes to install the stove, and we bought all these decorative pieces and we had a plan for all of it, but I can’t for the life of me remember how the designer at the tile showroom made it work, and if I can’t, that’s another three weeks.”

He feels Bucky’s arms retreat from around his waist and immediately regrets it. It’s not Bucky’s fault that Sam’s brain isn’t working right now, just like it isn’t his fault that Team Cap got called in at the crack of dawn today to deal with a squadron of rogue androids wreaking havoc in Chicago. 

“Sorry, Buck,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face and turning in the direction of Bucky’s footsteps. “This is the third catastrophe of the week, and I just– what are you doing?”

Bucky shrugs at Sam as he turns on the tap and fills the electric kettle with water. “What does it look like, birdie? I’m making tea.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna sleep unless you come to bed, and you’re not gonna come to bed until you figure out how to make this tile pattern work. I don’t solve my problem until I solve yours.”

“There’s that romance I’ve been missing,” says Sam, his voice flat.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response. “Romance? Is that what you call staying downstairs to do math instead of coming up to bed when your partner just got back from a month-long mission?”

“It was barely three weeks,” scoffs Sam, like he hadn’t kept up a running tally of days until Bucky’s return. “And your so-called mission was to Wakanda, where you spent most of your time playing with baby goats and being nosy about Shuri’s experiments.”

“And that was very hard, very lonely work,” says Bucky, flicking the kettle on and turning to grab mugs out of the cabinet. He sets them on the counter, then drops in a tea bag each from the fancy wooden caddy that Joaquín got them as a housewarming present. “I pined for you, Samuel.”

“I’m sure you did,” says Sam. He decides to leave Bucky to it and turns back to the tiles, halfway to kneeling on the floor again before Bucky makes a disapproving noise from behind him. He huffs and looks over his shoulder, straightening up again. “What now, Barnes?”

“You keep at it like this and your knees and back are gonna give you trouble for the next month.”

Sam crosses his arms, more annoyed at Bucky being right than anything else. “How else do I make this puzzle work? It’s not going to make sense unless I can move the pieces myself.”

In retrospect, it’s gracious of Bucky to not point out that crawling on his hands and knees didn’t do much to make it make sense, either. In the moment, he just says, “Give me a second,” and disappears down the hallway again, turning into the family room. 

When he reappears a moment later, he has two couch cushions in his hand, dropping them both at Sam’s feet. “Knock yourself out,” he says, gesturing to the tiles on the floor.

“Oh,” says Sam, blinking down at the pillows. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of that earlier. “Thanks, baby.”

Bucky just hums in acknowledgment. “At least this way we don’t have to put out a press statement about you getting injured in a fight with kitchen decor.”

“Shut up,” says Sam, but it’s much softer now. He kneels on the cushion in front of him and sets to work again, referring to his legal pad and trying to make sense of the tile layout one more time. 

On the other side of the island, he can hear Bucky pouring the hot water into their mugs. A second later, he hears the click and swoosh of something gliding across a smooth surface, followed by the thwack of two coasters sliding over the edge of the counter and landing on the floor. One of them skids far enough on the landing to end up on Sam’s tiles, and though he flicks it out of the way, it makes a familiar fondness bloom in his chest.

“Why are you pelting me with coasters? I know your mother raised you better than that.”

“She did,” says Bucky, coming around the counter. “Which is why I would never put these mugs on these ‘original hardwoods’ that you love so much.”

Sam makes a face. Being excited about original hardwood floors in a house from 1910 is normal and he won’t be shamed for it. “And you couldn’t just, I don’t know, carry over the coasters like a normal person?”

“Then I’d have to make two trips,” Bucky says. “I’m being efficient, Sam.”

“You’re being lazy, is what that is,” says Sam. He reaches up to take one of the mugs as Bucky sits down beside him.

“I prefer to think of it as saving my energy for important things,” says Bucky, setting aside his tea. “Like saving the world. Or ravishing my partner after yearning for him for weeks on end.”

Sam tries to nudge Bucky, but three years of partnership and supersoldier reflexes mean that Bucky almost never catches a ‘stop being corny’ elbow—although when he does, he makes sure to whine about it for far too long. “All that yearning and you still couldn’t bring me my own Border Tribe blanket?”

“That thing is enormous, Sam; why would we need two?”

“What if I want to curl up in a chair on my own?”

Bucky snorts. “Then I assume you’ll just steal the blanket, the same way you always do at night.”

Unfortunately, it’s an accusation backed up by hard evidence, so Sam has no defense against it, except to say, “What do you even need the blankets for? You’re like a furnace; you’ve got the serum.”

“And what do you even need the blankets for when you’ve got me?”

Sam can see the corners of Bucky’s mouth turning up just slightly, and he opts not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. “You better be glad you didn’t say that back in Delacroix, because Sarah would never let you hear the end of it.”

“You say that like you’re not going to tell her about this on the phone tomorrow.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t, turning back to the tiles and the legal pad instead. Bucky watches him work in silence for a bit, drawn-out enough that Sam is itching to break it. It’s easy to forget that even before Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he spent his army career waiting out the enemy from a sniper’s nest, and he can play chicken with the best of them. Three years of partnership has built up Sam’s tolerance, too, though, and when he stays silent, it’s Bucky who finally cracks.

“So should we talk about why you’re this worried about a bunch of tiles? And don’t tell me that anything worth doing is worth doing well. Tile-arranging in the dead of night is not something worth doing.”

“Maybe I just take pride in the things I do,” says Sam, but it sounds surly even to him.

“Of course you do,” says Bucky. “That’s hardly news. But don’t pretend this is the same thing as you getting up at the crack of dawn to work on the boat. This is something else.”

Sam frowns, looking down at the tiles that he’s been staring at for hours. He’s quiet for a long moment, but Bucky doesn’t rush him. There’s no answer that Sam can come up with, really, not one that would be remotely satisfactory.

“I can’t just want this to be done? It can’t just be that I want to check it off the list now and not later?”

“Is that what’s going on, though?”

“Maybe,” says Sam, shrugging.

“So we’ll just tile the whole kitchen the same way,” says Bucky, his voice light. “No backsplash pattern at all. Then we’ll be done.”

“It’s not that easy,” he says.

“Why not?” asks Bucky. “It’s our house, and we have a timeline to stick to, right? If the design is slowing us down, we can skip it.”

“It won’t be the same, though,” says Sam. “It won’t be right.”

Anyone else would be polite enough to leave it at that, but Sam had to go and fall in love with the stubbornest asshole he knows. “What, we don’t get to pick what’s right?”

“We already picked this,” Sam says, his voice sharp. “We picked the design and all the details, and where it would sit, and how long it would take for us to be done. We decided that this is what home should look like. We should be able to have the thing we want.”

And it’s not like Sam can’t hear himself. It’s not like he doesn’t know that his late nights of tile arranging and testing wood finishes aren’t the healthiest choices he could make. He’s just been able to ignore that until now, because for all this time, he’s had something to do and a deadline to do it by, whether it was androids to punch or a sink to order.

He hasn’t let himself think of stopping and what that means, not until right now, with Bucky’s gaze heavy on him and the quiet of the kitchen broken by a murmured, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sam still doesn’t let himself look up, skimming his fingers over the tiles in their pattern. “I just want it to look like we wanted,” he says softly. His thoughts drift to the office upstairs, the classified files in the secret compartment of Bucky’s desk, and the lump in his throat is immediate. “So anyone who sees it knows that it’s a home. So they know that it’s our home.”

Bucky sighs, and then there’s some shuffling before he’s pulling on the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt. “Come here, baby.”

A quick peripheral glance reveals that Bucky’s back is resting against the island cabinets now, and his arms are open. In any other circumstance, Sam might be embarrassed by how fast he moves, but he can’t bring himself to care. He lets himself be hauled into Bucky’s arms and manhandled into a more comfortable sitting position, his back to Bucky’s chest and Bucky’s arms curled protectively around him.

“Sammy, sweetheart,” says Bucky, “I don’t know what world you’re living in where it’s not already obvious that this is our house. Our dining room has purple walls, Sam. Purple. The whole room. I’ll tell you right now, nobody’s walking into that room and imagining anything except the truth.”

“It’s maroon, you heathen, and it’s a nice color,” says Sam, his voice still a little watery.

“It is,” Bucky agrees. “It’s nice, and you chose it, and every time I look at it, I’m going to think of how you told the girl at the paint counter that your man had old fashioned taste but no budget constraints, and she thought you were someone’s sugar baby redecorating their love nest.”

“That wasn’t as funny as you thought it was,” Sam says. Then, because he’s sleep deprived and his brain to mouth filter is gone, he adds: “And for the record, I’d be a great sugar baby. My taste is expensive as hell.”

“Yeah, Sam, you’re a real material girl.”

Sam frowns. “I should never have let Sarah teach you about Madonna.”

“I’d like to see you try to stop Sarah from doing anything,” says Bucky, with a snort.

“I’m sure it’ll happen plenty when I’m back down in Delacroix,” says Sam, and he feels Bucky’s arms tense. “Maybe the boys can record it for you.”

“Maybe,” echoes Bucky. He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, “I haven’t talked to them yet. I don’t know how to explain myself. I thought it might get easier when I came back stateside, but it just feels more overwhelming now.”

Sam covers Bucky’s hands with his own, giving them a squeeze. “You just have to tell them it’s the same as any mission. We go out there, we do something scary but important, and then we come back home. It’s all fine as long as you come back home.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “Just this one thing, and then we’ll both be back home.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sam.

“Just one thing,” repeats Bucky, “and then we’ll both be here, and it’ll be home, and it won’t be because of the backsplash or the baseboards. It’ll be because it’s you and me. That’s home.”

Sam doesn’t bother to hide his sniffle this time. “Just that, huh?”

“You’ve got no idea, songbird,” says Bucky, tucking his face against Sam’s neck. “The two of us? You looking at me and actually seeing me? I think that was home even before I remembered what home was.”

He feels himself go very still as his brain makes sense of Bucky’s words, thinks of stilted conversation on a train platform and scowls exchanged in a rearview mirror. It’s not even worth trying to stop his eyes welling up.

“What the hell, Bucky?” Sam croaks, swiping at the tears. “Is this you making me feel better?”

“What?” asks Bucky, smiling against Sam’s neck. “No good?”

Sam shakes his head.

“Sorry, honey,” says Bucky, with a conciliatory kiss to Sam’s pulse point. “How ‘bout a distraction instead?”

With another sniffle: “What kind of distraction?”

The last thing that Sam is expecting is for Bucky to reach out and point at the tiles, now slightly askew with Sam and Bucky’s readjustments and their legs being sprawled out in front of them.

“What, you want to do math?”

“Not exactly.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Then what?”

“First, I want you to remember we’re so in love that it made you tear up a second ago. Just keep that in your head for a second.”

“Bucky.”

“What, you don’t want to think about how far we’ve come?”

“Bucky.”

“Fine, but you’re going to hate it,” says Bucky. When Sam waves a hand for him to continue, he takes a deep breath and says, “I think I solved your tile thing.”

“No, you didn’t,” says Sam.

Behind him, Bucky shifts a little, then uses his foot to nudge one of the tiles out of its overlap with its neighbor, knocking it out of the herringbone shape. Then, he nudges it again so the short side of one tile sits flush against the long side of another. Straight on, it’s a right angle, but rotated forty-five degrees, it’s…

“Fuck off, I know that didn’t happen,” says Sam, pushing up onto his knees to get a better look. He leans over and replicates the pattern with four more tiles just below it: a perfect herringbone, and tight enough from the offset that the pattern is clear even with a handful of tiles. “What the hell? Was it that easy this whole time?”

“I mean…”

Sam covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you were right,” he says, but it’s garbled behind his hands.

“I don’t speak Dwarvish; can you repeat that?” asks Bucky, and Sam elbows him just because, but then he lets Bucky take his hand and lead him up to bed anyway.

[royalwhumpness]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice didn’t quite live up to my expectations. I was disappointed by some of the creative choices, particularly in how certain characters were portrayed and the story direction. This fic is my re-imagining of the movie, reflecting how I feel the characters and story could have been better developed. ’ve removed the fiancée/manager character entirely. I found him unnecessary, and his execution felt lacking. The overuse of mental health terms to villainize him and, by extension, the mental health movement, struck me as lazy and problematic. While his manipulative nature was meant to control Lydia, there was no positive representation to counterbalance his portrayal, leaving the audience with little context for his misuse. Instead, these issues were treated as punchlines, which, in my opinion, trivialized the subject matter. In my version, Betelgeuse’s ex is introduced more subtly, with hints of her greater role as the main antagonist in a potential third installment: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetljuice. Her character was completely underutilized in the film, and I felt she was given one of the most anticlimactic ends for any villain. Bob is not in this story. I’ve slightly re-imagined the detective, a character with a lot of untapped potential. On the other hand, Jeremy was the standout character for me and should have been the central antagonist. I’ve developed his relationship with Astrid more deeply, creating a stronger emotional impact leading up to his betrayal. Astrid, in my version, is a more realistic teenager—not the stereotypical brat she was in the movie. She and Lydia have a complex relationship, which, while strained, is more balanced. (Let’s not forget that Lydia herself was once a moody, gothic teen. She had personality, moped around, and resented her stepmother, but her characterization felt more nuanced and authentic than Astrid’s does here.) I was also disappointed by Delia’s treatment in the sequel—she felt like a mere caricature of her original self, and I believe she deserved much more. As for Betelgeuse, he went from being an outcast in the first film—someone you were warned against—to having an office and a legitimate business? That felt completely out of place. Much like Delia, he seemed like a caricature of his former self, and he’s significantly overpowered in this version. I’ve returned him to the chaotic, outcast anti-hero we all know. If you enjoyed the movie, that’s great—everyone has different tastes, and I respect that. But I hope you’ll give this version a chance and maybe find something to enjoy here too. If, like me, you were left wanting more from the sequel, perhaps this re-imagining will help scratch that itch. It’s been a cathartic project for me, and I hope you enjoy the read.

You can visit my AO3 if you'd like instead of reading here! Kudos would be much appreciated <3

PART ONE

“I can’t believe he survived that crash,” Lydia said, kneeling beside Delia and her daughter Astrid in front of her father’s gravestone. His likeness was etched into a chunk of stone shaped like a shark’s fin. Under the portrait, the inscription read:

Charles Deetz Husband, Father, Grandfather Peace Embraces the Dead Ones 1946-2024.

“Yes, well, I can’t believe that dreadful shark has his head in its belly.” Delia replied wryly, dabbing her eyes with a black handkerchief.

Silence hung in the air until Delia broke it with a sharp, ill-timed squawk: “Welp!” She slapped her knees and stood up abruptly. “Time to sell the house.” Lydia’s mouth fell open as Delia walked away, and after a brief moment of shock, she scrambled to chase after her. “Sell? Wha-why? You can’t, I-“ Lydia stammered. Delia silenced her with a raised, gloved hand. “Lydia, I’ve tried dressing this house in as much metaphorical gold as possible, but it’s still painfully clear that it is shit.” She lowered her hand, “I only stayed because your father loved it, but now I can finally rid myself of its stench. Not to mention that it is now an ugly reminder that my husband is no longer here.” With that, she stormed off, leaving Lydia frozen, watching her retreat. Every fragment of her life she held dear seemed to slip through her fingers, and with each heartbreak, the weight of grief grew heavier. She started bracing herself beneath the looming shadow of yet another impending loss.

Astrid came to stand beside her mom, gently placing a hand on her arm. Lydia glanced down at her daughter, and for a moment, she marveled at the beauty she had brought into the world. She saw herself in Astrid’s smile, but her inky black eyes, high and rounded cheekbones, and even her cute, small ears were all her father’s. At 15, Astrid had endured more than her fair share of losses. For years now, it had been just her and Lydia. Before she turned four, her grandparents had been a constant presence, always nearby. Then one day, with arms full of suitcases, they drove off, their car shrinking into the bright summer horizon. Only her grandfather reappeared from time to time, sitting with her to watch the birds while her mother tended to grieving clients. And instead of growing up surrounded by the warm, steadfast presence of her father, Astrid and Lydia had to confront his absence, mourning him when she was barely seven. Lydia placed her hand gently over Astrid’s. “I’m not going to let her sell the house.” Astrid remained silent, but she didn’t need to say anything. Astrid had never shown any affection for the house or its bygone charm. She had never known its vibrant, ghost-filled days. The town was small, and Astrid had eagerly accepted the chance to go to boarding school when she started her freshman year. To Astrid, this place, steeped in Lydia’s memories, was just a house. Instead, Astrid extended a soft, comforting smile before quietly following Delia’s path.

A little while later, Lydia found Delia in Charles’ office, researching how to list the house for sale and how soon after a death it could be done. “Delia, you don’t even live here anymore. I live here, and Astrid lives here. Doesn’t that mean something?” Without looking up from her screen, Delia replied, “You live here. Astrid goes to boarding school.” Lydia just stared. Where there should have been a beating, pulsing red glob of muscle in Delia’s chest, Lydia saw a yawning, gaping void. She watched as it seemed to draw in and distort the light around it, bending and warping everything towards its dark, insatiable center. Noticing the silence, Delia looked up. “Why are you so determined to stay? The Maitlands have moved on, Astrid is rarely home, and your ex-husband and father are both gone. I don’t see-“ She paused, her gaze meeting Lydia’s. The expression on Lydia’s face made her feel foolish. “I’m making an ass of myself, aren’t I?” Lydia responded with a slow, exaggerated nod, her eyes widening and lips pursed as if to underscore the obviousness of the answer. “I have a business here,” Lydia said quietly, “and memories.” Delia’s face softened. Lydia could see that her usual scowl had melted into something of a motherly expression of genuine compassion and sympathy. “Oh, Lydia.” She rose from her chair and approached her, reaching out to gently touch her face. “We’ve never really gotten along, have we? But you’re still my daughter, and we only have each other now.” “Then why are you uprooting my whole life right now?” Delia had no answer. She hadn’t lived in the house for over a decade. She and Charles had bought a condo in New York, allowing her to pursue her artistic endeavors and escape the ghost house. Charles would often travel back and forth, spending months at a time with Lydia and Astrid to indulge in his seasonal bird watching hobby. Meanwhile, Lydia remained behind, raising Astrid, supporting the house with her psychic business, and keeping Charles company during his visits.

“Alright,” Delia began, “I’m going to wait. But I still intend to sell the house.” Lydia started to interrupt, but Delia raised the same gloved hand to silence her. “I’m going to sell it eventually. But I’m not doing this out of spite. I want you to have the chance to move on, Lydia. I’m giving you a year.” Lydia sighed, lowering her gaze. A year might as well have been next week. The pause stretched long. An overwhelming urge to argue or plead spread through her bones and soaked into her throat, but she swallowed it down, managing a quiet, “Thank you,” paired with a soft, sullen smile. Delia’s expression brightened, and she gave Lydia’s nose a playful boop before leaving the office.

Astrid found her mom sulking on the couch, playing with her wedding ring. “You haven’t worn that in forever,” she said, sitting beside her and resting her head on her shoulder. Lydia returned the gesture, gently resting her own head on Astrid’s. She showed Astrid the ring and the inscription inside: ‘I will be with you, always.’ “Why can’t you see him, Mom?” Astrid asked softly. “I wish I knew, Astrid. Why can’t you?” Astrid lifted her head abruptly and shifted towards the edge of the couch, as if preparing to leave. Lydia, sensing Astrid’s frustration, said, “You can see them.” “So you say, but I have never seen one.” “You saw one when…“ “That I remember,” Astrid interrupted, cutting Lydia off before she could remind her, yet again, of the ghost she saw when she was four. It had been just over ten years since then, and she hadn’t seen one since.

“I’m going to ride my bike around town. I’ll see you later.” Astrid said. Lydia reached out to lovingly rub Astrid’s back before she left. “Okay. Be safe.” Astrid gave a slight smile and stood up. She often felt frustrated whenever her mom brought up her ability, or inability, to see ghosts. Thoughts swirled in her mind: Why can’t I see them? Am I not good enough? Are they even real? Would my mom really lie about something like this? She found it best to distance herself in these moments to avoid lashing out at her.

It had happened once before. Lydia was attempting to teach Astrid how to see ghosts, despite not fully understanding her own abilities. Frustrated by her failures regardless of her mother’s guidance, Astrid snapped. She accused her mother of being a fraud, claiming her psychic abilities were fake and that her business cheated clients out of their money. Astrid instantly regretted her harsh words. Though she didn’t see her mother’s reaction, she sensed it— the subtle shift—and prepared herself for what felt like the beginning of a strained relationship. It became routine then that at the first sign of rising anger or frustration, Astrid would remove herself from the situation to avoid confronting it altogether.

Astrid walked out the front door without a backward glance. Lately, her words had grown fewer, the once-eager stories about her day fading into silence. She barely met Lydia’s eyes anymore, and though small gestures of affection remained, the growing distance was unmistakable. Lydia’s heart ached as she watched her daughter go. Rising from the couch, she looked around the empty house. It was now haunted not by spirits, but by the echoes of a time when it was alive with the Maitlands’ presence and her family’s warm company. Longing to reclaim those cherished moments, she wandered through the house. Her eyes settled on her room, and a deep wave of sentimentality washed over her. An irresistible pull drew her toward the attic, driven by a quiet hope that revisiting the past might help her reconnect with what had been lost.

In her room, Lydia pulled out a small drawer from her jewelry box and carefully took out the old, familiar skeleton key. She smiled at it wistfully before heading for the attic. The stairs were draped in cobwebs and spider silk, hinting at years of neglect. Lydia unlocked the attic door and, after a struggle to unstick it, pushed it open and stepped inside. Waves of familiarity and longing enveloped her. Everything was covered in thick sheets and layers upon layers of dust undisturbed on top. It was clear that neither Lydia nor any other Deetz had ventured into this attic in years. She pulled the sheet off the town model and flicked on the switch. The model illuminated, instantly rekindling its old charm and wonder. Lydia leaned on the table, taking in the intricate details of the small buildings she hadn’t seen since before Astrid was born.

“Oh, I miss you so much,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I wish you had never moved on. We could have stayed a family, even in death.” She spoke aloud with the same reverence and cadence as one might when addressing an unseen deity. Speaking with the departed had always come easily to her—unless they had crossed beyond the reach of the afterlife. At that point, she was merely talking to herself. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but she needed to talk to them anyway. She lowered her head. “Why did you leave me?” She poked absentmindedly at a red toy car in a miniature driveway. “I wish you could have met Astrid. She would have loved you both.” She saw visions of Astrid coming home with her class drawings, eagerly showing them off to the Maitlands. She wanted Astrid to experience the joy she felt when they used their silly ghost powers. “You barely knew Richard before you were given your ticket to the Ethereal Express. Gone forever. And now Richard is gone, too. I can’t even see his spirit. My father is gone, my daughter is unreachable, and Delia is going to sell the house.” Lydia rested her head lightly on the table. She could feel the emotions bubbling up in her eyes, but she wasn’t willing to cry just yet.

She straightened up, sniffling back her tears and swallowing the sob in her throat. She lingered for a moment in silence, watching the dust particles swirl around the model town. Her gaze, initially soft, allowing herself to be at ease watching everything blur, suddenly sharpened. A vivid neon red light flickered on in the model, casting eerie patterns across her face. A soundless gasp escaped her as she saw Betelgeuse’s gravestone had materialized, and above it, a marquee sign surrounded by bulbs flashing in a captivating chase illuminated the words: "I'm still here, Lydia." Panicked, Lydia yanked a sheet over the model, turned off the lights, and rushed out of the attic, locking the door behind her before bolting down the stairs.

[herefortheships]

Hey hey! You probably answered this but I can't find it ATM. WHY DID HE LEAVE HER??? Like why did he go one way and tell her to go another??? Was it so he could stamp the passport?? Why would he up and leave her??? Ok that's it. Cleaning the house and having a crisis 😅😅😅

That also drove me crazy in the movie theater! Like, why?! I was looking forward to their team-up when he blew up the wall to get into the netherworld, and then he just goes on his own when it's finally happening?!

I think the obvious answer is that Michael Keaton had asked for limited screentime for Betelgeuse, just like in the original movie. I think they kept his screentime to just the scenes in which seeing Betelgeuse was absolutely necessary for the plot. If you ask me, I think they should have convinced Michael to allow Betelgeuse to have more screentime in this one. I think they did space out his appearances more effectively in this movie in the sense that it felt to me like he was in it more than in the previous one, despite it being a similar amount of time.

I can't think of an in-movie reason why he'd leave her, to be honest, other than he was giving her time to be with Richard and Astrid for a moment? She had signed the marriage contract, so maybe in his mind she was already his for eternity. He might have decided to give her a final moment with her past lover, taking Richard's post. I think I like that idea. But I feel like they should have either given a clearer/stronger reason in the movie for him to leave her alone in the neitherworld. Does she even know her way around? What if she got lost?! lol. No, no, he should have stayed with her, but alas.

I hope if they do make the third movie they can convince Michael to be in it for a few minutes longer than in the previous installments. I think in this one we definitely needed more Betelgeuse; the movie would have benefitted from more of his presence.

[bluewhale52]

Wallflower in Bloom

Summary: After three months of no intimate actions as Seokjin's sugar baby, you finally find out what it's like to have him open you up till you bloom.

Pairing: sugar daddy Seokjin x shy university student f!reader

Genre: non-idol au, s2l, sugar daddy

WC: 3.6k

Rating: NSFW, no minors allowed

Warning: sugar daddy Jin, shy and timid sugar baby reader, reader is nicknamed petal by our WWH, reader carries some emotional baggage which isn't mentioned here but will be in future chapters, pwp, grinding, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dom Jin, begging, multiple orgasms, riding, Seokjin has a third leg obviously, and... i think that's it??

A/N: Starting 2023 with my brain producing the smut scenes in this fic, and somehow I decided to make a series out of it. Hah. This will be the first installment of my Seokjin Sugar Daddy series, The Wallflower Series. Major thanks to the amazing @moonleeai for beta-ing and brainstorming with me, your appreciation for the smut scenes feeds my ego and makes me extra embarrassed too lol. And also to WaywardSammy for the BEAUTIFUL BANNER. I don't know how you took the picture out of my head and made it into this super pretty artwork.

You take a deep breath as you enter Seokjin’s penthouse. It is not your first time here, but your heart is pounding wildly, remembering the words he whispered into your ears last night.

Tomorrow, my petal, I will ravish and devour you.

You shudder. Your senses have been heightened ever since, and you feel like a taut string on a bow ready to snap. 

You have known Seokjin for a few days over three months now, and since the initial meeting when you both agreed to this arrangement, he has been nothing but kind, patient and generous. He told you that the first three months were for you both to get to know each other. You were able to read between the lines, though- it was a test that you needed to pass. So you spent time with him, accompanying him to dinners, fishing trips, and staying at his place while he gamed the whole night till the sun came up. You never asked for anything, you remained quiet and mousy at the events he brought you to, listening to murmurs and gossip and reporting them to him. You learned to fish so you could feed into his competitive streak, and you even tried your hands at gaming; a luxury you never had growing up. And during all these times, he had never touched you, apart from a peck on the cheek when he dropped you off at your place. However, with every notification on your phone of a deposit made into your bank account, you knew when the time came, you would have to be ready for him.

And now, the time has indeed come. Your body feels hot all over as your sugar daddy approaches you. He looks incredibly handsome, and you keep wondering why he would pick you, a plain wallflower, when he could have picked any other beautiful women, even celebrities. 

“Petal,” he lands a soft kiss on your cheek, “you look like you’re about to pass out.” He stands so impossibly close to you, enveloping you with his musk, making you feel dizzy with want and lust. 

You let out a nervous chuckle. “I am nervous,” you admit, knowing Seokjin values honesty above all. “I’m worried I won’t be good enough.”

“I will be satisfied, and you will be too,” he promises. “Are you wearing the gift I got you?”

You nod. The lingerie sticks to your skin, clammy from all the nerves and anxiety. Seokjin takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. He sits down and pulls you to his lap. Insecurity engulfs you when he wraps his hand around your middle, his fingers digging into the flesh underneath your clothes. You shudder when his fingers travel up your side, touch so fleeting you instinctively turn to him, silently begging for more. His chest rumbles in appreciation once his large hand covers your breast, and once his fingers dig into the supple flesh, your doubts fly away, your mind filled with more need and lust for him.

“So soft,” he whispers, squeezing your breast again. You lean further into him, embarrassed that you are already making a mess between your legs from a single action.

“Been wanting to touch these tits since the day I met you,” his nose nudges your neck, his words slither along your skin. “I’ve thought about them so much, had to control myself these last three months. Do you think about me at all, baby? Hmm?”

 Another gush of arousal leaks out onto your panties, you revel at his admission that he thinks of you too. “Yeah,” you pant. You do, you do indeed. You fantasize about him every night, since you started being his sugar baby, wondering what it would be like to finally be intimate with him. Not that you have a lot of references to go with, but from the time you have spent with him, you would like to think he would be more attentive than… no, you’re not going to think about that. 

Seokjin pulls you into a searing kiss, his hand still kneading your breast while his other hand grabs your ass to pull your body flush against his. He continues kissing and touching you, pulling out moan after moan, touching your body to make you jerk and press yourself further onto him. You can feel his hard erection underneath you, so you naturally start grinding on him, seeking friction to enhance your pleasure. You hear the growl first before he bucks his hips up, catching you by surprise.

“Oh my god!” You yelp, your sex feels like it is on fire. You hold your breath and grip his shoulders, your orgasm just within reach.

He tuts in your ear. “Gonna cum already?” He nips your earlobe. “I haven’t even started yet, petal. You’re so sensitive, hmm?”

You cling onto him. “Want to,” you mumble. 

He maneuvers you so that you are seated facing him, straddling him. His hands are on your thighs, pushing your dress up and up, until your panties are shown to his hungry eyes. He licks his lips. Your cheeks burn at his brazen show of desire.

“God, I have good taste.”

His self-praising line makes you giggle a little, which in turns makes him laugh too. Feeling the tension abating a little gives you some courage to lift your dress up and off, presenting yourself in the lingerie he has gifted you.

“Fuck…” he leans back on the sofa. You feel your skin heating at the way he looks at your body. The self-conscious feeling is creeping in again, your hands itching to cover your middle, but before you can do so, he grabs your hands and pulls them to the small of your back, pinning them there. The position makes you arch your back, pushing your breasts closer towards him.

“Fuck,” he curses again, “I’m going to have so much fun taking these off of you.” 

You are delirious. Seokjin is merely admiring your body with his eyes, butl your arousal continues soaking your panties. You grind your hips again, desperate to feel his hard cock. You wriggle your wrists, and he adjusts his grip on you so that you can link your fingers with his.

“My baby is so horny, hmm?” He chuckles in fake amusement. “Want to wet my jeans so much, do you?”

You let out a series of yeses amidst your panting. You rock your hips, angling your pussy so you can rub your clit against his denim-covered bulge.

“That’s it, baby,” Seokjin encourages you, “ride me till you cum.”

“Oh god,” you squeal as you feel your orgasm building up, “oh god… Daddy!”

You ride him harder, and you wriggle your wrists free. Your hands immediately latch onto your lingerie clad breasts, squeezing them so tight till it hurts, while your lower body continues to rock in Seokjin’s lap. 

“Fucking hell, look at you so lewd and loud,” he chuckles darkly. “So desperate to cum, aren’t you?”

You nod your head furiously.

“So cum, baby. Cum for your daddy.”

His words are all it takes for your dam to burst. Your jaw drops open as heat engorges your body, from your core traveling up to your head, rendering you breathless and motionless. Amidst the explosion, you feel the bra of your lingerie set being ripped off of your body, and Seokjin descends, almost aggressively, to your freed tits.

His strong hands hold you up when you just want to melt into his hard chest. He sucks, nibbles, gropes to his heart’s content as you recover from your orgasm. 

“You’re shaking, baby, you cum good?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, wincing when he sucks and pulls on your nipples more roughly.

“You look so good cumming for me. Wanna see it again.”

Before you can tell him to give you a breather, he flips you over till you are lying on the sofa. He stands up, towering over you, running his fingers over your body. You realize then he is still fully clothed, and you notice the wet spot on his crotch. 

Seokjin follows your line of sight and taps your chin. “Look how you made it wet, baby. I bet your panties are ruined.” You turn to hide your face but he spreads your legs open and tuts at what he finds. “You’ve soaked your panties. You dirty, dirty girl.”

You mewl, you can feel the satin material of your panties stick uncomfortably to your pussy.

“So wet,” he continues, “I bet my fingers will slide right into your little pussy.” 

Your eyes returned to the wet bulge on his pants. You reach to him shyly, palming his erection. “Daddy…”

“Hmm? Baby wants cock now?”

You nod, your body writhing from a new wave of arousal. Your mouth waters at the thought of sucking Seokjin’s cock. He steps closer to your head and your mind reels from the anticipation, but instead of taking his cock out for you, he manhandles you again until you are positioned upside down on the sofa- your head dangling on the edge of the seat, while your lower body is propped up against the back of the seat, your legs open and hanging over.

Blood rushes to your brain and you internally panic. “Seokjin,” you call out to him, worry laced in your voice.

“Relax, baby,” he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out, stroking it lazily. “This way you can suck me while I play with your wet pussy.”

You try to process what he has just said, but your mouth opens automatically as his cock comes to your vision. He praises you as he slides it in, until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag so he withdraws, before he goes in again, forcing himself a little deeper this time. 

“Good girl, taking daddy’s cock so well,” he caresses your cheek, “you’re gonna take it all, yeah? Relax your throat, baby.”

You close your eyes. Your jaw is aching already but you force your mouth and throat to adjust to his girth and length. 

“That’s a good girl,” Seokjin moans above you as you swallow more of his length. He rains praises on you as you take him more, determined to deep throat him. “You feel so good, baby, fuck!” He reaches down to your breasts and squeezes them, holding onto them as he starts fucking your throat. You gag again but he ignores you, making you open yourself more to take him. 

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you choke, needing an outlet for the liquid before it goes up your nose. Seokjin relents a little, giving you a small window to let your saliva seep out, rolling down your face to mix with the tears from your eyes. He picks up his pace, his balls slapping against your nose, and despite the constraint you are in, you feel feverish with wanton lust.

Even more when you feel his fingers pulling your panties aside. Cold air assaults your clammy pussy, giving it some relief, but not for long as Seokjin pats your pussy roughly with his fingers, making your body jolt.

“Let’s see how tight you are,” he inserts a long finger  and your walls clench immediately at the intrusion. He hisses at the tightness and adds another finger. You moan around his length. Seokjin fingers you hard and fast, scissoring you open. “Fucking tight cunt. My cock is gonna split you open, baby.”

You clench again at his words. He chuckles, “You like that, don’t you? You want Daddy’s big cock to stretch you out?”

As a reply, you moan again around his cock and your pussy pulsates around his fingers. He curses, “Fucking pussy sucking me in!” He fingers you faster, until the squelching sound fills the room, mixed with your moans and his. Then without any warning, he yanks his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit harshly. He presses his body down and continues fucking your mouth, trapping you underneath him. You grip his ass, holding on for dear life as you suck his cock, and his fingers urgently pull another orgasm out of you.

Seokjin pulls out of your mouth when your legs start shaking, allowing you to scream his name as another tsunami of pleasure washes through you. His fingers do not relent, however, eager to prolong your orgasm as much as possible.

“Fuck… Daddy, please… no,” you push his fingers away once you are able to collect yourself, and Seokjin does as you ask, only after he snaps your panties back in place, making you jerk from oversensitivity.

He leaves you in your position, upside down on his sofa, as he watches your body come down from its climax. He makes a show of licking his fingers clean of your juices, and you cannot believe how your body responds so quickly after your orgasm. You are hungrier than before. 

Your hand goes to his cock, your fingers wrapping around it, still damp from your saliva. “Daddy,” you mewl, desperate need in your voice. “Want your cock, please…”

Your sugar daddy smiles mockingly at you. “You just had my cock in your mouth, baby. That’s not enough?”

You whimper at his teasing. You want to be greedy. “Want your cock in me, daddy, please.”

“You sure, baby? Your pussy can barely take my fingers.”

“Daddy!” You whine, your hand stroking him with more determination now, while your other hand slides under your ruined panties. Seokjin’s eyes widen at your action. “Please, daddy, I can take you, please.”

Seokjin pulls your panties aside again to see two of your fingers pumping desperately in and out your pussy.  He watches you intently, trying to stay in control, but you feel his cock twitch in your hand. You tighten your grip on him.

“Daddy, it’ll be so nice and tight for you,” you insert a third finger, eyes rolling back at the stretch. “Ah, daddy, please fuck me!”

His cock twitches again, so you finger yourself harder. You chant your nickname for him, begging him to replace your fingers.

“Fuck me, please daddy, my fingers are so small, I need your big cock, please!” You watch him through your lidded eyes, your vision getting hazier with lust overtaking your body yet again. Never in a million years did you think you would be able to act and talk so lewdly, to be so shameless before a man, but Seokjin, in more ways than one, has changed you, and the tension from the past three months has eroded all your decency. You are so horny for him, you just want him to use you as he likes.

Seokjin grips both your hands, removing them from his cock and your cunt. He maneuvers you again so that you’re seated upright, then he undresses fully. You take the time to recalibrate yourself after being upside down for so long, while also watching his toned body being revealed. 

He sits down and motions you to get back on his lap. “Face the front,” he instructs, and you dumbly obey, your body following his orders naturally. His large hands engulfs you, kneading and molding your flesh, and you surrender yourself fully to him.

“You beg so sweetly, so I’m gonna give you what you want, baby.” He whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. He places your legs on either side of his, and then he spreads them, opening you up and keeping you open. 

“My panties,” you breathe out, wiggling as the fabric of your underwear bunches up against your slit.

“Keep them on. You look so slutty with them on.”

Seokjin pulls the panties aside and lines his cockhead with your hole. You grimace as you feel it bullying itself in, gasping in pain as your pussy is stretched to the limit.

“Told you it’s not gonna fit,” he chuckles against your cheek, licking the tears that have escaped your eyes.

“It will fit, it will fit,” you chant to yourself. Despite the stinging discomfort, you are already addicted to the feel of his cock splitting you open. You sink down, slowly but surely, and when your pussy finally swallows him whole, you are nearly hysterical from how good he feels inside you.

“Fuck, baby, so tight and so warm,” he hugs you from behind. 

“So big, daddy,” you pant. You reach down to your lower abdomen and rub your skin there, feeling for the bulge. “So big and so good.”

“My petal, my girl,” Seokjin pulls your face towards him to kiss you sweetly, as if he is so proud of you for taking all of him in. “My good, good girl. Daddy’s gonna fuck you good now, okay?”

“Yes, daddy, please.”

“My good girl deserves to be fucked silly, hmm?” His hands rest gently on your breasts. You sigh your agreement into his kiss. “Put your hands behind my neck, baby, and keep them there, okay?”

You grip the back of his neck. 

“Good girl.” 

He starts pounding into you hard and fast without any warning; the air from your lungs is knocked out so suddenly that you let out silent screams as his cock reaches new depths inside you. You hold on to his neck tightly, not wanting to disobey him, so your fingers dig into his skin there, which makes him hiss and go even faster. 

“So fucking tight, so fucking wet! Been thinking about this pussy for so long. Fuck, you feel so good. Tightest pussy I ever had.” Seokjin spits each comment with every hard thrust. 

Your body is jostled around, bouncing wildly on top of him. When you finally find your voice, you cannot even string any coherent sentence. You are literally being fucked dumb by him. And you revel in it, in the way your tits are slapping against his open palms, in his heavy breathing on your neck, in the sounds of skin slapping against skin, so loud in your ears that it adds to your arousal. 

“Gonna cream my cock, baby? Gonna let me cum in you? Fill this tight pussy up?”

“Oh god, yes! Yes!” You squeal your answer, and squeal even more when his fingers find your engorged bud. He rubs it almost brutally, vigorously drawing your orgasm closer. “Daddy, daddy, please! Oh fuuuck…”

The pressure is getting too much, and you frantically seek for something to hold on to. You find his hair and you clutch onto it tightly as you feel the explosion nearing.

“Daddy, oh, fuck, daddy!” 

“Fuck, that’s it, cum for daddy, come on!”

Your core explodes, and you feel like your soul has left your body, floating and basking in the climax of your pleasure, while your body seizes up, your pussy clamping down painfully tight around Seokjin’s cock, making him lose control and spurt into you. He pumps his hips up a couple more times, emptying himself to the last drop, before sinking into the sofa, pulling you with him.

“Fuck, that was amazing.”

You blink your eyes open. Now that your mind is cleared of lust, your insecurity creeps back in. “Did I do good?” you ask meekly.

Seokjin answers you with a searing kiss. “Did so well. My good, good girl.”

Your heart soars at his praise. You rest your body on his, his hands still secure around you, and you feel so blissed out, so safe, you just want to fall asleep in his arms.

“Petal, do you have any plans tomorrow?”

His question brings you back. You quickly run through your schedule in your head. “No, none, why?”

“You’re staying with me till Monday,” he lays you down on the sofa, his body still connected to yours. Your heart starts racing again. He pinches a nipple and you squirm, clenching your pussy. “My girl is so insatiable, hmm?” He bites and sucks on your breast. You clench again. “Keep clenching around my cock, baby, make me hard again.”

It does not take long at all. 

Surprisingly, you feel pretty good, you might even say you’re glowing, despite the very little sleep you got over the last 2 nights, and the soreness in your limbs and your pussy. You wonder if people around you can tell that you have just spent many, many hours being fucked to oblivion by a very big cock belonging to a very hot, very sexy man. 

You get to class, and gingerly sit down at your usual seat in the back corner of the room, trying to be as invisible as you possibly can, staying out of your classmates’ attempts to make small talk. You wriggle a little to alleviate the soreness of your sex, but all it does is remind you when you sat on Seokjin’s face, wriggling while he ate you out until you were a crying mess. You immediately slap your cheeks to stop your mind from wandering too far into the details. Luckily, your phone dings and breaks you from your reverie. You nearly drop it though, when you see how much he has deposited into your account.

You do a quick calculation- you have enough to pay off a sizeable chunk of your parents’ gambling debt, three months worth of rent, and even the university fee for next semester. You cover your mouth in shock. 

Another ding from your phone arrives, and with a trembling hand, you open the next notification.

KSJ >> Booked you an appointment this afternoon at Mikrokosmos Spa. Enjoy yourself, my sweet petal. I’ll see you Friday night.

PS: Tada! Hope you enjoy this fic. I'm excited to set this series out and in motion, to see how this couple navigate their new dynamic... especially with OT7 in the horizon, hmm?

If you enjoy reading this fic, it would mean the world that you reblog it so that it will reach a wider audience. Come talk to me in the comments or send me an ask! As always, thank you for reading! 💜

Published 08012023

[dddevilsadvocate]

1. and now I’m covered in you

Leviathan x gn!AFAB!reader

a/n: here it is folks! the first chapter of the longest fic I’ve ever written. literally. 12 pages and counting. after the overwhelmingly horny positive reception on this post, I decided to split what I currently have into instalments and release them periodically as I edit them. there is no schedule lol I have ADHD and am also very not good at this 🥲

THIS IS VERY NSFW MINORS GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

CW: self-indulgent smut (unprotected vaginal sex, dry humping, fingering), loss of virginity

midnight had struck well over 2 hours ago. RAD’s 8am start crept closer and closer, like a cat upon a mouse. like a threat. and though you were in bed, covered in blankets and surrounded by pillows, basking in the warmth of the body pressed against you, sleep could not reach you. there was no room for it.

the third eldest’s allocated “you” time - an entire 24 hours with you all to himself! - had started right as the new day did. at 0:03, you’d snuck into his room, where he’d been waiting like a lovesick puppy to show you what he’d done. he’d chosen a great movie for you two to watch; some niche title from his surprisingly robust comedic horror collection, apparently a Devildom cult classic. he’d even gone through all the trouble to have it projected onto his ceiling so you could easily see it from the comfort of his bed - which he’d rearranged into the perfect cuddle nook. snacks he’d fought to keep safe from Beel were laid out like a buffet. the lights of his tank were set to your favourite colour, casting a hazy glow over the space. 

everything had started innocently enough. you’d pressed your lips to his cheek, complimenting his efforts. he’d rushed to start the movie and practically dove into his tub, finally able to wrap his arms around you and rest his head atop yours. his chest rose and fell against you as he laughed at every slapstick gag, mandarin eyes sparkling when he realised you were laughing too. you don’t quite remember how he’d ended up under you, with his hands on your waist and your tongue between his lips, but you weren’t going to complain.

Levi had always been cautious of intimacy. he rarely went further than where he was with you right now, and even such familiar territory made him nervous. you feel the heat of the blush on his face as if you’re leaning over a fire. your kisses are sloppy, and his are desperate. his hands don’t dare stray from their places above your hips, but the lust he’s holding them back from sparks from his fingertips. he wants to let them roam. he wants to let then roam more than anyth-

CCCRRRAAASSSHHH

a sudden, violent rise in the movie’s volume comes like a bomb over your senses. you push yourself up from the demon, a scream tearing from your throat. Levi is just as startled; his eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them as they study the room for the threat.

“AAAH WHAT THE HELL WAS TH- oh. th-the movie.” groaning, his head falls back against the pillow. “I completely forgot about that part… and that it was still playing…”

though your heart continues to pound against your sternum, you giggle. “my god.” running your fingers through his fringe brings his attention back to you. “we should probably turn that off and get some sleep now.”

you reach for the projector’s remote and click it off. but as you go to slide off the demon, his fingers suddenly dig into you. your shirt separates his skin from yours, but you swear you can feel the ridges of his fingerprints. his grip is somehow full of panic, like he’s worried you’ll float away. “w-wait! wait. can… c-can we keep going?”

you smile. you can survive tomorrow’s classes with no sleep if it comes to that. and if you’re honest with yourself, sleeping wouldn’t be nearly as fun as continuing. “of course we-”

“can we go further? maybe?” despite threatening to, Levi’s voice does not waver. his eyes - golden and indigo like the most vibrant of sunsets - dart between yours from beneath furrowed brows. 

the shock of the question does not strike you as hard as his confidence does. your relationship with Levi had never been consummated in the traditional sense, but he wasn’t a stranger to the concept. the rock of your hips always left him a babbling mess. your hands brought him such pleasure he only lasted a minute the first time. and your mouth? god, it was like he was addicted. you’d never heard him - or anyone, for that matter - make such noise while actively trying not to. and yet, as much as he enjoyed the acts as they were happening, asking for them activated his fight or flight. red-cheeked and stuttering, until you saved him with your overwhelming perfection.

you figured he’d get to this question at some point, but you never thought he’d ask it in one smooth go.

“you… want to go further?” you arch an eyebrow. “how much further?”

Levi’s gaze darts to the door. you made sure to lock it behind you at his request, but now he seems worried a brotherly ear or two might be pressed against the other side. he stares for a moment before glancing back at you, unable to meet your eyes this time. he studies your lips, your chest, your shoulders, before his voice drops to a whisper: “a-all the way?”

you open your mouth to respond, but the response doesn’t come. nothing you think of seems appropriate in reply. if you say yes, you’d be the first being to have ever done so. Levi had never even asked anyone before - a confession Asmo had once drunkenly given on the otaku’s behalf. the amount of courage it must have taken to verbalise the question, to venture so far from his comfort zone… your heart swells. the poor demon must be scared shitless.

you don’t even entertain the idea of refusal. of all the centuries he’s had to ask this question, he’s asked you. he wants you.

finally, you cup his cheek in your hand. “I’d love to.” his eyes return to yours, staring wide and glossy over crimson cheeks.

“r-r-really?!” his voice squeaks. his expression is pure disbelief, like he was expecting you to echo his signature ‘disgusting reclusive weirdo’ tirade and flee back to your own room. when you smile again, leaning forwards so your forehead is pressed against his, he inhales sharply and tightens his grip on your waist.

“I’d be honoured, Levi.” your lips brush over his brow, his cheek, his nose. “I’ll take good care of you. I promise. just let me know if you want me to stop at any point, okay?”

(read the next part here)