#i love that he wants to learn more and that he likes working at the farm and that hes good with kids

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Some may be apprehensive that Severance won’t portray Mark’s interaction with Helena in the tent as the sexual assault it was. But not only will they — they already are.

Mark’s behavior toward Helly has completely changed. He doesn’t sit next to her at Irving’s funeral. He shuts down attempts at conversation with offhand, vague snarky comments and a defiantly blank facial expression. When Helly knocks on the door to the bathroom, his eyes dart around like an animal cornered. Where he once would have slowed down for her in the hallway so they could talk, he walks much faster ahead. He’s trying as hard as possible to avoid her. To ignore her. To run away.

Now contrast this with his treatment of “Helly” when she first walked out of the elevator in season two. He waited for her to arrive! He was so relieved she’d come back! And when they were walking down that hallway and he was explaining the situation with Ms. Casey, he stopped mid-stride, turned to her with a smile on his face, and said “Look, Helly—“

He never got to finish that sentence. But some say he was going to confess that though his outie had a wife, his affections lay with her. And I think they’re right.

So why is he acting so differently now? The answer is obvious: “Because they are smarter than us, okay? They know everything.”

After the assault, Mark likely feels like a complete idiot. He spent so much of season one deconstructing his beliefs and breaking free from Lumon’s propaganda. And the minute he believes he’s immune to their lies and no longer a corporate slave, he is taken advantage of and hoodwinked by the very figurehead of said company, masking as someone he loves.

A symbol of Lumon convinced him he was safe. Tricked him. Invaded him in the most intimate way possible, with him completely oblivious, “like an idiot.” Right when he thought everything might be okay.

So maybe Lumon’s right. Maybe there’s no point in fighting. Because if he was stupid enough to not realize his own friend was being possessed by her billionaire doppelgänger, then maybe Lumon is correct about innies being nothing more than pawns. Maybe they are people, and he really is… not. (That’s how Helena treated him, anyway.)

And if that’s the case, of course he wants to give up looking for Ms. Casey and lose himself in work! For a moment he thought he was a human being, deserving of autonomy over his own body and capable of something more than sitting behind a desk — but his assault sends that all crashing down. He is an extension of his outie, made for work and nothing more. Going beyond that gets dangerous. That’s what got Irving killed… and him in Helena’s tent. And Helly? He cannot trust Helly. As far as he knows, his only confirmed moment with Helly since the OTC was when he was holding her in his arms, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Why should it be Helly coming back to the severed floor? If Helena could trick him before, who says she can’t learn from her past mistakes and trick him again over and over? Mark refuses to be humiliated and hurt after last time, so he avoids her (and Dylan!) and puts up a barrier of cool, snarky indifference — just like how he deals with grief.

But we know that indifference is a mask. When Milchick walked out of the elevator after revealing he knew about him and Helena Eagan, Mark had no one to pretend for — and he went completely stiff, blankly wide-eyed in an expression extremely reminiscent of his usual innie self. Whatever the reasons for this, one thing’s for sure: Mark does deeply care about what happened in the tent. And at least for now, he will lose himself in Cold Harbor to cope with it.

Lumon certainly got their productive worker back. But good Lord… at what cost?

[luvvictoria]

I've been thinking abt a poly!tf141 with a fem!reader who like is from the country side AND I'M CRACKING, OH LAWD!!!

Task Force 141 had seen you kill a man from 700 meters away. They had seen you tear through enemy lines with the precision of a seasoned warrior, your movements deadly and efficient. But what they hadn't seen—what they couldn’t wrap their heads around—was the life you returned to after every mission.

Because while Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz spent their leave in safe houses, military bases, or the occasional urban apartment, you?

You went home.

To the countryside.

To your massive, luxurious farmhouse nestled in the hills of a quiet village, where the air smelled of fresh hay, wildflowers, and the occasional whiff of cow.

And when TF141 finally visited, they were not prepared.

The First Time They Saw the Farm : "What the fuck—" Ghost had been the first to say it when you pulled up to your estate in an old pickup truck, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as you parked in front of a sprawling wooden house with a red-tiled roof.

There were animals everywhere.

A massive black and white cow lazily chewed its cud near the wooden fence. Chickens and roosters strutted about like they owned the place. A gray donkey stared at them with judgmental eyes. Two ducks waddled past as if they were on a mission. Dogs barked excitedly at the sight of you, tails wagging. A cat lounged on the porch, stretching in the warm sun.

And then—a fucking horse trotted up to you, nuzzling into your palm like a puppy.

"Price," Gaz whispered. "She has a fucking farm."

"A fancy one at that," Soap muttered, still stunned.

"You lot gonna stand there all day?" You grinned, tossing your duffel bag over your shoulder. "Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready."

They were bewildered. They had spent years with you, fighting side by side, seeing you covered in blood, sweat, and gunpowder—and now you were leading them up the front porch of your cozy countryside mansion like a perfect little housewife.

And the worst part? They liked it.

You, The Deadly Soldier and The Perfect Housewife

Soap had expected you to relax on your leave. Maybe sleep in, drink some tea, read a book.

But no.

You were up at the crack of dawn, slipping out of bed before any of them could pull you back in, dressed in overalls and a white tank top, heading out to feed the animals like it was just another mission.

"Morning, sweetheart," Price murmured, leaning against the doorway as he watched you toss hay to the horses.

"Morning, Captain," you teased, kissing his scruffy cheek before moving on to collect eggs from the hens.

Ghost watched in silence, arms crossed, as you scolded a particularly feisty rooster. "You peck me one more time, and I swear to God, I’m making soup outta you."

Gaz almost choked on his coffee when you turned around and gave them the sweetest, most innocent smile.

"You boys want breakfast?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at a massive wooden table in your warm, sunlit kitchen, eating fresh farm eggs, homemade bread, and smoked bacon.

And Soap was ready to propose.

Domesticity With a Side of Chaos

Price: Loves sitting on the porch with a cigar, watching you work. He helps with repairs, fixes fences, and absolutely adores the peacefulness of your home.

Ghost: The animals are terrified of him at first (except the donkey—the donkey hates him). But the barn cats adopt him, curling up in his lap whenever he sits down.

Soap: Thinks farm life is the best thing ever. He learns how to milk a cow, names every single chicken, and gets way too attached to a piglet.

Gaz: "Babe, I love you, but this rooster is evil." (He got chased one too many times.)

And at night?

After a long day of farm work, you slip into something soft and lacy, curl up in their arms, and remind them that you’re not just a soldier, not just a farmer—you’re theirs.

They Never Want to Leave

By the end of their stay, not a single one of them wants to go back.

"You sure we have to leave?" Soap pouts, feeding the ducks.

"Darlin’," Price murmurs against your neck one night, arms wrapped around you in bed, "Ever thought about retirin’ here? With us?"

Ghost doesn’t say it out loud, but when he watches you laugh, your hands covered in flour as you bake bread, he knows he never wants to be anywhere else.

And Gaz?

He just sighs, watching the sunset over the hills. "I never thought I’d say this, but…I think I’m in love with farm life."

They were all in love. With you. With this. With the life they could have, if only they stayed.

Maybe one day.

For now, they’d enjoy every stolen moment in their countsyde paradise. But what if we make thing spicy ? A little bit, at least.

Ghost Was The First To Break

Ghost had held strong. Longer than the others.

While Soap got weak-kneed watching you bend over to pick up hay, and while Gaz couldn’t stop staring at your thighs in those tiny denim shorts, Ghost had kept his cool.

Until that damn sundress.

White. Light. Flowy. Just enough fabric to tempt, but never satisfy—clinging to your curves, slipping off your shoulders as you carried a bucket of water to the horses.

He had been cleaning his rifle on the porch, but his grip tightened the moment he saw the fabric sway with your every step.

And then?

You had the audacity to look over your shoulder and wink at him.

He dropped the rifle.

Soap Lost It In The Barn

Soap had always been shameless about his attraction to you.

But you?

You were even worse.

It was an accident—(was it?)—when you walked into the barn one night, looking for something. The others were inside, drinking whiskey in the house, but Soap had been alone, brushing down one of your horses.

And then he saw you.

Wet.

Covered in rain.

Your thin white blouse clung to you, completely see-through, nipples pebbled against the fabric.

"Lass," he had rasped, watching as you closed the barn door behind you, stepping forward, voice all honeyed and sweet.

"Johnny," you had purred, voice dripping with something that wasn’t innocence, "I’m cold."

He snapped.

The horse had seen things that night.

Price Was The Most Dangerous

Price was a man of control.

A man of restraint.

A man who knew how to bide his time.

But you?

You tested him.

You liked to push. You liked to see how far you could go before he gave in.

And God help you—you found his limit.

It was late. The others were asleep. You were making tea in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes to reach a mug from the top shelf.

Price had walked in just as your nightgown slipped up your thighs.

It wasn’t fair.

The soft, white cotton. The little lace trim. The way your bare legs looked so smooth, so inviting—and the sleepy way you turned, so unaware of what you were doing to him.

You looked up at him, mug in hand, and smiled. "You want some tea, Cap?"

And then—his hands were on your hips.

Voice rough.

"You know damn well what I want, sweetheart."

Gaz Had It The Worst

Gaz?

Gaz was a goner the first time he saw you in nothing but boots and his shirt.

You had come in from the field soaked in sweat, hair messy, thighs speckled with dirt. You had tossed your muddy clothes into the laundry room, grabbed his green tactical shirt, and walked around the house like it wasn’t driving him insane.

"Babe," he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, watching you stretch, the hem of his shirt riding up to dangerous levels.

You blinked. All innocent. "What’s wrong?"

Gaz was a patient man. A respectful man. A man who was about to lose his goddamn mind.

"Come here."

You smirked, walking over slowly, pressing your hands to his chest.

"You’re so easy to rile up," you giggled.

His hand wrapped around your throat.

"And you’re about to learn what happens when you push too far."

[groovypandapainterzonk]

This reminds me of a time when I was cashiering. My manager and I were chitchatting during a breather, and a lady brought her little son over. Apparently the little guy had shoplifted (idr if it was a toy or candy, just a little thing), and his mom was spitting mad about it and he was in tears. I didn't really know what to do about it so I just thanked them for coming back, I figured no harm done and mom looked like she had already scolded him. But my manager, gosh I loved working with her, was amazing. She got down on his level and told him she was proud of him being able to admit that he did something wrong and held his hand. She then thanked his mother and told her that everything was alright (basically she calmed both of them down). After, I asked her how she knew what to say in that moment and she told me that she could tell he already felt really bad and with his mother obviously mad at him she didn't want him to feel worse after coming back. Little kids are just little people and they deserve more grace because everyone is still learning as they age.

its not funny but i do think about it a lot

[witerh]

Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart! || husband re:di daddy!leon

NSFW!

warnings: porn with a plot, fluff and smut, comfort, cook in the kitchen, blowjob, face riding, cunnilingus, pet names: «baby girl», «princess», «baby»

note: Happy Valentine's Day to you! I admired the idea of one of the drabbles, so thanks to the author for the idea! (I lost it, eh)

rating: mature

summary: you wakes up early to make you two breakfast so that it makes him happy on valentine's day after his mission!

all rights reserved!|| valentine's day event!!

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying near you.

You start the night laying on his chest, but after turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position.

You thrived on the feeling of his heavy palms on the yours body, his nose snuggled deep into the crook of your neck, hot breath burns your sensitive skin and his herculean arms wrapped around you enough so that you weren’t going anywhere; not on this morning.

His snoring was not quiet, but you learned to love it. It become the music to your ears with the opening of eyes.

And it only takes you a few seconds for it to get it. A couple of flutters of eyelashes and awakening came with the thought that this it...

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smiled weakly, excited about all things you have planned for Leon. It was necessary to part with the warm bed and sneak out of the bedroom (don't forgot about softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen.

You weren’t too worried, though. Leon didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did. You were safe. You start listing in your head all the things you wanted to make for him.

You were a jack of all trades in the kitchen. He loved coming home from missions, leaving his bike helmet to the side while he reached out to you as you cooked a hot dinner. His mouth is already watering at the sight of the warm plate on the kitchen table.

Gratitude in the form of a juicy kiss on the lips. Oh, shit!

You slave away in the kitchen, frying the wafers and topping them with cream and sliced strawberries, making sure everything was perfect.

You go to check on the sleeping husband. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view: his dark hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge dick tightening his briefs.

You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good.

You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals… It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Leon , who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor. You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up.

You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan. Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support. You start to feel Leon‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow. His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use.

You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him. Faint «mmhm's» were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing. You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a wet pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Well," his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, "Good morning to you too, —… Mmfuck." He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein.

You pull away with a wet smack before saying: "Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy", in the most sing song tone of voice. Leon tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, "Hey baby, so thoughtful good to me…do that again..." he pleads. "Oh!"

"Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it. "Oh-oh fuck… yeah, just like that, princess, go-o-od girl-l-l..." his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp, gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again.

“Aw shit…. I’m close, baby, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princess…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, "Open," and you do as he asks, "ehh, so-o good girlie!"

You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, "Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo—"

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Leon guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he mumbles against your lips. He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere, pretty.”

He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your «throne».

Placing your hands on his body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Leon’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view. “So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a plushie.

“You are such a beauty, you know that, baby? Wanna make you feel good, baby.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Leon could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world.

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again. One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips. "Prettiest pussy ever. Fuck, you’re so wet, princess, did I do that?"

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole. "Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Leon—" He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, baby." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy. Leon is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side.

His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his «mmph» the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Leon wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you.

A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"L-leon��" sigh, "I-I can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop-don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body.

The only thing on your mind was Leon's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further. "Mmmph, fuck!... don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want,"

You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Leon was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you're,” smack, “wakin' me up like this…” smack. An octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Leon greedily drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for set weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Leon finally let you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths.

He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "Awww, my princess gets all shy when I make her cum, ehhh?" With Leon’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top.

Then he goes in for a romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his muscles against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you.

You can feel his cock twitch against your too much stimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does. "Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl. Have I told you how much I love you?"

You manage a tired smile, “I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I completely forgot you must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back near him.

"Baby, I think I was very hungry before, but you fed me."

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

P*RNSTAR- J. TODD, D. GRAYSON, P. PARKER

pairing: boyfriend! p*rnstar!jason todd x p*rnstar!dick grayson x p*rnstar!peter parker x girly!fem! reader

word count: 3.5k

summary: after months of dating jason, you finally muster the courage to ask if you can be in one of his videos... with some company. aka his two best friends dick and peter-to get all the right angles, of course.

warnings: SMUT! threesum!, daddy kink, size / manhandling kink, swearing, pet names, innocence kink, porn mentioned ofc, heavy praise, overstimulation, light spanking, giving and recieving head, fingering, cumming inside, masterbation, jason is super possesive- the boys tease the hell outta him... (this is super dirty heh)

quick authors note- thank you to the lovely person who left a threesum request in my inbox, i had this idea for a while to do something with this song in mind- so happy i could write this :) happy reading and happy valentines day<3

"i wanna hear you talking dirty/ i wanna see it on your face/ i wanna feel you put the work in/ i wanna watch you entertain / flashing red light (baby, baby, baby)/ baby, you're a star/ fuck me all night/ (show me, show me, show me)/ show me who you are/ pornst-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ar (pornstar)"- p*rnstar, nessa barrett

Some things you knew, but you didn't.

Like when it came to your boyfriend's income.

He had more money than you could ever dream of. And yet- it was still a blurry line of where exactly he got it all.

Jason had pulled you aside before things got serious between you two- indicating what he did for a living. It wasn't a dinner table conversation at the busiest restaurant in Gotham, but he wasn't ashamed of himself.

He was worried about what you would think.

If you’d splash your glass of wine in his face, and be done with it.

But you were calm and understanding when he told you about his OnlyFans. About how dozens of his Twitter videos had gotten millions of views, with him as the main attraction.

He didnt work in the professional industry, he had assured you- there was no film crew, bright lights and casting calls. It was just him and his phone, sometimes a mask or two.

He was nearly appalled when you just smiled, squeezing his hand.

“That doesn't bother me Jason, I promise. Nothing you could say or do could be a deal breaker for me.”

You didn't really understand it all, how it all worked- but you were supportive nonetheless.

He couldn't help but chuckle slightly when a few minutes later you asked him if he filmed with anyone else. Not that you were jealous or anything if there was- it was work and all, you had quickly added.

“No one else sweetheart. Just me.”

And that had been enough of an explanation for you.

You didn't love him for his money, obviously- but it was definitely a nice bonus. He always lavished you in diamonds and lace- leaving fancy little lingerie pieces on the bed he’d hand pick for you to wear.

“Fuck, we’re gonna have to get you in a video soon sweetheart. Look how pretty you are for me, yeah?” he cooed in your ear as he fisted your hair in his hand, forcing you to look over into the mirror as he pounded into you from behind.

It drove you crazy.

You matched his freak in other ways, you were eager to learn new things and he loved to take care of you- practically using you as a doll for him to fuck however he wanted.

One night he had caught you watching one of his videos you had found on Twitter, your little pants and moans leading him right to the bedroom when he got home late from drinks with his friends.

“Whatdya think you’re doing, sweetheart?” he called from the doorway, making you gasp and quickly pull your hand out from your sleep shorts.

“I’m s-sorry I was just seeing- Just wanted to know what you liked..” you trailed off, squirming as he took heavy strides over to the bed, lifting your head to slide his large knee under it, supporting your weight.

“Well don't stop on my account princess. Show daddy how you touch yourself, yeah? All nice n wet f’me?”

You couldn't get that night out of your mind.

It had been a week since he had caught you in the act, and instead of embarrassed you felt… hornier.

Somehow.

It didn't make sense, you were rather shy and quiet when it came to sex- unless Jason guided you to let go (which you loved). Sex wasn't foreign to you by any means- I mean, your boyfriend was a pornstar for god's sake.

But this?

This weird sense of courage, or pride to show yourself off with him? It was foreign.

You had sat on the idea for a little, and the more you thought about filming with him, the more wet your panties seemed to get at the idea.

It got to the point where you were so caught up in it, Jason had to sit you down on his lap- something he often did when you were either sad, anxious, clingy or in subspace- in the middle of the day.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? You’ve been distracted all week. What's on your mind pretty?”

“S’nothing Jay.” you mumbled into his shirt, body going taunt as his hand came down to stroke your head.

“Princess you know better than to hide from me, yeah? Use your big girl words and tell  me what's going on inside that beautiful mind.”

You clung to his shirt, scrunching the fabric with a closed fist as you cleared your throat.

“I just- I was thinking a lot, lately. About, your work.” He stilled.

“And I think, if you’re okay with it, I’d maybe like to be in a video. If you’d let me, if you’re comfortable- I mean.”

Jason was frozen. All you could hear was his gentle breathing, the rise and fall of his chest as you lifted your head, peering up at him.

“Jay?”

“Are you sure angel? You really wanna do that?”

You nodded.

“I think it would be fun. And sexy. Ya know, like you showing me off…” you trailed off, and he smirked.

“You like that, don't you?”

“Maybe a little.”

He cooed at your confession, slowly starting to bounce his knee, just the way he knew drove you crazy. He swore he could hear you purring, like it was a cat who was curled on his thick thighs, and not the sweetest, most precious and innocent little angel he had ever laid eyes on.

Who had just confessed she wanted to film content with him.

Who knew what other tricks she had up her sleeve?

He was eager to find out. And even more eager to show you off, and remind everyone that you were his girl.

-----------------------------------------------

You had two other tricks up your sleeve.

And those two tricks consisted of Dick Grayson and Peter Parker. His friends, who just so happened to also film content.

Peter seemed to be just as surprised as you were, for going through with this- but more so at Jason.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to share your princess Jason. So possessive all the time, isn't he Dick?” was the first thing he said as he entered, tossing you a flirty little wink.

Jason responded with a growl, entirely proving his point as he started to shield you from the two men who flung themselves down on the couch, peering over at you with nothing but a look of hunger at your innocent little outfit- you had your thigh highs on with your short little pink skirt you knew drove Jason wild.

It seemed to drive more then just him wild, though.

“Jay..” you murmured, placing a gentle hand on his bicep,poking out from behind his towering body.

“I’m doing this for my girl. So make her happy, or so be it..” he grumbled at the guys, making Dick smirk cockily.

“Oh we’ll make her happy alright.”

“She’s so meek, like a little kitten. It's adorable, really.” Peter cooed, leaning over to look at you.

“I don't think we’ve met before angel. But Jason talks our ears off about you.”

“Good things I hope.” you giggled, your eyes meeting with Jasons. There was a darkness in them that you only saw when he was feeling feisty, when you acted out.

Good.

“Only the best things.” Dick chimed in, adjusting himself so he manspread on the couch, and you fought the urge not to stare at the prominent bulge that strained his gray sweats.

You felt a hand slip to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the skin as Jason tugged you closer to him.

“You’re gonna have to stop being so possessive someday Jason. This might be good for you. Like exposure therapy, or whatever.” Peter tsked, eyeing where his hand lay.

“Two rules.” you said, getting everyone's attention, three sets of eyes on you, all perked with attention.

“I want Jay in the room at all times. And, um if for whatever reason if I need to stop or don’t like something, we’re gonna take a breather.”

“Hon, thats a given. One hundred percent, no question.” Dick reassured, Peter nodding beside him in agreement. “And don’t feel pressure about money or anything okay? Even if you decide to suddenly stop- there's no pressure. Money is already on the table for you baby.” Peter added, making you chirp out a little giggle.

“Oh I’m not worried about money, I get plenty of that from him.” you looked over at Jason, his eyes soft and gentle as they stared into yours, as if he was relinquishing in the moment that this was really happening.

That he’d be able to show you off, and know that people could fantasise about your little noises as much as they wanted, but could never have them for themselves.

“I’m gonna go get her prepped. I’ll call you when we’re ready.” Jason stated gruffly, tugging you along like a lost puppy to the bedroom.

You looked over your shoulder, giving the men a little wave and a soft smile as you were guided to the bedroom, before the door shut, leaving you with Jason.

Heat pooled between your legs at the look he gave you, his hard, rough exterior dropping as soon as he was alone with you. He sat on the edge of the bed, manspreading as he silently coaxed you over to him with two fingers.

“You feelin okay pretty?” he asked gently, hand reaching up to cup your cheek, to which you nuzzled into.

He was warm.

“I’m perfect.” you said, making him hum in content. “D’want me to make you feel good baby? Get you all nice n ready before they come- have some privacy?” he cooed, canines nipping at your neck as you giggled, letting him sweep you up and guide you on the bed, lying down under him.

“Jay?”

“Mmm?” he hummed against your skin, planting gentle kisses down your neck.

“You’re mine. Ya know? You’re always mine.”

He stilled, eyes darting up to meet yours, before swiftly kissing you on the mouth with so much passion it sent shivers down your spine as you moaned, arching into the kiss.

He tasted so sweet, so good. It was only when he parted you realized you needed air, letting out a little gasp.

“I know honey. You got that tattoo to prove it. I’m not worried.” he winked, patting your inner thigh gently at the little heart that poked out from under your skirt.

“And you know-” he leaned in close, breath hot and heavy as it ticked your ear. “No one can make you feel as good as I can. They may think they know you, what you like- but I know you sweetheart. You’re mine.”

You moaned, and he cooed at you in content as you wiggled your hips, desperate for friction.

“Can you lift those pretty lil legs for me honey? Drape them over my shoulders, like we always do?” you nodded, complying immediately as you bent them up, so your thigh high socks brushed his skin.

“Gooooood girl. You’re always so good, aren't you?”

His fingers darted down to feel the wet spot through your panties, the pads of his fingers moving in gentle circles as you groaned.

“J-jay-”

He quickly tugged off your little cotton panties in one fluid motion, exposing your bare cunt to him. He bent you forward even more, so your legs were near touching the bed behind you as he examined you.

“Such a pretty lil cunt. So tight too.” he chuckled, rubbing a finger through your soaked folds, tapping your clit and making you jump before he slid a finger in, making you moan loudly.

“Yeah, that's the spot isn't it? Hey, hey look at me-” he guided, other hand coming up to squeeze your cheeks together, making your eyes stare into his.

“It's just us, okay princess? Just you n me. Keep looking at me, I know, I know it feels so good doesnt it?”

“Yess, yes fuck Jay-”

“Thats not my name, sweetheart.” he tsked, curling his finger as he slowly started to pump in and out of you, making you mewl.

“Daddy fuck.” you moaned, head loling to the side as you let bliss take over you- his sign to add a second finger.

“You’re doing so well for me princess. Thats it.” he coaxed, smirking at the blissed out face you made as he went deeper.

The door creaked open, Jasons head whipping back to glare at the guys. “I thought I said I’d call you when shes ready?” he drawled, movements not faulting despite his divided attention.

“She sure as fuck sounds ready to me. Not my fault her pretty lil moans were like a sirens call. Fuck me.” Dick whistled, leaning against the door as he watched you with wide eyes, your head rolling to see him and Peter enter the room, looking at you in awe.

“Shes a natural.”

“She is natural. We don't fake around here, do we princess?” Jason asked, and you quickly shook your head before another broken moan escaped your lips as he curled his fingers again, just the way you liked.

“She likes praise. Rough play, depending on how rough. Some degradation, but I only use it if shes being bad. She may look it, but shes not breakable. Fuck her right.” Jason instructed them, acting like you werent right in front of them, overhearing all of this.

It kinda turned you on more honestly, the way they just kind of let you go.

“Shes so pretty.” Peter cooed, coming over to the bed side, placing a hand on your cheek- just as Jason had done a few moments prior. You nuzzled into his touch, breathing in the gentle smell of his cologne.

You could feel their eyes on you, but it didn't feel uncomfortable, like you were scared it would.

No, it felt… nice. Rewarding.

“I’m gona turn this on now, okay angel?”

You nodded, and the little right light flickered on. “F-fancy.” you hiccuped, making them all laugh.

“Very. Only the best for you.”

You sighed softly as Peters hand trailed down, down to your breasts, squeezing one gently.

“Be gentle with her.” Jason murmured again as he stood, letting the two other guys get a feel for you. It was only fair, you supposed.

“Hi pretty. Is it okay if I flip this up?” Dick asked, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want it off?” you asked meekly, and he shook his head. “And not show the camera how cute you are in it? In this little getup?”

He pinched your thighs. “S’not a getup its just my clothes- ohhh!” you squealed as Dick was spreading your legs apart, tounge lapping at your cunt like a man starved.

Beofre you could get out another moan, Peters two fingers slid between your parted lips, and your eyes widened in surprise before you obidenly sucked on them.

“You get her like this all the time, dressed like this? Jesus Jason we might have to come drink here.” Peter groaned, Jason only letting out a grunt in reply as he palmed himself through his pants.

“You take it so well sweetheart. Making your little boyfriend over there all hot and bothered.”

You moaned, squirming before Dick squeezed your thighs tighter, forcing you to stay in place. You almost cried at the sensation, his tongue circling your clit, tugging on the little nub.

“Think she's ready?” Peter asked. “You kidding? She’s been ready this whole time. I just wanted to get a taste. So sweet.” Dick hummed, poking his head up from between your thighs, chin glistening in the soft light.

“I get her first. Shes my girlfriend.” Dick rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine yes, yes. So bossy, isnt he? Thats no fun.” Dick hummed as Peter slipped his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop!, a trail of salvia stringing to his digits.

“Ngh-” was all you could get out as Dick flipped you over with no effort, gentle hands rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“S’okay bunny. We’re gonna let you cum as many times as you want. You can make a mess, okay?”

You nodded feverishly. “Am I doing good?”

“So good princess. So good. Can you open your mouth for Peter?” You lolled your tongue out, looking up at the man with glazed over puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck…” he murmered as he tugged down his pants, bundling your hair up in his hand. You felt Jason come over to place a gentle tap on your ass, his indication he was about to enter you.

You clenched in anticipation, barely able to get out a word before they both entered you- from opposite ends.

It was bliss.

Your moan vibrated straight down Peter's dock and he hissed as the sensation, slowly starting to work your mouth in rhythm with Jasons gentle thrusts. He wasn't as rough as he usually was, and you knew it was because of the sudden changes in the bedroom.

He didn't want you to get overwhelmed, and you were thankful for it. All the attention had you buzzing, the praise spewing from their mouths sending like prayers at mass.

“Fuck princess you’re so fucking tight. Always so tight.” Jason growled, tossing his head back in bliss as he spread your ass, plunging into you deeper. You mewled, eyes staring up into Peters, full of lust.

He looked so beautiful, peering down at you from this angle. So tall and handsome, his happy trail brushed against your nose as you took him deep, gagging slightly at his size.

The sound just spurred him on even more, as he fucked your mouth harder, before you gasped for air, tears starting to stream from your waterline.

“S’much, so big-” you sputtered out, gasping for air, mascara smudging down your cheeks.

“My pretty little girl, did so good.” Dicks hands caressed you, hiking up your shirt, for the skin on skin contact.

He let out a little gasp, fingers tracing the ink that dotted your lower back. “My god…” he murmured at your tramp stamp that said princess, with little swirls and stars.

Jason had got it for you, holding your hand the whole time, and planting kisses on your head as you braved through the pain. You had wanted one for months, but could never find the courage to get one, or the money to be spending freely on things like that.

Until- you met Jason, of course.

“I know. Ain't she a treat? Helped her pick it out myself.” Jason smirked, giving your ass a smack.

“Daddy..” you whimpered, head falling down into the sheets without Peter's support.

“My turn. You’re on exposure therapy, remember?” Dick said, about to shoo Jason off before you cried out.

“W-wait I’m about to cum just- please, please-” you begged, more tears starting to stream down from your eyes from the overstimulation your body was feeling.

Legs began to shake as Jason grumbled something incoherent, fucking you harder and deeper, so hard you started to jolt forward down into the sheets.

You reached your hand out and you felt Peters hand cup over yours, his thumb softly stroking your skin in little circles. “You’re doing so good honey. You feelin good? Gonna cum for your daddies?"

You whimpered, nodding as you squeezed his hand as you cried out loudly, cumming on Jason's dick with no warning.

“Fuck. Fuck good girl princess I’m gonna fuck- fucking stay there and let me fill you up.” he groaned, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before you felt the warm, sticky liquid fill up your insides.

Dicks eyes widened in shock, completely forgetting about the camera that was currently focused on the four of you, whipping his head to Jason.

“Wait can you d-”

“M’on the pill.” you heaved out, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck. Fuckin hell, move.” Dick groaned, quickly taking Jasons place, wasting no time to plunge deep into you, shoving Jasons leaking cum back inside as he fucked you slowly.

You swore you saw stars behind your eyes as Peter started to slip his fingers back in your mouth, relieving your oral fixation.

You cried out, muffed between his digits as Dick picked up the pace, just as Jason did. Hitting spots you could only dream of.

“I know baby I know that was a stretch wasn’t it? But I promise it’ll feel so good, you’re doing so good for me- aren’t you? My sweet thing.” he cooed, making your eyes roll.

“J-jay is s’much. So, so much.”

“I know princess, you wanna stop? Just say your word.”

You shook your head. “N-gh- no I wanna keep going just- just need you here.” you reached for his hand squeezing it as well.

It was so big and rough, swallowing your palm whole. You looked over into his soft gaze, a little smile on his face that he saved only for you.

“I’m here princess. Daddys right here for his lil girl.”

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Some charges my aunties and uncles carried well into the 90s without pardon or exonneration of any kind:

Substance possession, esp weed, ecstasy, cocaine/crack, meth, etc

Cross-dressing (aka wearing more than the allowed number of "opposite sex clothing items, including undergarments that were not visible)

Solicitacion/suspicion of prostitution (the latter is the charge a trans auntie got for carrying condoms on her to a partner's house, the former charge was both accurate and forced on partners across multiple people in my life)

Vagrancy (got outed during a cruising bust and was evicted/blacklisted from all affordable rentals)

Sexual assault/attempted murder (an HIV + trans adult getting trans panicked)

Public indecency (cruising)

Sexual misconduct in the presence of a minor (had sex in their home while a child was present in the household but not in the room)

This is a non-exhaustive list. Many people I loved who lived queerly through the 1950s-1990s had multiple charges in their past. Few had none.

The goal is to criminalize every path to existence we have, and there is a reason that approach is scary and effective.

It also is absolutely not the all powerful steamrolling force people (on borh sides of the conflict) pretend it is.

I grew up in a thriving community of dykes, faggots, queers, drag queens/kings, intersex folks, and trans people. There were enough of us, even in 1998, to fill a 300 person hall for an AIDS memorial during pesach one year, just in the valley. We lived, we loved, we raised children and families, and we waged a background war for our fucking lives.

It is happening again and for many that will be terrifying. I will not lie to you and tell you not to be afraid or that we will suffer no losses. That 300person hall also had near on 150 empty chairs for the dead that year. But I need people to understand that waging the war only feels scary and overwhelming A) in the beginning when you are not yet sure how to fight, and B) when you are alone, overwhelmed, and feeling helpless in the face of a pressing threat. The rest of the time, you will find that the process of learning effective solidarity and resistance is way faster than you think.

I called my mother on Valentine's day and we talked a bit about what it's like as two queer people across generations, to be back here where we were together in my early childhood, and how my mother feels seeing these conversation return after she got nearly a decade of peace and retirement from activism because she believed it was time to pass the torch. She reminded me of a story she used to tell me when I was little

Mom worked for IBM on some major contracts, and she would sometimes find herself out back with the other engineers for a smoke break. Once, a man started talking about the news updates on AIDS: it was spreading amongst not just IV drug users and queers, but amongst heterosexual middle class folks who had never used or swung or sold or anything. At first the conversation is empathetic to the sick, and mom lets her guard down.

"And then he says "but now it's infecting people who don't deserve it. They called it the Gay Plague back then, you know? And I don't know what happened, but the next thing I remember I'd thrown my cigarette in his face, backed him against a wall, and was snarling "NO ONE has EVER deserved this" and you know. He never said anything like that around me again. I don't know if he changed his mind, but from that moment on, he knew that we were in the room with him, and that was enough to get him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The reason they want us scared is because they want to be able to pretend we're never in the room with them. They want to be able to count on our silence, on our cowering and hiding in self preservation. And I don't blame anyone who gives that because we're surviving here, that's not my place to decide for you. But that was the day I learned that I will NEVER allow them to pretend I'm not in the room again."

Criminalization is a form of liminal expulsion of the undesireable from the shared social perception/narrative. If they can imprison us for our basic existence, they can remove us from the room or make it more likely we hide in the shadows. But this is what we mean when we say that they cannot kill us in any way that matters. Every loss, every death matters, but so does every life lived in silence and shadow. And I cannot emphasize enough how many more of the latter there have been in the world.

So if they want to kill us, we will fill their world with the utopia of the love we find in the dark. If they want to banish us we will live out loud until even they can't escape us. If they want to erase our history, I will personally scream it from every rooftop I have access to.

Liminality is a weapon against us, but it has also always been ours more than it is theirs. We make it, breathe it, and change it with our very being. Never forget that you are the culmination of generations of love, life, and survival. We have seen enough attempts at genocide in the world now to know that the meaning of our lives is not what they make it possible to do to us but what we create to stop them.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One and Only

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You meet your biggest fan.

Based on response: She’s famous & he’s a stalker fan? 1940s au?

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This is #1 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’m sending the script this afternoon, honey,” Gerald promises through the speaker. You hold the receive to your ear and suppress a sigh. It’s a blessing that he can’t see your expression. ‘Honey.’  

“Sure thing, Ger,” you reply as you try to peer through the foggy glass pane. What a miserable February. 

“Screen tests start Monday,” he intones, as if you’ve not done this before. What number is this? You signed a contract for ten pictures, this is number seven of the lot. You cannot wait to shop around for a new studio. 

“Yes, Ger,” you answer dully. “See ya then.” 

“Three o’clock. There about,” he girds. 

“I’ll be around. Monday, then, Ger.” 

“Monday, honey.” 

You hang up. You arch your brow as your lips move with the retort you’re under terms and conditions not to say. ‘If you want honey, Gerald, go find a hive.’ You sigh to your content and adjust your rob beneath the satin belt cinched around your waist. 

There’s a knock at the door. You look at the clock in its ivory frame. It must be the mailman. You answer and accept his bundle. Some from those who watch your pictures and a letter from your sister. You shuffle through them and leave them scattered over the kitchen table. 

You pace. You’d hoped to have that script early. You might not be very happy with the films they’ve put you on but learning lines at least keeps your mind busy.  

As you sweep through the entryway, your satin robe catches the air and sends a breeze around the space. There’s a scuff along the hardwood that snags on the tassled corner of the rug. You must’ve dropped it when you took the handful from the mailman. 

You bend to pluck up the scrap of paper, folded in a tight square. When you untuck the corner, it forms a sort of accordion. You carefully unfold it, careful not to tear it. You reveal its sparse contents. 

The crosshatch of an inky nib has formed an image. One you vaguely recognise as yourself. The war feels like ages ago though it only just ended. It’s back to business as usual. No more tours through Europe, no more riding in cargo bays with the prettied up dances. Everything is all so dull these days. 

In the hastily scratched portrait, your hair is painfully twisted into victory rolls and the military cap pinned at just the right angle. You remember the soldiers, the worn gray palour and dark circles, the tatters in their uniforms as the complained for drawing lines up their legs to mimic the nylon these men needed to jump out of planes. 

You examine the torn edge and a few blots of ink and some other dark hue. There’s a scrawl in the corner. Loopy writing; ‘Happy Valentines. Only you on my mind. JBB’. Those messages are not unexpected. You are thankful for your admirers if not at time, perturbed by their assumptions of familiarity. Yet, you’ve chose the studio lights and camera lenses. It comes with the territory. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s three o’clock. Bucky’s watch is set, tightly strapped to his right wrist. Out of habit, he looks to the left and finds nothing. His shoulder is itchy where his muscles should tug but there’s nothing there. Just a pinned sleeve and frustration. 

He clears his throat and keeps the thick bound folder under his arm. The boy gave him no trouble, asked no questions. I’m the porter, kid, I’ll see it to her. No need to go bothering the lady. 

He marches down the winding stone walk. His car is near the sprawl of pine. He misses his motorcycle but he can’t figure how to steer it with one hand. Even the steering wheel gives him a bit of trouble. 

He presses his arm tighter to the script as he approaches the stoop. There’s a round stone platform before the door that forms steps up to the entrance. Moulds of ancient Greek statues stand in small alcoves beneath the lights on either side of the door frame.  

He stops before the door and bends his head as he tries to fix his hair. He shaved for this. It’s been a while. He spent long with the scissors, clipping through the shanks than he did with the razor. That’s another thing that’s harder. He struggled to get just the right angle around the left side of his jaw. There’s a nick there. 

He straightens up and stares at the arched door. He needs to knock. He has to step close and batters his knuckles on the wood. He backs up and looks down. He hasn’t worn a suit since he came home. They made him do it as they shouted ‘victory’ in the streets. 

He waits. No answer. He looks around. She has a bell. He shifts around then uses his nose to press it. Damn arm. 

He fixes his posture and smiles, then quickly wipes it away. You don’t want to look strange. No, not like some of the men they took off the lines. They got that glassy look. Some of them couldn’t do anything but laugh or cry. 

Her shadow darkens under the door before she opens it. She’s surprised by him. She bats her long lashes. They are naked, like the rest of her face. He’s just as stunned to see her in her natural form. No cosmetics, all her. She’s even more gorgeous. 

“Oh, I was expecting Stuart,” she greets him. “Pardon,” she tries to fix her hair. She wears a satin robe and slippers with feathers. “You have it?” 

She gestures to the script. He looks down at it and slides it down to his hands. He examines the cover. 

“Uh, yes, ma’am, miss,” he forgets everything he meant to say. All those lines he rehearsed in the dark theatre. The script he wrote when he lay restless in his bed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she reaches for it. He hesitates to hand it over. 

“I saw you. In the Hague,” he says as she latches onto the spine. He doesn’t let go. 

She looks at him. She has a serene look on her face, even as her eyes wander down to his pinned sleeve. She almost seems to brighten. 

“With the company?” She asks. “You saw me on stage?” 

“You’re real funny, miss,” he bounces on his heels. “Charming.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do for your men. You gave so much,” she keeps a hold of the script. 

He looks at his left shoulder then at her. 

“Some things were taken,” he grumbles. 

She blanches, “pardon me, sir, I didn’t mean--” 

“I just wanted to say,” he overrides her apology. She doesn’t need to be sorry. “When I was in the medic’s tent, all those weeks, it was you. You got me through. I saw ya in the magazines. They were old, you know? Don’t get them hot off the press in the field.” 

“Sure,” she utters, he feels the tension in the folder as she tries to wiggle it away. “What’s your name, sir?” 

“James,” he answers. “James Buchanan Barnes.” 

She smiles, “that’s a lovely name. I do appreciate you coming to give me this. And for everything else.” 

He lets go of the folder. He expected more. She might invite him in for a drink. He did lose a fucking arm so the ladies could keep their precious slippers and robes. And he came all the way down her to give her that lump of papers. 

“You have a good day, sir,” she slowly inches the door forward. 

Where are her goddamn manners? 

He slaps his hand against the door and she squeaks in fright. He keeps her from closing it in his face. He cleaned himself up nice for her, he sent her a letter. He’s sent her at least a hundred. He signed them all JBB. She knows him. 

So why is she trying to shut him out? 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble back as the man shoves the door out of your grasp. You gasp and the grip the script with both hands, like a shield. He steps inside calmly. 

“James,” you say his name, “what are you doing?” 

“The least you can do is ask me in, doll,” he snarls. The sudden shift in his demeanour fills you with dread. 

“No, James, I did not. You need to leave--” 

He swings the door shut and marches toward you. You raise the script and bring it forward, aiming it at him in a desperate attempt to fend him off. He knocks it away easily. He's strong. Still a soldier even in street clothes. 

“James,” you hold your palms up helplessly, “please, forgive me if I’ve--” 

“Shhhh,” he reaches between your hands and grabs you by the jaw. “I just... I want to... did you get my letters?” 

“Letters?” You gulp, writhing in his hold as you gently touch his forearm. “Well, James, I get many letters--” 

“I write to you every day,” he hisses. “It’s me. JBB.” 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Stop saying my name,” he sneers. 

You shut your mouth, your lip poking out as it trembles. You stare at him, petting his sleeve, hoping you can calm him. The war changed a lot of men. It stole a lot of them too. 

“I just... I love you, doll. You got me through. You kept me breathing,” he growls as he walks her backward. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You whimper, “why don’t you let me go and I’ll pour you a drink?” 

He stops and his brows pinch together. He looks to his left, where your liquor cabinet stands in the dining room. Where your phone is... 

“No,” his eyes flick back to you. “No, I don’t drink.” 

He pushes you until your heels meet the bottom stair. Your right slipper falls off and he tips you over the incline. You fall beneath him as he follows you down. You push on his chest and wriggle. 

He straddles you beneath him as he looks you up and down. His knees are on the step by your hips, his heels two down. You brace the sharp edge and whine. 

“James...” 

He hushes you as his thumb rubs beneath your cheekbone. He stares at your body, his chest rising and falling heavily. You push yourself down into the stairs. 

“Open your robe,” he demands. 

Your lip quivers violently as you bat back tears. You do as he says. You unknot the belt and slowly draw it open. You tug the satin apart and reveal your silky nightgown. The fabric cling to you like water. 

He shudders as his jaw squares. He bites his lip and shifts over you. He leans in slowly and your eyes meet as he gets closer. They are blue and deep like the ocean. You shiver as his nose touches yours. 

He exhales and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Show me the bedroom,” he growls.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He lets her up cautiously. She steadies her feet and turns up the staircase. She limps up, click, clap, click, clap. He bends to pick up her slipper and follows. 

As she reaches the top, he stops her with her name. She pauses. He gets down and she doesn’t react until he shows her slipper. She puts her foot through. He stands and points her onward. 

He couldn’t climb to see through the bedroom window. He only ever saw the first floor. She hugs herself as her robe flutters around her figure. She opens the door at the end of the hall. She steps back to let him through and he tuts. 

He makes her go in first. She enters and sweeps around, far from him. He elbows the door shut. She cowers by the wall as he strides around.  

There’s a phone beside the bed. He grabs it and yanks it free of the cord. Her slippers suddenly click in a flurry. He drops the phone and catches her at the door. He crushes her against it so it snaps back into the frame. 

“Doll, don’t be doin’ all that,” he warns as he pinches her neck and urges her away from the door. She whimpers and he turns her to face the bed, “robe off.” 

He lets her go. She pulls away and drags his hands down her neck. She shyly pushes the robe from her shoulders and peels it off her body. The silk nightgown swathes her perfectly. Her shape is so full and soft. 

She drapes the robe over the bedpost and shies away. He clucks and snaps his fingers. 

“Doll,” he looks down at himself. He has the whole getup. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt. All for her. “Need your help.” 

She faces him. Her eyes glimmer like gems. She watches his hand smooth down his jacket and he unbuttons it. 

She nears him. She smells like vanilla. She brings her hands up. They shake. She must be excited. How could she not be? Finally, they’re together. 

He grabs his lapels and guides the jacket back. She’s tender with the folded sleeve and tickles his hemmed shirt beneath. She carries the jacket to the seat by her vanity and returns to him. He can see her pulse in her throat, it’s going just as fast as his. 

She unbuttons his vest and slips it off him. Her touch is soothing. Then she undoes his tie, her fingers brushing his throat. She unveils him, piece by piece, as his stomach clenches and unclenches. 

She stalls as she gets to his trousers. Her fingers twiddle just before the button. 

“It’s your first time,” he drawls. “Dont’ gotta be shy, doll.” 

She looks at him and swallows. She nods stiffly then puts her eyes down. The unplucks the front of his pants. He can make it nice for her. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

First time... 

Nope. You won’t say you haven’t made mistakes. Still, you won’t chance angering this man. Not more than you already have. You can keep up the act if it pays off. Not in money this time, no, your life. 

You stand back as he’s naked before you. Your wipe your damp palms on your nightie. He hangs his head. You can’t help but stare at his scars. The tortured flesh around his shoulder that extends onto his chest. Looks like a burn. 

His eyes startle you. You meet them. He steps closer. 

“Your turn,” he growls. 

You look down and reach for the thin lace straps of the night gown. You slide them down and shimmy the silken sheath down your figure. Your chest peeks over and he inhales audibly. As you push the fabric past your hips, he groans. 

Your eyes wander up for an instant. He's hard, bobbing shamelessly as he nears. All at once, he herding you back against the bed. You fall over the foot and bounce on the mattress. 

He crushes you. He kisses your lips then your cheek, smearing saliva across your face with his frantic hunger. You close your eyes and go rigid as you let him do what he pleases. 

His voice escapes him like silt. He nuzzles and nips along your throat. He shifts onto his side and feels up and down your torso. He fondles your tits and his mouth trails his touch. He seals his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around and around. 

He hooks his leg around yours. He pulls your thighs apart and his hand traces down your stomach and pelvis. He slips his middle finger between your lips and strums at your clit. You tense and twitch as your nerves stir. 

Your breath hitches as he rubs firmly. You turn your head and bite your knuckle as a moan escapes you. You arch your back as the sparks turn to a flame. You shake through your orgasm as he drags you through it. 

He pushes another finger between your folds. He rubs up and down, smearing your juices around as he hum. He lifts his head and nuzzles your cheek. 

“Kiss me, doll.” 

You pull your hand away and press your lips to his. His tongue delves into your mouth as his fingers slide into your cunt. He growls and smothers you as he rocks your pelvis. The heel of his hand rests against your clit and your toes curl as you writhe. You bend your legs as he lights another fire in you. 

He tilts his hips, rubbing his cock on your leg as he humps you in time with his fingers. Your walls squeeze and tremour and your climax again. You whine into his mouth and he drinks it in. 

He drags his fingers free and wipes your pleasure on your thighs. He parts from your mouth and heaves himself onto his knees. He kneels between your legs and traces the curves of your body with his hand. 

“Doll, please, you put me in,” he orders. “Be careful, don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You reach down without hesitation. You want this over with. You just hope he leaves after. 

You grab his cock and angle it down against your cunt. You flinch as his tip brushes your clit and you push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and he shakes. He grunts as he tenses and inches into you. 

He grits his teeth and exhales through his nose as he impales you. You constrict around him. He’s big enough to make your walls ache. He leans over you, planting his hand next to your head, and thrusts until he’s buried to his limit. 

You slap your palm against his chest and puff out through your locked jaw. You quake around him as he pulls back. His eyes fall to the crux of your bodies as he watches himself push into you again. You dig your nails into his skin. 

He snarls and bends his arm, holding himself on his elbow. He covers your mouth with his once more and rolls his hips. You whine and nearly gag around his tongue. He pumps again and again. You press against his sides as you squeeze him between your thighs. 

The bed shakes as his rhythm picks up. You push on his stomach and thigh, begging him silently to be nicer. He doesn’t heed your pleas. You give in to the ravaging of your body as he ruts wildly. You hook your hand around his bicep and clamp down to keep from biting his tongue. 

Just a bit more and it will end. Almost there. Almost free... right? 

[jack-of-heartstrings]

OH HOLY SHIT, ANARKA FANART??? This literally made my morning. I absolutely adore her and I never see this level of appreciation. She looks amazing!!!

I'm not sure about the past stuff, given Crocoduel goes out of its way to make it clear there was some huge miscommunication. It's very likely neither of their stories is quite the truth. But he says their record saved him after she left him, and she says it tore them apart, so it SOUNDS LIKE something might have happened where either they were "taking a break" or he wildly misunderstood her being upset with him as leaving him or something, and she didn't think it was over but he did, and then he went and got famous on his own, and she took it as going behind her back/abandoning her. Or something?

It would... honestly be kind of grimly funny if her pregnancy was directly a factor, too. She has anger issues even now. I could fully imagine her getting worse because early hormones and neither of them realized yet that was why. Either way, given Jagged knew Luka's name and how Anarka adamantly refused to talk about him, I kind of assume it was her choice to be full no-contact. A stubborn "I don't want your money. You made it clear you didn't want to be part of this family and I don't want you around in any capacity." Dumbass goes on to write My Guitar Is My Only Family to vent his feelings about that with no idea his kids will grow up loving the song. 😔

EITHER WAY...

God I love her. Like... One of the writers described her as "the mom everyone wants unless she's yours." She's fascinating to me.

She clearly does still have anger issues, but "your sister and I are the only ones I've never wanted to throw overboard." I still have to imagine that's a big part of why Juleka's so timid and Luka's so emotionally mature. That even if it wasn't aimed at them, Juleka still grew up watching her go off on other people and never wanted to risk adding to her stress. That Luka is like this partly due to learning to watch for times Juleka was holding her tongue, and partly because he himself was more stubborn and abrasive for a while. That Anarka always did her best to keep herself more in check when dealing with the kids but she and Luka still used to get into arguments about things like her refusing to disclose any information about their dad, leading to him often running off to the bridge to calm down, like he's mentioned to Marinette. And that learning to accept and process all that has led to his "it's not worth it" and walking away faster from arguments now.

I still imagine she's always done her best and succeeded for the most part. She supports the kids in everything they want to do. I've been a little feral over the cameo in Sublimation showing her teaching music and fully want to believe that's been her job for a long time, in other schools, because yeah that makes sense. Turning her passion into a more mundane job that helps other people... And that makes Luka's dream of not being a musician but giving other people the gift of music in another way that much better. 🥹

Also?

Her name is Anarka Couffaine. LIKE... It can be loosely translated as "Anarchy of the coffin" (/"from the grave"?) AND it's a pun on acouphène / "tinnitus". I am 1,000% convinced this woman as a musician gave herself the edgiest stage name imaginable, legally changed it, and then just casually passed that name onto her kids. Her name was probably like, Nancy or something. (Anything "less cool" could work but that one could explain Jagged calling her Nanarky.) She just straight up went "I make my own rules" and then she did forever.

Also the Liberty is just insanely cool on its own. Delighted that it immediately became the designated Hangout Spot from its introduction onward as it should. Anarka just letting twenty kids casually come and go at all hours like. God I love her.

Young Anarka

I dunno… Like

Her past intrigued me the most out of all the adult characters, and I can't understand her mix with Jagged. Like, he cheated on her and she got pregnant? They had an open relationship? Or did they only share intimacy? Why did she never tell her kids about their father? And why didn't their father pay child support lmao…

[otakusheep15]

Twisted Wonderland Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! It's another year single for me, which means another year that I get to write about pretty anime boys.

In these, everyone is 18+, and it's implied in a bunch of them that you live together, or at least spend time at their place frequently. Everyone is included except for Ortho.

Riddle - Pottery

Something fun that also results in something practical. Riddle goes in with the plan to make things he’ll actually use, such as cups or other household items. He’s not the best at it - his hands are rather shaky, and he’s rather inexperienced when it comes to sculpting - but his efforts are worth it when he finally produces a (somewhat lopsided but still adorable) mug. He’s very proud of himself, and he shows it off to you excitedly before getting back to work, wanting to perfect the craft by the end of the date. 

Trey - Farmer’s market

It’s a bright and early morning. Stalls full of produce, baked goods, jewelery, and more all fight for your attention as you stroll through. Trey holds your hand loosely in yours so as to not separate in the crowd. He has a list of items to purchase in mind, mostly ingredients for his baked goods, but he also intends on buying you something nice. He watches you look around, catching your gaze as it stares at something just a second too long before looking away. He makes a mental note to head back to that stall after he gets what he needs, happy at the idea of spoiling you. 

Cater - Scrapbooking

Cater takes a lot of photos. Too many, some could argue. Most of them simply sit in his camera roll, never to be looked at again, and that makes you a bit sad. So, you decide to print out some of your favorite photos he’s taken, bringing them to him along with a cute scrapbook you bought. Together, you spend the night picking out the best ones from your selection, carefully taping them to the pages of the book. You also bought a bunch of cute stickers to fill in the white space, and by the end of the night, they also cover both of your faces. 

Ace - Arcade

The second you get to the arcade, Ace is immediately making a bet with you, claiming he’ll get more tickets than you by the end. He’s competitive as ever, but that’s part of his charm. The two of you run around, playing every game you can find. He gloats when he wins a game and pouts when he loses, sneakily trying to snatch some of your tickets when he thinks you’re not looking. You catch him every time, of course, and he pulls his hand back and smirks like he wasn’t doing anything. At the end of the day, who actually gets more tickets doesn’t matter, as Ace uses all of his tickets to buy you a prize of your choice. He pouts if you tease him over going soft, but the blush on his face when he hands you your prize tells you all you need to know. 

Deuce - Zoo

A surprising choice for someone like Deuce, but it’s a cute idea nonetheless. You spend the day wandering around, looking at animals and learning about them as you go. He is the type to stand there and read every plaque he can find, wanting to learn as much as he can. When he’s done, he recites all of the facts to you, wanting to sound smart. It’s adorable, but you keep that to yourself. You get lunch at a cute themed restaurant on the property, sitting down and taking a break before continuing your adventure. After you finish looking at all the animals, he takes you to the gift shop, letting you pick out a plushy of your favorite creature. He also picks one of his own so that you two match. 

Leona - Blanket fort

While Leona does certainly love showing you off in public, he also enjoys being cozy and alone with you. Staying home and building a cute fort is exactly his speed. He’s shockingly good at building forts, and you’re tempted to question if he’s done this kind of thing before. You know he’d deny it, of course, so you keep that thought to yourself. After a day of set-up, the fort is built, and you spend the night cuddling on a plush pile of pillows. It’s filled with plenty of snacks, books, and games for you to enjoy, and their are soft fairy lights littered around so that you can see. Leona keeps you as close as possible for the whole night, feeling particularly cuddly now that he has you here. 

Ruggie - Thrifting 

Even when he’s by himself, Ruggie loves going thrifting. It’s an easy way to find quality stuff for cheap, and he’s been doing it since he was little. Now, though? Now he thinks it’s much more fun when you’re with him. The two of you wander around the shop, splitting up to cover more ground. Every few minutes you’ll meet back up to show off your findings, including clothes, silly knick-knacks, and other items you manage to find. Some items are shown off just for fun, but other items you decide to purchase, placing them in a reusable bag Ruggie bought. At the end of your shopping, Ruggie purchases all of your items, bragging about how much he saved as you walk back home. 

Jack - Rock climbing

Even on dates, Jack loves working out. However, just being at a gym is boring, and he wants you to have fun as well. Rock climbing was the compromise, one that he was very happy with. It’s an indoor facility, fitted with plenty of safety features. He’s the silent competitive type, pitting himself against both you and other people, even if he keeps his challenge to himself. It’s adorable how excited he gets as he climbs higher up, and it almost distracts you from your own climbing. He doesn’t stop smiling once, and you notice his tail wagging continuously as well. It’s rare to see him this visibly excited, and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

Azul - Wine-tasting

Of course Azul would love a fancy date like this. It’s allows him to show off his money, his knowledge, and maybe even find some new clients on the side. That last one is a joke of course; you’re the only one on his mind for the whole day. He’s still showing off to you the whole time though. He picks the most expensive tasting possible, and he makes sure to study up on everything he can find in the hopes of impressing you with the information he holds. The entire time, he’s whispering fun facts the guide didn’t mention, hoping to make you smile. He also takes careful note of which drinks you prefer best, planning on surprising you with some at a later date. 

Jade - Gardening

A calm, relaxing date that allows Jade to spend time with his favorite person. He loves gardening, and doing it with you makes it even better. He teaches you about every plant he has, explaining every fact off the top of his head. Jade is very knowledgeable and passionate, his eyes lighting up every time he moves on to a new plant. He teaches you how to care for them, even letting you plant some of your own plants next to his. The whole time, he stays close to you, guiding your hands as he explains the proper steps. It’s soft and intimate and everything you could want from a date with him. 

Floyd - Laser tag

Floyd likes anything that involves running around and attacking people for fun. Laser tag sounded the most interesting to him at the time, so it’s the one he decided on. If you’re on the same team, he’s dragging you around as he looks for potential victims. Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll even let you get a couple hits in yourself. However, if you’re unfortunate enough to end up on the opposite team, you better be fast. He’ll absolutely be hunting you down, not caring about anyone else on your team until he gets you. Don’t worry though; it’s all in good fun, he swears. 

Kalim - Karaoke

This kind of date is basically everything Kalim loves. He’s alone with you, and he gets to sing! He has so much fun picking out songs, and he practically demands that you sing at least three duets with him. Naturally, he also lets you order any snacks and drinks you want. As expected, he does hog the mic a bit, but that’s just because he’s so excited to perform for you! It’s like a mini concert! He’ll absolutely sing any songs you request, and he’ll recommend you some in turn. After each song you perform, he gives you a standing ovation, showering you with praises. 

Jamil - History museum

This date is on the quieter side, which is something Jamil definitely prefers. The two of you wander around, holding hands and staying mostly quiet as you admire all the museum has to offer. He did some minor research in advance so that he could tell you more about certain exhibits, and he always seems happy when he teaches you a new fact. It's peaceful and calm, a nice break from the hustle and bustle of daily life. The two of you have a nice late lunch after your visit is over, followed by a nice stroll in a nearby part. It may not be an action-packed adventure, but Jamil wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Vil - Movie night

Vil is a nerd at heart, and he loves sharing his interests with you. In turn, he loves it when you share your interests with him. A movie night is the perfect date for the two of you in this regard. Each of you picks a couple of your favorite movies, and you binge them back to back. You cuddle on the couch, Vil’s arm wrapped tightly around you as you press into his side. He makes sure you have plenty of cozy pillows and blankets, as well as yummy snacks. If you happen to doze off, he’s the type to carry you to bed since he refuses to let you hurt your back by sleeping on the couch. 

Rook - Poetry writing

Besides hunting, Rook’s favorite hobby is writing poetry. He writes for you often, constantly gifting you new works to enjoy. Today, he wants you to indulge in the writing process with him. He makes some nice tea for himself, as well as whatever drink you like best. You set up on the couch with a stack of paper and many colorful pens. The two of you sit in mostly silence, the only sounds coming from pen against paper and the occasional sipping of drinks. Sometimes, Rokk will pause his writing to ask how your progress is going, asking if he can see what you have written so far. He praises whatever you write, even if you’re not confident in your abilities. Naturally, he shares his work with you as well, citing you as his muse. 

Epel - Bowling

Epel is nothing if not competitive, and he loves any date that involves a good challenge. It’s a playful sort of competitiveness, one with no malice behind it. He’s just here to have fun with you, even if he also wants to win. He’s shockingly good at bowling, and it makes you wonder how much experience he has at it. He gloats every time he gets a strike, and he has to stop himself from cursing when he gets a gutterball. It’s a fun date filled with a lot of playful banter and competitive nonsense. Epel also makes a bet that the loser has to buy dinner, even if he secretly planned on taking you out after regardless. 

Idia - Urban camping

Idia cannot handle the wilderness. He hates being outside during the day, so being outside at night is just about the worst thing he can think of. That being said, camping is something he’s always (secretly) wanted to experience after seeing it in one of his favorite anime. That’s why he decided that a good compromise would be urban camping. The building you live in has a flat-top roof, so he sets up camp there. He sets up a large tent, filled to the brim with fluffy blankets and soft pillows. He strings up soft fairy lights, giving the set-up a nice glow. Of course, he also provides plenty of snacks, most of which are candy. He even goes so far as to set up a projector so that you can watch movies together. It may not be your usual date with Idia, but it is a wonderful experience. 

Malleus - Painting

Malleus has always been the artistic type, so any date that involves creativity is right up his alley. Sculpting is his favorite medium, but it is also what he does most often, and he wanted to try something new. Painting is not something he’s completely inexperienced with, but it’s not something he regularly practices either, so he figured it would be perfect. The two of you set up canvases, positioning them so that you can’t see what the other is doing. You spend the afternoon dedicated to your paintings, only breaking the concentrated silence with occasional movement. When both of you are finished, Malleus reveals his painting to you. It’s a portrait of you, painted with beautiful detail. Now you can see yourself the way he does, which is absolutely ethereal. 

Lilia - Concert

Lilia is someone who enjoys more extraverted activities, so a conert is right up his alley. He doesn’t even have to know who the artist is or what genre they specialize in because he’ll have fun regardless. He spends the day carefully picking an outfit, constantly asking you for approval. It basically becomes a mini fashion show. Naturally, he helps you pick out an outfit as well. Then the two of you head off to the concert. He buys their merch, always wanting to support whatever artist he’s going to see. You have front row tickets since he’s not one to skimp out. Lilia is absolutely having the time of his life, dancing and singing along to every song. 

Silver - Stargazing

Dates with Silver are always simple and relaxing. It’s rare for you to have a specific plan in mind. As long as you’re doing something together, Silver is happy. Stargazing is the exact kind of date for someone like Silver. The two of you, out in nature surrounded by stars. Some of his animal friends are curled up beside you. Some are napping while others watch the stars with you. Silver dozes off a couple times, but he’s quick to wake back up, not wanting to fall asleep during a date, even if it is late. He is rather knowledgeable about stars, and he is more than happy to tell you all about the constellations he can find. Eventually, he does fall asleep for real, but you don’t mind. He looks so peaceful, surrounded by his critter friends, grass gently brushing against his face and the shine from the moon reflecting in a soft glow around him. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

Sebek - Library

Considering how loud Sebek usually tends to be, it might shock some to learn that he actually enjoys being in the library. For him, it’s a calming atmosphere, quiet and away from disturbances. In a library, he can find anything. If he has a topic he wants to learn about, it can usually be found in the library. He decides to take you here because it’s his safe space, and he trusts you to keep it sacred. You spend the whole day looking through books. He suggests that you pick out books for each other to check out, mostly as an excuse to show you his favorites. In turn, he gladly reads anything you choose for him, even if they aren’t his usual genre.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

saved this for valentines day because i am so astronomically down bad for this man. anyway bodyguard! chuuya 🤍🫧❄️ gn! on the first section, nsfw f! below the divider 💌

bodyguard! chuuya, who born to do this job. who is a natural protector, who can be both rough and affectionate, fiercely loyal even to a fault, even if it seals his fate. but even statues crumble if they're made to break.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has lost everything that he's ever cared about. who is sure it's a curse- that whatever comes close to his heart is sent to fall into ruins, a product of gravity. he knows that he should have faith, but finds himself questioning the universe, if he's simply destined to be alone. who contemplates even getting close to you on this job, if he'll only end up more alone.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has the powers of a god that he didn't ask for. who sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat, dreary eyes picturing glowing red marks up and down his skin, weaving around his limbs, a monstrous form he's scared of bringing to late. who sometimes feels that his desire to be human are like the last drops of an ink pen- something that isn't going to work.

bodyguard! chuuya, who isn't sure if he should open up to you, who knows that the most singing pains of the heart come from stabs while vulnerable. who knows that by admitting his faults, he opens himself up to betrayal- the one thing he hates most in the world. who learns from you that to be hurt is to be human, and that his pain is a symbol of that humanity.

bodyguard! chuuya, who barely catches himself falling for you. who starts out his task as a simple mission- protect you, and nothing more. who fails to see you cracking the locks in his chest, crashing into you like a head on collision. who falls so hard and so fast, his feelings appear to him as a paradox. he's lost everyone, and the universe is giving him another chance to protect them.

bodyguard! chuuya, who you share a vow with, one that you'll both uphold. his is to protect you, to throw himself in front of flames and bullets to keep a smile on your face. where yours is to imagine things that haven't happened yet, keeping him grounded, teaching him that it's okay to love. that he may be dangerous, or deemed wicked, or a monster, but that you don't care. that you see him for him, and thats enough for you.

bodyguard! chuuya, who does so much more than protect you from physical threats. who holds your hand during panic attacks, stroking your hair and letting you breathe with him. who holds your hair back when you throw up, and carries you back to bed. who will kiss your hand and hug you when you need someone, when you need him. who sometimes struggles to keep his longings locked, knowing he needs to protect you, and wonders if that means protecting you from him- from the monster he knows he can be.

bodyguard! chuuya, who melts in your touch, never crossing the line, never wanting to make you uncomfortable or unsafe. who, even after learning you feel the same, hesitates. he isn't supposed to love, or care. everyone who has ever come close to him has ended up leaving. who learns that you have a funny way of surprising him, of assuring him that if this isn't forever, it'll be for as long as it lasts. a star that burns out is shines brighter than infinite darkness. given the choice between forever with someone or a night with chuuya? the choice is obvious.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

bodyguard! chuuya, who is a passionate lover. who indulges in messy kisses, setting your bedsheets ablaze with every touch. who will slowly undress you, pulling down the fabric, unlacing and undoing whatever he needs. who sees more and more skin as just more area he gets to lavish and love, gazing at every part of you- from the tip of your nose to the very depths of your soul- with nothing short of perfect adoration.

bodyguard! chuuya, who talks you through it. who asks if you like this position or if his fingers feel good. who looks up at you while he goes down on you, lips wrapped around your clit, fingers angled just right, and asks if you feel good- as if you haven't been bawling his name.

bodyguard! who does it slow and passionate. making sure his cock reaches in at your deepest parts, savoring how your pussy clamps down on him. who will take your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, forehead against yours, moaning in unison with you while he drags in and out so slow its agonizingly pleasurable. who draws out your orgasms for as long as possible, rubbing circles on your clit, kissing your tits, licking your body until you're on fire.

bodyguard! chuuya, who can just as easily be an asshole in bed. who flips you around and tosses you into positions until you find one you like. who is always open to experimentation- seeing what pet names you like, how long you can go, if you like getting worshipped or punished. who doesn't stop until your gushing, melting in pleasure or getting pounded into the sheets.

bodyguard! who grits his teeth in pleasure when he takes you from the back, feeling you wrapped around his cock like a warm, wet, vice. who lets you adjust for however long you need to, sensing your impatience and desperation to feel him deep. who holds your hands behind your back, leaning down, telling you how good you're doing before fucking you into oblivion.

bodyguard! chuuya, whose idea of a date is seeing how many times he can creampie you until you're thoroughly wrecked. who takes it like a challenge, pushing your thighs up to your chest, burying himself deep, finding the right angle before stuffing you full of his seed. who sees your teary eyes, mouth stuck in an O shape and hoarse throat, he knows he's doing something right. who, after about the 3rd or 4th time he's gotten you cumming (he's lost tracked) finally stops bullying orgasms out of you and lays you down on the bed.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has found something worth protecting, laying next to you, pulling your body close to his. whispers that he'll pick up where he left off in the morning, before kissing you goodnight. <3

[vampzity]

ateez twitter links!

★ BONUS DAY: ATZ HYUNG LINE TWT LINKS ★

[ DISCLAIMER ]: the following links contain PORN which is only suitable for mature audiences!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+!! all links contain hetero content! some dont have any sound :’)

[warnings]: porn… duh!, spanking, fingering, jacking off, unprotected sex, ejaculation, anything else i missed

⭐️: author’s favorite

[ KIM HONGJOONG ]

be a good bunny: hongjoong loved calling you his little bunny— especially when you were good for him. he’d come home from work, sit you on his lap and let you grind your swollen cunt away as his hands kneaded your ass. he’d praise you for your sweet moans, for when you ran your clit just perfectly against his sensitive tip. he’d smack you enough to leave his hand print so that you knew you belonged to him and only him.

mere distraction: sometimes working on a deadline takes a toll and t was even more frustrating when you had no inspiration. you always made it a chore to drop off his dinner, but he needed to let out his hardships. you ride him with such joy, feeling his cock press against your cervix as he plays with your ass. he smacks it, squeezes it, anything he can do to ease his stress.

[ PARK SEONGHWA ]

⭐️ pillow princess: seonghwa adores everything about you. from the way you walk, to the way your face flushes red whenever he compliments you. but sometimes you drive him so nuts that he’s desperate to tear you apart. he practically offers himself to you— lets you grind your pretty pussy against his face as he drags his tongue against your slick. he especially loves it most when you squeeze his head with your thighs as you’re begging to cum. and when you do? don’t expect him to stop. he’s doing this for his own pleasure as well.

slow and steady: he was always so sensual when it came to sex. he’d gently pump himself into you, allowing you to get used to his size as his tip grazed against your sweet spot, teasing it beyond capacity. as much as he loved cumming inside of you, he loved seeing it drop down your soft skin. how pretty your pussy looked as his cum ran down your folds rather than spilled out of you. he would make sure every inch of him was inside you, forcing you to take his lanky size.

[ JEONG YUNHO ]

⭐️ such a tight fit: you loved yunho’s hands. they were so big, so veiny, and he knew they were your weakness. he also knew how well they stretched you out. whenever you were good for him, he’d promise to play with you. his long fingers would pound at your sweet spot, curling inside of you as he was rough with you. he admired how swollen your pussy was from you struggling to take them in. and god, you were so wet. he’d run his pads against your clit, your cunt glistening as you squirted onto his palm. even when you cum he’d keep going, he didn’t care how sensitive you were. you were his toy after all, so he’d keep playing with you.

i promise i’ll listen: if you thought being bad was gonna help you get your way, you’ve be gravely mistaken. now here you lay, your poor clit being abused as yunho refuses to let you cum. he starts off slow, speeding up his pace until you’re begging for more. then he stops, leaving you a sopping wet mess. maybe next time you’ll learn to stay in your place hm?

[ KANG YEOSANG ]

good boy: yeosang loved submitting to you. he’d let you do anything you wanted if it meant he got to cum. you’d make him sit there in front of you and force him to hold himself up as you stroke his needy cock. it throbbed uncontrollably in your hands as you ordered him not to cum onto your face— you didn’t want to ruin your makeup! he’d practically fold everytime you called him a good boy, even sweet boy would do him in. he was just so desperate to please you.

⭐️ desperate dog: despite yeosang being the more submissive one in your relationship, he fucked you like he’d never get the chance to again. he was rough, sloppy, he was so desperate to cum inside of you.. or on you, he didn’t care. he just wanted to feel your walls squeezing around his aching cock as he rammed himself into you, tapping your sweet spot with his leaking tip.

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: some videos i found were WILDINNN like somebody call the coochie police…? but overall this was fun to write for! if you guys are interested in more stuff like this i wouldn’t mind doing more in the future! :3

taglist: @scarfac3 @h4untedgrl @rvereri @jjongibears @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @joonezra @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @nopension @bbdeongi @sojuxxi @bbykaixx @felixleftchickennugget

[diushek]

I haven't been able to get this out of my head for weeks, so- the Shen Yuan that transmigrates here.

A Shen Yuan who in his mortal life was a veterinarian just to do something with his life and was good at it, and now, well, he has knowledge that doesn't go away no matter what NPC he transmigrated to. He continues to work and earns a good reputation (of course modern veterinary knowledge is much better than xianxia, even if it is harder to get some medicines). It also involves a lot of trial and error being a creature and beast vet, the usual for the PIDW anti fan that is Shen Yuan.

Then one day an urgent letter arrives from the Emperor: he needs his services.

Shen Yuan is expecting anything - a wild, mythical beast? Some creature he needs to de-poison? Then, he arrives, and a worried emperor tells him that his beloved Lady Chengzi has been very ill, with no appetite and losing a lot of hair.

... Shen Yuan is suddenly faced with the fact of the HUGE number of cats that inhabit the palace. Of all colors, all species, as if a crazy dude with lots stacks of fish in Minecraft had collected all the cats in a village.

But, that's okay. At least there are no harem dramas if those cute little kittens replace the Emperor's conquests. And a quick inspection tells him that Lady Chengzi has a bit of stomach irritation, which should be purged. She is probably stressed!! Lady Chengzi needs to change her food, more brushing so she doesn't swallow hair when washing, and perhaps try to get her to spend less time with the other more playful or noisy cats to lower her stress levels.

Following the instructions to the letter, Lady Chengzi recovers! And now Shen Yuan is asked to check on each of Lord Luo's cats, and then stays for tea. And Luo Binghe not only uses to check the health of his spoiled, beloved and beautiful cats, but also to see the nice vet who does his job best. Luo Binghe is definitely planning to marry him, he is an excellent match and extremely capable of taking care of his kittens and loving them as they deserve. He even remembers all their names and treats them according to their personalities!!

Yes, Luo Binghe has found his perfect future empress in him. He just must learn how to court and conquer him in a way that the clueless vet CAN understand - since apparently questions like if he wants to staying for dinner or staying forever are still very subtle.

happy bingge for gibsonrae1's donation to svsssaction! instead of amassing a harem, bingge becomes a cat dad bc happy cats make happy people! (even though the event is no longer accepting donations, perhaps consider donating to fundraisers vetted by gaza funds / gaza esims as supplies are very low!)

[acphengene]

Golden Hour

₊ ⁺ pairing: Jay x reader

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate au, angst, slight miscommunication and teeth rotting fluff that’ll make your heart hurt because you’ve never been loved like this

₊ ⁺ wordcount: 3.9k

₊ ⁺ note: ugh i love these two so much as always let me know if you wanna be added to thr taglist

₊ ⁺ Jake ₊ ⁺ Jungwon ₊ ⁺ Jay ₊ ⁺ Sunoo ₊ ⁺ Heeseung ₊ ⁺ Niki ₊ ⁺ Sunghoon ₊ ⁺

When Jay discovered his mark, he didn’t even realize what it was at first. But by the stroke of midnight on his 13th birthday, his dream changed.

Instead of battling Pokémon’s he was suddenly in school. He had groaned and tried to go back, there was no way in hell he’d be staying in this class. He however quickly realized that he was indeed stuck here.

When he had looked around he noticed that the classroom wasn’t his, nor was his friends anywhere to be found and even the teacher was one he didn’t know. No one even acknowledged his existence, it was as if he was invisible. But most importantly of all, no one even spoke korean.

In his bones he knew what this meant, and the girl he was currently sitting right behind could only be one person. You.

He followed you throughout your day, learned your name, your likes and dislikes in the cafeteria, the name of your friends and teachers, and he clung to every bit of information.

And when he woke up, it was as if the most important parts had slipped his mind, and that unfortunately included both your face and your name.

He had with one of his pillows trying to force the information out by slamming it against his head. But after a conversation with his father, he was told that that was just how the mark worked. It couldn’t and shouldn't be that easy to find one’s other half.

The next couple of days he could’ve sworn someone was watching him, but whenever he looked over his shoulder, no one was there. He did however feel a presence there.

It took him a couple of days, or nights he supposed, of you to continuously looking over your own shoulder. Looking at him, but not really, until he realized that that presence was you, following him around while you slept.

He was happier than ever, and he swore that he would do all he could to be the best version of himself. He did his best to be a good friend, to listen and be kind to those around him. He started joining his parents in the kitchen, just as he had done when he was a child, wanting to be able to take care of you one day, by cooking you food.

It didn’t take more than a few weeks until the emotional maturity and overall kindness was second nature to the teenage boy, and you were so proud of him being yours.

Jay had always enjoyed dancing, and now he had an audience, and knowing you were watching along made him wanna be even better. He danced and he sang, and in the end that took him all the way to BigHit, a company you could never remember the name of when you woke up.

His overall passion inspired you, and even though you didn’t really have the voice for it, music had always been dear to you, so it seemed like the obvious thing to follow in that direction when it became your time to pick schools. Hopefully the love for music would bring the two of you together in the end.

One afternoon on your way home from your classes you had fallen asleep on the train, and as you slipped into the dreams that was his world, he never showed. All that was there was a mist of grey all around you.

You were in complete denial, and refused to accept that he was gone, but after a few minutes the constant flow of no’s you muttered to yourself became sobs and in the end you were nothing more than a ball on the ground as you screamed into the grey abyss.

Was this how it felt? To lose your soulmate before the bond was really sealed? An empty ever stretching room of nothingness?

When your breathing stilled and you finally removed your hands from your mouth, you heard an almost muffled sound coming from somewhere within the mist.

He had just like you panicked when everything around him had slowly disappeared, when he was no longer next to you. The train cart had become what to him almost looked like grey clouds.

Instead of panicking he tried easing his mind, his breath was faster, and all he heard was his heartbeat, but he knew he needed to calm for him to be in any kind of position to figure out what had happened.

A small voice inside his head told him to run, to hurry, to yell out for you, and he had nothing to lose so he listened.

No more than a few minutes later he heard you scream and he had thought he already ran as fast as humanly possible, he was wrong.

He called out for you, called your name because as long as he slept he could remember it.

In the distance he saw a figure and he knew in his heart it was you. “Darling!” He yelled out, breathless and tired, but it didn’t matter, you needed him, you thought he was gone.

“Jay?” You whispered in shock as he was finally close enough for you to see through your teary eyes.

He flew the last few steps and dropped to his knees without really stopping, and therefore crashed right into you. And for the first time, he was able to hold you.

His arms snaked around you, pulled you as close to him as humanly possible, all while he kept repeating two words “I’m here”

The two of you had cried together, finally able to touch and hold one another and to ask and answer questions. It didn’t matter to the two of you that you’d forget the most important parts, because he could finally take a walk with you through the grey clouds. He couldn’t care less about the lack of view, because to him you were the most beautiful view he had ever laid his eyes on.

His arm was snaked around the small of your back, always pulling you back to him in a polite but somehow possessive nature, and it made your heart flutter.

He was almost gone as quickly as he had arrived, and as you woke up in the train cart, you still felt him right there by your sides and your heart had never been fuller.

After having finally held you, Jay made it a part of his routine to nap whenever he could. It didn’t matter where he was, if it was possible he was asleep in seconds.

The two of you had started to talk out loud whenever you were alone, you both knew that the only person who really mattered was right there listening.

And every now and then you were lucky and fell asleep at the same time, and those minutes and sometimes hours were the most presious to you both.

When Jay joined I-land your interactions changed, you knew he was doing something different than usual, the background had changed from his usual training room, and instead of him training with the same few people, others had now joined.

You could feel how stressed he was, how afraid, and you hoped your presence helped him just a little.

You did your absolute best to scour the internet for whatever this place was, and then one day at twitter you stumbled upon it.

Kpop was nothing new to you, you had a few friends in your circle that were ARMY’s and when BTS joined for an episode on I-land, clips of those oh so familiar backgrounds were everywhere on your feed. And that’s when you found him.

You started the first episode and when he popped up on screen it was as if every memory you had forgotten whenever you woke came rushing back. It was almost as if you had opened a door in your mind that held the rest of information you knew about him.

He had told you about him being a trainee, of him wanting to debut, how he hoped it would lead you to him one way or another. He had sung to you in the grey clouds, and you had complimented him every time, you were in fact his biggest cheerleader and number one fan.

You cheered him on, voted for him and did your absolute best to make sure he succeeded with his dream.

That didn’t however stop you from having fun once in a while. You and your best friend had been wheezing when your presence was noticed not only by him but by the remaining boys, and you were suddenly not just his soulmate, but also the ghost of I-land.

After Jay debuted his whole world was turned on it’s head and he was from one day to another no longer just Jay, but Jay of Enhypen.

As proud as you were it also stung. You saw and heard how every woman around him talked about him, how people much more beautiful and successful than you all wished for him to be theirs.

He felt how you had distanced yourself, and he begged on his hands and knees that you would open up, but you never did.

There was a constant fear that he would find your jealousy and possessiveness of him off putting. But what you feared the most was that he would rather have you as a platonic friend instead of a romantic partner in his life.

You hated the feelings, hated that it all got to you. But how could it not? There was no guarantee with soulmates, you could choose to work on a relationship, but it wasn’t a given that it lasted. Some would turn out to be better friends with one another than they ever were partners.

Despite him showing you affection, despite him paying attention you couldn’t shut down those thoughts, they were all consuming.

What you didn’t know was that he too hated seeing how people around you reacted to your beauty and overall presence.

He knew you didn’t notice, you were just walking through the world blind to those who gawked after you on the street. Blind to the boys in the back of your classes as they fought one another to be the one to ask you as their date for a school dance.

There was no way in hell you would say yes if they asked, he had thought to himself.

So when one of them finally did muster up the courage, he smugly watched as you stumbled for the right words to let him down easy. Or so he thought.

You had looked over your shoulder and sighed, as you finally had said that one word: yes.

When Jay woke up he was fuming, and it was clear to everyone who lived with him that something had gone terribly wrong that night.

“Soooo…” Niki said as he took a sip of water in the kitchen, all while Jay was throwing around pots and pans, making enough noise to wake the entire block.

“Don’t poke the bear you idiot!” Sunghoon said before hiding behind a chair dramatically.

“What happened?” Sunoo asked as he gently rubbed his friends back in a soothing manner.

Jay had gone still at the motion, and they all watched him as his shoulders started to move. He was crying.

It lead to a chain reaction as they all formed a protective circle around him, a safe space for him to express his emotions.

“She’s going on a fucking date” he spat out the last word as if it had been poisonous.

“Wow, wow, wow… a date?” Heeseung said as he looked to the others for any kind of explanation. But they were all a mirrored image of his own surprise.

Jay took a deep breath. “Yeah, this low life of a so called ‘man’ asked her to a dance, and she said yes” he ran his hands through his hair a few times as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Dude that’s messed up” Jake said as he plopped down on a chair. Jay nodded in response.

“You have to talk to her” Jungwon said in that stern leader voice.

Jay smiled a sinister smile. “I honestly don’t even wanna see her”

Jungwon shrugged. “I don’t care, you’re not letting this misunderstanding ruin what the two of you have build”

“Who says it’s even a misunderstanding?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the kitchen counter.

“Uhhhh mom and dad are fighting” Niki said in an unserious and teasing tone. He was instantly shut up by the look his two hyungs sent his way. He raised his hands in surrender, earning a laugh from Sunghoon.

“The two of you have known each other for close to ten years, you know each other better than anyone. And from what you’ve told us about her, she is not one who hurts people for sport” Jungwon had too crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“He’s right Jay, you two are lucky you can even communicate, the rest of us have no idea who’s waiting for us, what they’re doing, if they’ve dated people or not. When it comes down to it, none of us have any claim on them” Heeseung echoed.

The rest of the boys both nodded and sighed at the oldest words. It was a harsh truth, one that hurt them all.

“Talk to her, stay up or take a nap or whatever it is that you do” Jake said with a somewhat reassuring smile.

Jay rolled his eyes. “Fine” he said before he skammer the door to his room.

He had stayed up all night until he felt you were finally there. He had been so tired he had fallen asleep within seconds.

“What the hell was that?!” He yelled as soon as you were in front of him.

You had stumbled back in shock. “W-what?” You asked with surprise over his anger.

“Why the hell did you agree to go out with that douche?”

He watched as you rolled your eyes in annoyance, and he had never been more annoyed, disappointed or mad at you.

“How are you surprised? We’re nothing to each other Jay! We’re basically stalkers appointed by the universe itself, we’re nowhere near one another for fuck sake!” You yelled at him, up until now you had never done that.

“I don’t understand any of this… how could…” he ran his hand over his face as he felt how his voice was close to breaking. He was heartbroken, and it was your fault.

“I know who you are okay, I’ve known since I-land. I follow you everywhere, I see the people who thirst over you, I see the young women who would die to be in my place, and honestly? I’m pretty sure you’d much rather be with one of them than with me…”

He saw your tears stream down your face as you admitted everything to him. He didn’t know you knew, he had seen no indicators whenever he was with you. But what he failed to understand was how you would think so little of yourself.

His hand grabbed yours and he pulled you into his chest. His other laid on your cheek as he forced your eyes to meet his.

“Listen to me carefully when I tell you this darling. I want no one, but you. Every moment I’m not here with you, a part of my soul, my heart, is missing. Don’t ever think that you’re not good enough, not beautiful enough. There is no one but you. I scan every crowd, every concert, every fanmeet for your face. It’s you or no one else”

You stared at him as the tears fell, he had managed to wipe away every insecurity in a matter of seconds.

He sent you a shy smile. “I love you darling, you and you alone . And trust me when I say I will continue to love you until the day I die”

You had pulled him into an embrace. “I love you too” you had whispered.

He still smiled when he woke up. You loved him, and he loved you.

“So, I’m taking everything went well?” Sunoo said as he stood in the door.

Jay sat up in the bed with a grin. “Yeah it did”

“Good” Sunoo said before he opened the door wide and his room was suddenly flooded with his brothers.

“She loves me” he said and was instantly knocked over as they all screamed and tackled him into the mattress.

“Of course she does” Jungwon said as he ruffled his hair.

“Thank you Won” he said as he pulled the younger one in for a hug.

“Any time”

“I’m coming” you said as your head was in his lap. You felt him freeze beneath you.

It had been almost a year since the two of you had said those three little words to one another, and hearing about both Jake and Jungwon finding their other half’s had been the last push you had needed to buy the plane ticket without a return date.

“Don’t lie to me” he whispered.

“I’m not, I’m currently on my way” you said with a small smile as your hand came into contact with his cheek.

“How am I going to find you?” Jay said as he leaned into your touch.

“I don’t know… I can’t tell you where to be, or even where I’ll be but don’t stay too much in the dorm or at work okay? Go out and search for me”

“Darling as I’ve said, I always search for you”

You smiled, you knew he was. Instead of telling him you had considered surprising him, and had he been any other man that might’ve been possible.

“I can’t wait” you said.

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Me too”

Jay did exactly as he had promised, he walked around the city, ate every meal outside the comforts of his home. He even attended some of their own lucky draws just to see if you were there.

As the days went by he became more and more desperate. It helped that you were now on the same sleeping schedule, the two of you had never spent this much time together. But he wanted you with him.

He sat by the Han river on a bench, as he tried to calm himself. Usually bodies of water had that effect on him, but it seemed that that wasn’t the case today.

He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. He closed his eyes as he let the sun warm his face. It was getting late, and soon it would be pitch black, but the golden hour was so beautiful from here.

In the corner of his eye he saw someone sit on the other end of the bench. Whoever they were, they too seemed smitten with the view and the golden colors.

“It’s beautiful” you said as you looked at him.

Jay gave you a small nod and polite smile in return, never taking the time to actually look your way. You laughed. “My love, look at me” you said and the sound of that laugh, of that voice finally made something click inside of his very soul.

He whipped his head your way so fast that he fell from the bench and onto the ground. You laughed, unable to figure out how to process all of these emotions.

“You… you’re here” he said in disbelief. Instead of pulling him up you sat down on the ground next to him.

His breaths were quick and shallow, his eyes were big in chok and despite the warm colors of the sun it almost looked like he had gone completely pale.

“Is this a dream?” He asked between breaths, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear your answer by the frantic beating of his own heart.

He saw you smile at him, that wonderful wonderful smile. He took you in, all of you, he knew every little part of your face, of your hands of your body. But up until this exact second it was as if he couldn’t remember, as if the precise details had been lost in his memory. But now everything came back to him.

You reached out with your hand and he hesitantly took it, almost as if he was afraid that you would disappear if he made any sudden moves.

“You’re actually here?” He asked, and you nodded in response.

“Yeah. I’m actually here”

“Oh darling” he said as he pulled you as close to him as he physically could. The interaction reminded him of that first time he had had you in his arms. When the two of you had finally met in those grey clouds that were your mind. But this time you were actually here.

He could smell your shampoo and that sweet scent of vanilla from your perfume, he felt the heat from your hands where there usually were none, and the fast beating of your heart that matched his own so beautifully.

“I love you” three words he kept repeating, three words you repeated back to him over and over again.

He had both of his hands in your hair pulling you away from him to really look at you. “Gosh you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How did I get this lucky?”

“Just kiss me already you fool” you said with a flicker of your eye. God you would be the death of him.

He closed the distance between the two of you, and finally his lips met yours. He was gentle but you could feel the desperation, the need to claim you right then and there.

He groaned into your mouth as his hands snaked around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Your hands flew up into his hair as you combed through the soft locks, earning small whimpers from him.

You smiled at his reaction. Smiled into the kiss and felt how he did the same. “You’re never leaving my side ever again” he said before losing himself in you once more.

“Never” you echoed.

He rested his forehead against yours with closed eyes and you saw how a tear slid down his cheek. You made a little hum, and he looked at you with such love you thought you’d be able to write love songs about this, about him for the rest of your life.

You started to stand but he pulled you back to him. “Where do you think you’re going?” He said in a teasing tone.

“I was thinking now might be a good time to go home.”

Home, home with you. You did not have to tell him twice. The two of you stood and he pulled you close to him, a hand resting on the small of your back as you walked back to his car.

Everything around you looked as if it had been dipped in gold, even that bond inside your chest seemed to be the color that the sun painted the world in. It was singing, humming a tune more beautiful than anything you had ever heard, with exception of your soulmate's voice of course.

Your walk finally had a view, and you had never been happier than in this moment. But you knew there was much more happiness to come as the two of you embarked on this journey that would be the rest of your lives.

And when you fell asleep in each other's arms, only to meet each other in your dreams once more, the grey clouds had been substituted for golden ones. Just as they had been when you had met.

Taglist: @why4anne @juicygirl4life @azzy02 @bluxjun @why-did-i-just-do-this @elairah @ramyeonzwithspam @floating-moon-dust @skyearby @acourtofmoonlightandstars

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He teaches you the language of his work - Part 2

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You were still sprawled on the bed, tangled in sheets, when Simon’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached over, grabbed it, and sighed as he read the message.

“Duty calls?” you asked, voice husky with sleep.

“Not yet,” Simon said. “Soap being a nuisance. Wants to know if I’ve taught you enough to lead a mission.”

You snorted. “Tell him I’m ready to take his spot.”

Simon chuckled, his body vibrating slightly against yours. “Careful. He’d put you through boot camp just to prove a point.”

You sat up slowly, feeling the ache from the night’s lessons. Simon’s gaze followed you, dark and appreciative. He reached for his shirt, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m not done learning,” you teased. “What’s next on the curriculum?”

Simon leaned back, eyes narrowing playfully. “You sure? My courses are intense.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He shifted suddenly, pinning you back against the pillows with a low growl. “You handled last night just fine.”

Your heart raced as he captured your lips in a deep, claiming kiss. But before things could escalate, his phone buzzed again—louder, more insistent.

“Soap,” Simon muttered darkly, grabbing the phone. This time, his eyes narrowed as he read the message. “Team meeting in an hour.”

“Perfect timing,” you groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Simon gave you a crooked smile. “Don’t think this is over. We’ll finish the lesson later.”

An hour later, you sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping coffee while Simon and the team connected over a video call. Soap, Gaz, and Price filled the screen, each wearing expressions ranging from amused to exasperated.

“Morning, love,” Soap greeted, waggling his eyebrows. “Simon been teachin’ you more ‘bout comms?”

You raised a brow. “Let’s just say I’m a quick study.”

Soap burst out laughing. “Aye, she’s got more guts than you, Ghost.”

“Careful, MacTavish,” Simon warned, though his tone held no heat.

Price cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep things on track. “Enough fooling around. We’ve got updates on the next mission.”

You leaned back as the conversation turned serious. Despite the banter, there was a deep camaraderie among them—a bond forged through battles and shared secrets.

But Simon’s gaze kept drifting to you, his expression softening in a way it never did with anyone else.

When the call finally ended, Simon stood, stretching before making his way over to you. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Breakfast first. Then maybe some more lessons.” You grinned wickedly. “Think you can keep up?”

Simon’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to that familiar rasp. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Lesson two was about to begin.

~~~~~~

The crisp winter air wrapped around you both as you wandered through the snow-draped landscape, leaving behind a trail of footprints. Simon walked with an easy, quiet confidence beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

After a few minutes of silence, you nudged him with your elbow. “So… you taught me a few phrases last night. But I want more. What’s next?”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, a glimmer of amusement there. “You’re really keen on this, huh?”

You nodded eagerly. “Come on. Hit me with something.”

He stopped walking, turning toward you with a smirk. “Alright. Let’s see if you remember what ‘RTB’ means.”

“Return to base.” You crossed your arms, grinning. “Easy.”

“Breach and clear?”

“Entering and securing the area.”

Simon hummed, clearly impressed. “Good girl.”

The praise sent warmth flooding through you. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Simon stepped closer. “Here’s one you’ll hear a lot: ‘Copy that.’”

“Copy that?” You tilted your head. “So it’s… acknowledgment, right? Like saying, ‘Got it’?”

“Exactly.” Simon’s eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Let’s practice. Say I give you an order. What’s your response?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Copy that.”

“Good. Now let’s make it more interesting.” Simon took a step back, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Alright, soldier. Your next mission—build me a snow fort. Make it tall, sturdy, and ready for battle.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Copy that.”

With renewed determination, you crouched down and began gathering snow. Simon leaned against a tree, watching with that infuriating smirk that always sent your heart racing.

As you worked, Simon’s deep voice broke the quiet. “One more phrase for you. ‘Hold your position.’”

“Means don’t move,” you answered without looking up.

“Exactly. And it also means…” He suddenly lunged, grabbing a handful of snow. “Stay right there while I do this.”

You barely had time to react before the snowball hit you square in the shoulder.

“Simon!” you shrieked, wiping snow from your coat.

He chuckled, another snowball already in his hand. “What’s the matter? Didn’t hear the order?”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

With a quick scoop of snow, you launched your own attack. The next few minutes were pure chaos—snow flying, laughter ringing through the trees. You managed to land a hit on Simon’s chest, but he retaliated by tackling you gently into a snowbank.

Pinned beneath him, your laughter faded as the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His weight pressed into you—not crushing, but grounding. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours.

“You’re learning fast,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing yours. “Roger that.”

The kiss was slow and deep, snowflakes melting against your skin.

“Think we can call that a successful mission?” you asked breathlessly.

Simon grinned. “I’d say it’s just the beginning.”

[heeluvv]

rockstar!jay who fucks you senseless in the dressing room/limo after a show all sweaty and in heat from the adrenaline 🥰🧸

okayyy wait bc i love this request, (did it a bit different but still) so here it is!

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝄞

pairing ♪ rockstar! park jongseong x style consultant! reader

genre ♪ smut

warnings ♪ p in v, unprotected sex, etc.

natty's notes ♪ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

working at a high-end boutique in the heart of the city, you’ve seen your fair share of celebrities. actors, models, influencers—people who walk in draped in designer labels, their egos just as expensive as the clothes they buy. you’re used to the way they scan the store, looking for exclusivity, for something rare, something to set them apart.

you’ve learned to stay detached, polite but distant. no one ever stays long enough to remember your name anyway.

but when he walks in, something shifts.

jay fucking park.

rockstar, guitarist, frontman of the most infamous band of the decade. the kind of man whose presence changes the energy of a room the second he steps inside. and now, he’s standing just a few feet away from you.

black boots heavy against the marble floor. silver rings glinting under the soft boutique lighting. a fitted leather jacket hugging his frame, worn and broken in, like it’s been through the kind of nights people write songs about. his dark, tousled hair falls just over his sharp eyes, and he pushes it back with a hand that’s littered with silver and ink.

his gaze lands on you.

there’s a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, curiosity. he takes you in, slow and deliberate, the weight of his attention pinning you in place.

"hello, welcome. what can i do for you?" you ask politely, keeping your tone professional despite the man standing in front of you.

jay fucking park.

his presence is overwhelming, even in the soft, elegant lighting of the boutique. the air around him seems heavier, charged with the kind of energy only someone like him carries—someone untouchable, yet standing right here, waiting for you to assist him like he’s just another client.

he doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he watches you, his gaze sharp, assessing, lingering a beat too long. and then, the corner of his lips tugs upward into the faintest smirk.

"i'm looking for something to wear tonight," he says, his voice smooth, dipped in amusement. "something that’ll turn heads. more than i already do."

cocky. effortless. the kind of arrogance that should be off-putting, but coming from him, it feels natural—like he’s earned the right to say it. because he has.

still, you school your expression, keeping your reaction buried deep.

"of course," you say evenly. "we have a few selections i think you’d like."

without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel, leading him through the boutique, toward a more secluded section—where the real exclusives are kept.

but you feel it.

his eyes.

scanning you, slow and unashamed, dragging over the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, lingering just a little too long lower than they should. it should make you uncomfortable, but instead, a quiet thrill hums beneath your skin.

you ignore it.

the racks ahead are lined with clothes that scream power—pieces meant for those who belong under flashing lights, those who are the moment. if you were a star, this is what you’d go for. something bold, something that demands attention.

but you’re not.

you’re here, stuck assisting the people who are everything you want to be.

jay steps beside you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of leather and something richer, something undeniably him.

"these," you say, motioning toward the selection. "they’d suit you."

he doesn’t look at the clothes.

he looks at you.

and you’re not sure whether it’s the boutique lighting or something else entirely, but his gaze feels hotter now, heavier. like he’s considering something far beyond fabric and fit.

“yeah?” his voice is lower now, threaded with something unreadable.

you swallow, steadying yourself.

“yeah.”

jay makes his selection quickly, barely sparing a glance at the price tags as he pulls items from the racks—pieces that match the effortless kind of allure he carries. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess. it’s like he already knows what will look good on him, and really, why wouldn’t he?

one of his assistants steps forward, arms already filled with the chosen clothes. jay doesn’t even acknowledge them, his focus trained on you instead. when he turns to face you, that smirk is still there, lazy and knowing, like he’s enjoying the way you try—and fail—to act unaffected.

“where’s your dressing room, princess?”

the pet name rolls off his tongue too easily, too smooth. it shouldn’t sound as good as it does. shouldn’t make your stomach tighten the way it does.

but it does.

you hate that you react, that you feel the way you do. your breath catches, and heat licks up your spine as you press your thighs together, forcing yourself to appear unaffected.

still, the words don’t come as quickly as you want them to.

“towards the left…” you finally manage, voice quieter than intended.

jay hums, his amusement only growing. he takes a step closer, and the air between you shifts—electric, heavier.

“could you lead the way again?”

it’s not really a question.

your throat tightens, but you don’t respond. you just turn on your heel and start walking, pulse hammering as you make your way down the dimly lit hallway leading to the private dressing rooms. you can hear him following, his footsteps slow, deliberate, stretching the tension between you even further.

reaching one of the spacious, high-end fitting rooms, you push the door open, stepping aside to let him in. the space is sleek, lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and a plush bench in the center.

jay nods toward his assistant. “leave them inside.”

the assistant quickly does as told, placing the clothes neatly on the padded seat. but when they step back, jay doesn’t follow them. he stays put. right next to you.

then, just as casually as he commands everything else, he adds, “wait by the entrance.”

his assistant hesitates, just for a second, like they, too, are confused. but they don’t question him. they nod and disappear down the hallway, leaving just the two of you in the doorway of the private fitting room.

your brows furrow slightly, but you don’t say anything.

you should question it.

but you don’t.

because his gaze is already back on you—intent, unreadable. like he’s considering something.

and for some reason, you don’t move.

he doesn’t wait. not a second longer.

before you can process it, before you can take a steadying breath, jay's hands are on you—firm, calculated—as he pushes you inside the dressing room. the door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both inside, and suddenly, the air feels hotter, heavier.

your back barely meets the mirror wall before his lips crash against yours.

it steals the breath from your lungs, leaves you dizzy, caught in the force of him—of his heat, his urgency, the way he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess. your gasp barely makes it past your lips before you respond in kind, hands reaching, gripping onto the back of his neck, threading into his dark hair as you pull him closer.

he takes it as an invitation—like he was waiting for it.

his hands find your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver before he lifts you, like you weigh nothing, pressing you against the cool mirror behind you. the contrast of heat and cold sends a shock down your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you now—lips swollen, breath unsteady, eyes dark with something unreadable.

his smirk is still there, lazy and amused, like he’s won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing.

“thought acting all unaffected wouldn’t be too obvious, princess?” he taunts, his voice low, teasing, sending a sharp thrill down your spine.

you open your mouth—maybe to deny it, maybe to tell him where he can shove that cocky smirk—but then he shakes his head, clicking his tongue, his breath warm against your lips.

“i see right through you,” he murmurs, a soft chuckle leaving him before his lips crash back onto yours.

this kiss is rougher, deeper—like he’s trying to pull something from you, something you weren’t ready to admit. his hands move, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your suit uniform, grazing against the fabric in a way that has heat coiling low in your stomach.

you can barely think.

because this is happening.

you are kissing jay fucking park.

in a dressing room.

and god, you don’t want it to stop.

he doesn’t waste a second.

your suit jacket is stripped off in a matter of moments, the expensive fabric crumpling onto the floor, forgotten. his hands move with practiced ease, working at the buttons of your crisp white shirt, undoing them one by one in a frenzy. his breathing is heavier now, uneven, as he pushes the fabric aside, revealing the delicate lace of your white bra.

jay stills for a moment, his gaze darkening as he takes in the sight.

he groans lowly, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “fuck…”

his fingers brush over the lace, featherlight, almost reverent. the material cups your breasts perfectly, hugging your skin in a way that makes it look like it was meant to slip off. the sight of you like this—flushed, breathless, pinned against the mirror—has something primal flickering behind his eyes.

“you’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, voice rough, strained with something dangerously close to desperation.

before you can respond, his lips are on you again, but this time, they travel lower, down the curve of your jaw, trailing the length of your throat. his kisses are slow, deliberate, each one pressed into your skin like he’s leaving his mark—like he wants to leave his mark.

his teeth graze the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and when he bites down, just enough to make you feel it, a soft gasp escapes your lips.

his smirk returns against your skin.

“like that, princess?” he taunts, voice a low whisper against your pulse.

you don’t even try to hide the way your body responds.

“fuck, jay…” you grunt, your head tilting back, pressing against the cool surface of the mirror, granting him more access.

he takes full advantage of it, his lips moving lower, mouth open, sucking at the delicate skin of your neck, his tongue swiping over the bruises he leaves behind.

heat pools in your stomach, burning, unrelenting.

he’s everywhere—all over you, consuming every breath, every thought—until there’s nothing else but him.

your breath hitches as his hungry mouth finds your breast, lips enveloping the soft flesh before pulling back to let his teeth graze and nip, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through you. moans spill from your lips, filling the room with a symphony of desire, but there's no need for silence; the world outside has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this secret, secluded haven.

his knee presses insistently between your thighs as he tugs at your pants, peeling them away along with your panties, baring you completely. he mirrors your state, kicking off his own pants, and your eyes are drawn to his thick, hard length. a whimper escapes your lips, a flicker of doubt crossing your mind. will it fit? he sees your hesitation, eyes dark with desire and reassurance. "i'll make it fit, baby.." he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he positions himself at your entrance, pushing in with a groan. the feeling of you, tight and hot, gripping him like a vice, sends waves of pleasure crashing over him. you cry out, his name a litany on your lips as he stretches you, fills you completely, your bodies joined in a dance as old as time.

Your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as his powerful hands grip underneath your thighs, driving his rock-hard cock into you with a desperate, primal rhythm. "Fuck, baby… you're so fucking tight…" he groans, his breath hot on the nape of your neck, your head thrown back against the cool mirror. You're in heaven, barely able to believe the intensity of the moment, the sheer ecstasy of his body against yours.

he pistons into you, each thrust more urgent than the last, shifting positions to plunge deeper, to feel more of you. suddenly, he flips you around, your breasts and cheeks pressed firmly against the mirror, its cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of your bodies. he enters you from behind, his cock drilling into you with relentless passion. "look how fucking good you look, baby… taking my dick so well, huh?" he groans, sweat beading on his forehead, his lips constantly caught between his teeth in a futile attempt to suppress louder moans. he fails miserably, unable to contain his pleasure as you clench around him, your body milking his with each thrust. the room fills with the raw, carnal sounds of your passion, a symphony of desire and release.

your breath hitches as you cry out, "jay, fuck! i'm going to cum!" your legs quiver beneath him, no longer pressed against the fogged-up mirror, but now sprawled on the velvet bench in the dressing room's heart. your back arches like a bow against him as you lay on your stomach, his hand firmly gripping your neck, the other clutching your waist, pulling you back to meet his relentless thrusts. "gonna cum for me, princess?" he growls, his voice a ragged whisper, his length throbbing inside you as he nears his own release.

"fuck, fuck, jay!" you gasp, your eyes rolling back, your body convulsing as he increases his pace, his hips slapping against you. your inner muscles clench around him, a tight, pulsating grip that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"fuck yeah, baby…" he groans, his voice rough and primal, his head thrown back, tendons straining in his neck. he can feel you, your climax imminent, your body tensing around him. you shatter with a cry, your release drenching him, your body shaking beneath him. he plunges deep, deeper than before, filling you completely as he finds his own release, his hot climax spilling into you, overflowing. maybe, just maybe, your job wasn't so bad after all.

natty's notes ♪ i hope you enjoyed!