#if you used this site like you were supposed to it would be at least Slightly less of an issue because you'd still have it all

[cozylittleartblog]

also in the face of people deleting their blogs, that's another reason why you guys are supposed to reblog stuff. if somebody deletes a post, your liked version will disappear, but the reblogs remain. i'm insane about preservation and archival, every single piece of art i have ever enjoyed is reblogged on my 450k+ posts main account so if the artists leave I still have their work. i even tag things (though just with the main fandom tag) so I have years and years worth of fanworks saved that the terrible general site search will never show you.

please reblog art. not just to support the artists who make it and share their efforts, but also so you have your own copy of their works saved for yourself, and the future users of this site.

[wandanatsgf]

Inappropriate Feelings

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: you have feelings for two married women. When it gets in the way of your work they confront you

Warning this contains: praise kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, bondage, face riding, strap usage, fingering, orgasm control, name calling (just one time)

Part 2

You shouldn’t feel this way about one married woman, let alone two. You know it’s wrong. The way you feel when their hands ghost over yours. When they brush past you in the hallway or when they talk to you.

You get butterflies in your stomach. Your breathing gets short and it gets hard to think. Being around them is hard, your feelings always get in the way. They cloud your judgement until all you can think about is them kissing you, loving you, touching you.

Your feelings didn’t get in the way of your job, at least it didn’t until a few weeks ago.

You were on a mission with the two women, confined in the small space of the quinjet for hours. You struggled to remain calm around them. Your senses were in overdrive as they walked around the jet, talked to you. If you were naive you would even think they were flirting with you. But they’re married and you know better.

You struggle with your feelings, something you normally never do on a mission, until you finally landed at the job site. There you try to stuff your feelings down, trying to compartmentalize in order to complete the mission.

The three of you walked out of the hanger doors and run into the Hydra base you are meant to infiltrate.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple mission. But nothing is ever easy when you’re an avenger.

You got ambushed, it was all a set up. And because you got distracted by how good Natasha looked while she was fighting a bad guy, you got shot.

It was just a bullet to the leg. Everyone gets shot at some point in your line of work. So to you, it was no big deal. But to Wanda and Natasha it was everything.

You had never seen them so upset and pissed off. You’re not sure if they were pissed with you or with the agent who shot you. You didn’t ask, too scared of the answer.

They spent the next couple of weeks taking care of you. Helping you get around the tower, h getting you anything you need, and eventually helping you with physical therapy.

You appreciated their help but all it did was remind you how they’re not yours. No matter how good being helped and babied by them feels, it’s not going to last.

So when you’re better, you push them away. Which is what you’re doing now. It's been weeks since you were healed and you're now able to do things on your own. The only thing left from the injury is a scar that is here to stay.

It's also been two weeks since you have seen them, touched them, interacted with them. But it's for the best this way, at least until you can get your feelings for them under control.

You're about to go train when Natasha puts herself in your path. You move to turn around, but she reaches out a hand to stop you.

“Come on. We need to talk,” Natasha says. Her tone is serious, her words short and to the point. Her words leave no room for arguments so you follow behind her as she walks the two of you to her room and shuts the door.

Wanda is already in there, sitting on the bed.

"You know what I think I'm needed elsewhere," you say, suddenly nervous about what's about to happen.

"No you don't baby," Wanda says. A red glow encases the door before it fades. You try the door and it's locked.

"Wanda," you whine. "Let me out." Your fists bang on the door and you attempt to pull the handle but you have no luck.

"Not until you tell us what's wrong." Concern is written all over her face. You can see it in her eyes. In the way she furrows her eyebrows.

"I can't," is all you say.

"Then I guess we'll be in here for a while." It's Natasha who speaks this time. Her eyes watch you, moving up and down. She's watching you like she's stalking prey, like she's just waiting to attack. And then finally recognition dawns on her face. She says nothing, just looks at Wanda. You think the two are having some sort of telepathic conversation, but you're not really sure.

"If you don't want to tell us we can always guess," Natasha suggests, breaking her eye contact with Wanda to look at you.

Wanda moves in front of you and situates herself so that her front is pressed against your front. You can feel her nipples through her thin t-shirt. You can smell her vanilla perfume and her strawberry shampoo.

You move to back up but Natasha stops you. She stands behind you, one hand on your waist, pinning you in place. You're trapped between the two women. It's like your wet dream come to life, if only they weren't interrogating you about your pesky little feelings for them.

"Now are you going to be a good girl and tell us the problem?" Natasha asks. Her words send a thrill down your spine and a sticky straight to your core.

You nod your head no, too scared that your voice would betray you.

"It's okay baby. We know what the problem is," Wanda says, her tone sickly sweet. Her lips get close to yours. So close that you can feel her breath ghosting over you. If you wanted to you could count the flecks of brown in her eyes.

“We see how you look at us baby,” Natasha says, her lips ghosting over your exposed neck.

"I can hear your dirty little thoughts about us, thoughts you think no one can hear," Wanda whispers. Her words are like a bucket of ice water that has been dumped on you. They're sobering.

"I-um," you stumble out. Even though you're an avenger, you're stumped on what to say. You can't think of a lie that could save your ass right now.

"It's okay baby. You wanna know a secret? We like you too," Wanda says. Once the words leave her mouth her lips capture yours in a heated kiss. You kiss her back, reciprocating her affection.

Natasha, who is still behind you, peppers kisses up your neck. "You have no idea how much we like you detka."

"I think I'm starting to understand," you say against Wanda's lips.

The two woman move you over to their bed and lay you down.

"Is it okay if we tie you up," the red haired woman asks.

"Please," is all you say.

"I told you she'd like it," Wanda quips.

"Mind reader," you say, rolling your eyes.

"What was that baby?" Wanda pins you to the bed with her hand around your throat.

"Nothing mommy I'm sorry."

"There's my good girl. You're catching on quick, huh?" You nod yes and Wanda removes the hand from your throat and steps back to let's Natasha take over.

Natasha reappears in your line of sight with rope in hand, although you never actually noticed her leaving. She makes quick work of tying your hands to the bedpost, leaving you completely at their mercy.

"How's that feel?" Natasha softly asks you.

"Good."

"If it's too much say red and everything stops okay?"

"Okay daddy."

"Good girl." The praise leaves your core aching, but you're sure the two women will fix that soon.

Natasha is on one side of you while Wanda is on the other. The two women are standing over the bed, just admiring you.

"You're so pretty like this, all spread out for us," Wanda says.

"We just need to get these pesky clothes out of the way," Natasha says, looking at Wanda. Wanda nods in understanding because the next thing you know you're naked, bare and exposed before them. Wanda also removes their own clothes, so you can see all of them. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. And based on the looks on their faces they are feeling the same about you.

As if it is a practiced dance Wanda moves to your head while Natasha moves between your legs, sucking and biting your thighs. She's teasing you, ignoring the place you want her most.

While Nat does that Wanda straddles your face, her legs on either side of you, caging you in.

"Come on baby, stick your tongue out. Let mommy ride your face," Wanda encourages. You stick your tongue out and Wanda lowers herself onto your face, grinding back and forth. Her clit bumps into your nose with each thrust, causing her to moan loudly.

"You making mommy feel good baby?" Natasha asks, still pressing teasing kisses to your thighs. You groan in response, which makes Wanda tremble above you.

While Wanda continues to ride your face, Natasha finally stops her teasing. She spreads your legs and positions herself between them.

"Such a cute little wet pussy," Natasha murmurs before she slides a finger up your center, making you gasp.

"Please daddy," you try to say, but it comes out all garbled from Wanda being on your face.

"It's okay baby I'll give it to you." Natasha slides a finger into you, making you moan out. Wanda's movements stutter above you, you can tell she's getting close the longer she rides you.

"Fuck," Wanda moans out. "You look so pretty when I ride you baby." Wanda's movements speed up as she chases her orgasm while you're chasing your own. Natasha's finger pistons inside you and then she adds another. The pleasure intensifies and you can feel the coil in your stomach getting ready to snap.

"Please let me cum," you try to say, although it comes out mumbled. You're thankful that Natasha can understand you.

"Come on baby. Cum on Daddy's fingers." Her words are all it takes for you to let go. Your body spasms and shakes as your release hits you. Your moans vibrate through Wanda's pussy and also send her over the edge. You swallow everything she gives you, licking your lips when she gets off of you. She walks into their closet while Natasha climbs up your body and leaves a gentle kiss on your lips.

"You were such a good girl for us baby," Natasha says. "But we know you can give us more." The glint in her eyes is intoxicating, it makes you want to give her more orgasms until you're completely spent and putty in their arms.

Wanda walks back out with a strap on around her waist. The scarlet colored strap dangling between her legs. It's bigger than anything you've ever taken, and you say so.

"It's okay baby, I'll make it fit." Wanda's words have you getting wet all over again. Wanda positions herself in between your legs, and slowly pushes into you.

"Shh it's okay detka," Natasha says, comforting you. She kisses you softly, distracting you from the burning stretch of the dildo entering you. Natasha slowly pulls back and brings a hand to your clit, rubbing in circles.

Wanda sits there with the strap still for a few minutes, letting you adjust.

"You can move," you finally say.

Wanda fucks up into you. The strap hits places inside of you that you didn't even know exist. It feels amazing, but you're still not quite satisfied.

"Daddy," you moan out. "Wanna please you." You want, no need, to please Natasha. You want her to cum on your face, feel the same kind of pleasure you're experiencing right now.

"You want daddy to sit on your face sweetheart?" Wanda asks, continuing to fuck you.

"Please," you beg.

"Give our little slut what she wants Natalia." Wanda keeps fucking into you. The strap feels amazing inside of you and you can feel your orgasm building.

Natasha lowers herself on to your face, suffocating you with her pussy. If this is how you were to die you would die happy. You stick your tongue out and lap at her pussy, tasting her. She tastes sweet and you can already tell her pussy is a taste you'll be craving for the rest of your life.

"There you go baby," Natasha moans out when you slip her clit into your mouth and suck on it. "Keep on sucking me just like that."

Wanda continues to fuck into you and soon you're close. Your hips are bucking up to meet hers, your moans become more frequent. You're desperate for release.

"You can cum when Nat cums,"" Wanda tells you, invigorating our efforts to make the redhead cum as fast as possible. You suck on her clit harder and soon you have Natasha seeing stars. She smooshes your head between her thighs, her orgasm overtaking her body. She cums in your mouth and you swallow it all.

Once Natasha stops shaking and gets off of you, Wanda gives you permission to cum. Your pussy clenches around her strap and you scream out. The pleasure is too good, it overtakes your body and leaves you spent. Your body turns to jello as Wanda slowly slips out of you.

Wanda takes off the harness and throws it off to the side. The two women collapse beside you, one on either side. Wanda uses her magic to untie you and the ropes disappear. The only sign that they were ever there are the faint rope marks around your wrists, which Wanda notices.

"Give me your wrists." You give Wanda your wrists and she magics some ointment beside her. She opens the jar and rubs the cream on one wrist while Natasha does the other.

"Anywhere else hurt?" Natasha asks.

"No," you say.

"You sure honey?" Wanda's use of the nickname honey has you melting against her.

"mhm I'm sure."

"Good girl," Natasha says, proud of you for speaking up. Her words have the flame in your core reigniting. The praise goes right to your pussy.

"Daddy," you whine, wanting the two of them to use you again. Wanda notices your excitement and puts a stop to it.

"Natalia!" Wanda exclaims. "Stop teasing her. She needs to rest before we use her again."

"But she likes it when I tease her, don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy," you agree.

"Shhh baby your mommy's right. You need to rest so we can have some fun later okay?" Natasha says, like she wasn't just instigating and teasing you.

"Okay," you pout, not truly happy about this decision, but you know you need the rest. Your muscles ache, your body spent in ways it hasn't been in a while.

The two women choose to ignore your pouting, this time.

"Rest baby. Then we'll make you feel good later," Wanda says. You nod in agreement and situate yourself in between the two women. Natasha wraps an arm around you while Wanda tangles her legs with yours. The quiet, calm atmosphere lulls you to sleep. You fall asleep excited for what's to come, knowing round two will await you when you wake up.

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, his | Aaron Hotchner

requested

MASTERLIST

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: You never fail to make Hotch smile, even in hard times. One late night, when reader comes to his office to do some paperwork with him, he cannot help but catch himself staring at you and wondering if Hayley had the right to be jealous of you

cw: hints of jealous reader, mentions of jealous haley, divorce talk, cheating talk, mutual pinning my beloved <33

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

It was 7 in the morning when you entered your dull office with an emphatic unambiguous ugh. You tossed your briefcase and jacket onto the leather couch to your right, closed the door behind you with your heel, walked over to the table and turned on the light. You did a good job rearranging everything last night, but the files you were supposed to audit for the day had already been put on your desk. Though, you needn’t to rush as the team had already gotten a new case when 20 minutes prior you received a call. At least you had already been prepared to come down to your office, all dressed up. The phone call came through just as you were to about to cross your doorstep.

Moaning, you picked up the phone, dialed the number and patiently held for a response. You despised this. After a month, the team had a day off and you weren't expected to have a heavy workload today (also, you could never take a day off when the rest of the team did), so the most noticeably awful thing to do on a day like this for you was to call them back in.

You played with a tangled cord of your telephone when a hoarse voice spoke, "Hotchner” on the other end of the call.

Great, you wondered, was he already awake or did you wake him up. You could name a handful of different better ways of doing so.

"Uh, hi, Hotch." You noticed it was slightly too sweet how you said it. It might have been your way to make the news more appealing, or maybe, his early morning voice made you melt. You could never be certain which is the one.

Before he spoke your name, he cleared his throat and you believed you heard a light peck against his lips and someone’s chuckle.

The butterflies in your stomach died in an instant. Another great thing you had to do this morning.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” you said with a wry smile, rolling your eyes, “but I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”

Silence.

It made you glance at the handset you were holding to your ear.

Oh, how you have ruined his day before it even began.

“I figured. Call the rest of the team. I’ll meet you there in 20.” And with that, he ended the call. You could already detect a sudden shift in his tone, could already see a familiar frown appearing on his face.

──────────────────────

It was late at night when you knocked at Aaron's office door. Most of the agents on the sixth floor of the building were already out. Aaron could hear your heels clicking against the floor, echoing in the space before you even entered the bullpen.

"Hey."

A frown was settled on his face as he sat in a large chair behind his desk, his red tie slightly askew on his white-collar shirt, his rolled-up sleeves revealing his bare forearm. You couldn't help but notice that his hair, too, was more disheveled than normal. You tilted your head. If you had the chance, you would stare at him like that for eternity.

When Hotch regarded you with a fleeting gaze and a quick 'come in' in response before resuming to his paperwork and forms, you entered his office with a gentle exhale.

There was no need for questions or instructions as you silently retrieved the documents from your side of the table once you had sat across him.

That was the schedule you used to follow regularly.

Every time a case ended, both of you had to come together and complete the paperwork. At times, you’d spend extra time working together into the late night until you both were barely able to keep your eyes open, whilst other times it didn't take as long. Even though some might argue that it was not the perfect scenario - staying up late with your boss - those times when you had to be silent and be in close proximity to him were calming and almost sufficient to fuel your bizarre attraction that began the moment you first laid eyes on him. It was constantly shifting, influenced by mood changes from both of you. You were never afraid to express your strong opinion even if it didn’t parallel his, never afraid to speak for yourself, but you were also the one that spent most time with him, knew him better than the rest of the team, even had the most in common. The team referred to you as Hotch’s soft spot (not to his knowing, of course). In spite of being one of the youngest members of the team, if another member messed something up, they’d hide behind you, ask you to talk some sense into Hotch. To him, you could never do wrong. He was always a little bit blind to your faults. And you, obviously, weren’t oblivious to that. Not that you took advantage of it, or to be quite frank never a serious one. You could notice how one look, one ‘Hotch?’, one ‘please?’ could make him easily change his mind no matter who stood on the other end of the topic. You still remember when Penelope first started working with the team, and the first time she saw you two together - you saw a ‘?!?’ above her head. She asked if you were the wife.

And then, on the other side, there was a wife. Hotch was married, and you knew his little family - Haley and their son, so you never thought about breaking that boundary. As such, you were very adept at playing the game of hot and cold when it came to Hotch. Even if he weren’t someone’s husband, there was still a bit of an age gap between the two of you, and let’s not forget Aaron Hotchner’s professionalism. He was your boss after all, and in all your mind, you just firmly believed Aaron would never allow himself such a thing.

While you filled out the forms, you noticed something quite different tonight. Hotch had complete trust in you, he was aware of where your loyalties laid. You'd been on the same team for a few years in a row now, during which he would occasionally sign certain documents prior to you completing them. However, tonight was different. Tonight, he appeared unenthusiastic about returning home early to maximize the limited time his job allowed him to spend with his family.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired, feigning ignorance of his eyebrows raising towards you.

He shook it off, replied with a stock ‘Nothing’.

Neither of you seemed to stop whatever you were writing down.

“We’ve spent way too much time together. If you think I wouldn’t notice,” you eyed him. “You are wrong, boss.”

Aaron’s eyes finally really met yours for the very first time tonight. He leaned back in his seat comfortably, arms resting on armrests. “Are you a profiler now?”

“I might be one,” you mused, leaning back in your seat, crossing your legs as you put your pen aside. “Perhaps I have picked up a few skills working with the best.”

He surveyed you, a smile playing in the corner of his lips.

Aaron Hotchner - the profiler - never misses anything.

“In any case, I believed we had agreed not to profile each other,” he spoke gently.

You expressed gratitude to God for that. Would he, then, realize the extent of a crush you had for him in those little moments and mood changes? Was he just as unaware of that as any other man even though Aaron Hotchner was not just any man? You, in rare cases of boredom, would wonder what he really thought of you. Did he think it was just your personality - being all flirty and smiley, with everyone?

“I’m not profiling you, Hotch.” You reassured him. “It’s just… Would you not ask me if I were fine if you’d noticed?”

“Yes, I would.”

“And you’d want me to tell the truth?”

He nodded slightly in response.

Your eyebrows snapped together. “Then?”

As soon as the thought of Haley came back into his mind, his expression fell serious, his smile faltered.

He couldn't believe that Haley could possibly be jealous of any of his colleagues. After being together for years, he believed she would have had more insight, would known him better than that. For months now, that had not been the case. They practically turned into strangers who occasionally had to share the same bed. Even though he didn't realize it then, after the final confrontation and some calm reflection, everything became clear. Although the very thought of losing Haley was unknown… painful.

That morning when y/n called him, the moment Haley was waking him up in bed with her kisses, he called out your name. They both got carried away in the heat of the moment, not realizing that the call was indeed coming at his work number.

He recalled the way she gazed at him then - disappointed more than anything else - she shook her head and pushed him aside, getting up from the bed and putting on her robe. After the call had ended, he wanted to explain to Haley but what she said to him petrified him.

“It's always work, and it's always her, and you always go running like a dog whenever she calls you!”

He was upset, offended. However, he was fully aware that Haley was determined to find a way to bring their relationship to an end, regardless of his actions, whether positive or negative.

Aaron remembered then the call to the home telephone which he had picked, but was welcomed with silence before that someone hang up on him. And then Haley's mobile rang. He knew. He knew then, in that shared gaze with Haley. But regardless of all that, Aaron wanted one more chance, at least for their son Jack, who needed a united family more than anything else.

“Haley and I are getting divorced.” He spoke, not realising you had been back to signing the documents whilst he was busy in his thoughts.

“What?”

That took you by a surprise. You would have never guessed it. Yes, you shared glances with the rest of the team while working on the last case, noticing how something bothered Hotch, how slightly distracted he was. You could have notice how quiet he was on your way back home in the jet, not engaging in a conversation with anyone, with you. Yes, you all have guessed he had an argument with Haley having to leave for work again when he’d finally had a day off, but divorce… No one believed the two of them would ever divorce.

“I’m so sorry, Hotch.”

“For a while it has been… different. I guess there’s nothing I could do about that now, nothing to change the situation we have gotten into.” He spoke as if though he hadn’t heard you, his dark eyes distant in a dim lighting. “I tried.”

You didn’t want to pry. You needed not to know what happened - their reason, whatever it might have been, was sufficient. You didn't believe it was Haley's fault, nor his fault. You could understand both of them. It was indeed a rather challenging one. Only a handful of individuals could understand the job you have chosen to do, sometimes it made you wonder if you’d ever find anyone that would.

Unless it was someone doing the same job, the chances were relatively small. Reid could give his statistics on this one, you’d remind yourself to ask.

“I know, Hotch.” You reached out instinctively, your hand over his, slightly squeezing. He did not move or flinch, his eyes shifting to where the contact was. The hand under your palm was warm, simultaneously rough and soft. His wedding ring was reverberating a tiny bit of coldness against your skin. “And I know you. I know you would never just quit. You don’t deserve this. And I’m really so so sorry.”

“I’m not ideal. Haley has every right. I’m more gone than present, more a boss than a husband.” He sighed, pondering. “My own marriage’s been in trouble and needed saving, but I wasn’t able to admit it and help myself, help us. I wonder how I still keep this job.”

“Don’t take it too hard on yourself, ok? It’s never just one side, but it does get better. I promise. At least that much I know of. If there’s anything I can do…”

“You are here. Listening.”

You once again felt noticed as his intense yet somehow gentlest of gaze met yours. You loved that about Aaron, the ways he could make you feel in just seconds - you could be all platonically giggly and flirty with him in one, but in the next moment when he would regard you with that look in his eyes, one word, one smile - the world would stop, you could only hear your heart beating, his presence only existing. And it scared you.

It should have been just a banal crush.

You withdrew your hand from his at the thought, clearing your throat to cover a moment that was… profound, finding sudden interest in the documents again. “I can complete this by the end of night, you can-“

“No.” He cut you off, sighing as the documents on his desk filled his sight again. “It’s fine. I don’t have anywhere to be in particular tonight. I have to finish this by morning…”

His brows raised once his eyes met yours again before he added, whispering. “And I could use some company.”

Or preferably, he could use your company.

“Ah, Strauss… The woman knows how to keep her employees in dislike of her.” You stated, averting your gaze from his eyes, taking another file from atop of others. “You should give her some tips.”

A soft chuckle escaped his throat, breaking the silent grimness that spread in the room.

“Since this is gonna be one hell of a night...” You put your hands on the armrests, ready to stand up. It was an attempt to run, reflect, calm down. “Anything you want me to get you?”

“Actually, I’m about to get some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Well, if we must finish all this work…” You nodded, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, we have to.”

“Ok.” He said in a soft-spoken manner, rising to his feet, and then pointed his finger at you in a manner similar to scolding a child. “But don’t doze off on me again. I’ll be right back.”

You put your hands up in defiance.

When he passed next to you, you followed him with your gaze out of the office. His perfume barely reached up your nostrils and you slumped in your seat, eyes closed, your breath shuddering.

That was close.

And about that… It wouldn’t be your first time. The team was amazed by your ability to fall asleep literally anywhere - desk, bench, floor, cinema, waiting rooms - you name it.

The first time Aaron found about this talent of yours was after the case. You went to check out of the hotel with the rest of the team, and while waiting for others in the lobby seated on a bar stool with your arms crossed, you fell asleep. He was quite taken aback, or rather impressed as well as everyone else, to see you dozing off while seated. On your way home, the team occasionally made jokes about it, but what stood out to you the most was that Hotch was also very engaged in them.

“Thank you.” He said once he returned to his office and put your cup of coffee before you.

You locked eyes with him, offering a small smile. “You are always very welcome.”

Taking a break from work, you took a sip. Just how you liked it. How attentive. Not that it was surprising. “And I suppose I should thank you.”

He lifted the cup in his hand to his lips but halted before taking a sip, his tongue gliding over his lips. You stared, hypnotized. “I’m sorry? Thank me for what exactly?”

“Yeah, you know…” Nervous, you offered him a report you’d just finished hoping he didn’t catch that. He reached forward to take it. “For indirectly acknowledging that seeing my name on your phone on a day off is not the most pleasant thing. I suppose I am bad news.”

“It’s a rather heavy subject, you know.” He replied in a professional tone, his eyes glued on the paper.

“Well, we’ve got all night.” You joked, throwing your hands in the air.

His eyes softened upon meeting yours once again. “I didn’t say that, and no, you aren’t.”

You lifted your brow at him. And then, there was that crooked grin on your face, teasing him to admit.

He observed you for a moment. “Sometimes, yes.” He succumbed to your will once again, before signing the report, concealing his own smile from you.

[satellite-evans]

I'll give you the world

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: choosing a present is hard for someone who has already everything in the world.

Word count: 2.2k+

Warnings: fluff, doubt, making out

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Dating Lando was still something you were getting used to. It wasn’t about the fame, the racing, or the cameras—it was about him. The way he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel absentmindedly, lost in thought. The way his laugh bubbled up uncontrollably when he found something truly funny, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the corners. The way he always pulled you closer, fingers tightening around your wrist, whenever he thought you were about to leave, as if to silently say, stay just a little longer.

It was in the quiet moments that you loved him most. The sleepy murmurs in the morning before either of you were fully awake. The way he’d unconsciously reach for you in his sleep, tugging you closer as if you were his anchor. The way he always made sure to send a quick text me when you’re home after a night out, even if he was halfway across the world.

But when his birthday approached, you found yourself at a loss.

What do you buy someone who already has everything?

You ran through the usual ideas: car accessories, watches, sneakers. But nothing felt right. Either it was too extravagant or too impersonal, and the pressure to make it meaningful had you second-guessing everything. He wasn’t the kind of person who cared about material things—sure, he had the best of the best, but the things he truly cherished were the little things, the moments, the memories.

"What do I even do?" you groaned to your best friend over the phone, flopping onto your bed in frustration. "He can buy whatever he wants. How am I supposed to surprise him?"

Your friend hummed in thought. "Maybe think of it differently. What’s something he wouldn’t buy for himself? Something sentimental?"

That question lingered in your mind long after the call ended.

You thought about Lando—not the racing driver, but the man behind the fame. The one who fell asleep halfway through movies, only to deny it with a sleepy grin when you called him out. The one who made the worst dad jokes just to see you roll your eyes, only to laugh harder when you fought back a smile. The one who still had a tattered old karting helmet on display in his gaming room, not because it was valuable, but because it was his first. Because it meant something.

And then, finally, an idea struck.

On the night of his birthday, you stood outside his place, a carefully wrapped box in one hand and a homemade cake in the other, nerves twisting in your stomach like tangled ribbons. The cool night air nipped at your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that had your heart racing—it was the anticipation, the wondering if this little surprise would be enough. The gift wasn’t extravagant or flashy, but it was thoughtful, personal. At least, that was the hope.

Before you could let doubt creep in, the door swung open, revealing Lando, his signature grin lighting up the dimly lit doorway. His curls were still slightly damp from a shower, a cozy hoodie hanging loosely over his frame. He looked like he’d been waiting all night just for you.

“There you are,” he said, voice warm and easy, like he hadn’t just made your heart lurch in your chest. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that made the rest of the world blur into the background. His arms were strong around you, his chin resting briefly against your temple before he pressed a quick, affectionate kiss there. The scent of fresh laundry and that familiar cologne he always wore wrapped around you, comforting in a way that made your nerves settle—just a little.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, running his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm you up. “Come in, love, before you turn into an icicle.”

Stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in warmth, the contrast making you realize just how cold you’d been. The air smelled sweet—vanilla, cinnamon, and a hint of chocolate. It wasn’t overwhelming, just subtle enough to feel like home.

Your gaze flickered to the counter, where you set the cake down carefully. The sugary aroma mingled with the quiet stillness of the space, and that’s when it hit you—there was no loud music, no crowded room filled with friends or flashing cameras. Just him. Just you.

You raised an eyebrow, turning to him with an amused smirk. “Lando Norris, the biggest party animal ever, and you didn’t want a massive party? I don’t believe it.”

Lando chuckled, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Didn’t feel like it this year,” he admitted with a little shrug. His voice softened as he added, “Just wanted you.”

Your stomach did a ridiculous little flip at that, warmth blooming across your chest. He said it so easily, so matter-of-factly, like there had never been another option. Like he couldn’t imagine spending the night with anyone else.

Trying to shake off the way your heart was stuttering, you quickly gestured toward the cake. “Well, you’re still getting cake,” you announced, pulling the box open. “And I’m singing to you whether you like it or not.”

Lando groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Please, no.”

“Too late,” you said with a wicked grin, striking an exaggerated pose before lighting the candles. Taking in a deep breath, you launched into the most dramatic, horrifically off-key rendition of Happy Birthday that had ever been performed.

“Happy biiirthdaay to youuu, happy biiirthdaay to youuu,” you dragged out the notes, watching as Lando pressed his lips together, trying—and failing—not to laugh. By the time you reached the grand finale, he had his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Happy birthday, dear Lan-dooo, happy birthday to you!”

Lando clapped slowly, his eyes bright with amusement. “That was painful.”

“Excuse you,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “That was a performance, thank you very much. A labor of love.”

“A labor of something, that’s for sure,” he teased, dodging the half-hearted swat you sent his way.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a knife and carefully cut two generous slices, handing one to him before picking up your own fork. “Whatever. The cake will make up for it.”

Lando took a bite, eyes widening slightly before he let out a satisfied hum. “Okay, fine,” he admitted, mouth half-full. “Maybe you are forgiven.”

“Damn right, I am.”

"You never told me you could bake." Lando said, whilst he was still eagerly eating his birthday cake.

You shrugged, feeling oddly pleased. "I don’t do it often. But special occasions call for special effort."

He grinned, reaching over to swipe a bit of frosting onto his finger before tapping it against the tip of your nose. "Well, consider me impressed."

The two of you lingered at the counter, taking your time with the cake, stealing bites from each other’s plates in between soft laughter. It became a game—Lando would pretend to be too distracted to notice you sneaking a bite of his, only to turn at the last second and catch you in the act. The mock scandal in his expression, the dramatic gasp, the way he’d immediately retaliate by swiping frosting from your plate—it all had you grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered after you successfully managed to get a forkful of his cake for the third time. “This is my birthday, and you’re the one getting extra cake?”

You licked a bit of frosting off your thumb, feigning innocence. “I can’t help it. Yours just tastes better.”

Lando narrowed his eyes at you, clearly unconvinced, before dipping his finger into a dollop of frosting and swiping it across the tip of your nose.

You gasped, mouth dropping open. “Lando!”

“Oops,” he said, entirely unapologetic, leaning back against the counter with a shit-eating grin. “Bit of an accident, that.”

“An accident?” You scoffed, wiping at your nose, but before you could retaliate, he ducked away with a laugh, already bracing for your revenge.

The playful moment settled into something softer, quieter, as the two of you finished off the last bites, licking stray bits of frosting off your fingers.

And then, finally, it was time for the present.

You wiped your hands on a napkin, nerves creeping back in as you reached into your bag. The laughter faded into something more expectant, your heart thudding a little too fast as you pulled out the carefully wrapped box. You hesitated for just a second, your fingers tightening around it, before pushing it toward him across the counter.

Lando’s brows lifted, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. That look—the one that always made your stomach flip. “You’re nervous.”

“A little,” you admitted, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Just open it.”

To your relief, he didn’t tease you further. Instead, he gave you one last amused glance before turning his attention to the box, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper. His movements were unhurried, precise—the way he always was with things that mattered. The sound of the crinkling paper filled the quiet space, stretching the moment, making your stomach twist with anticipation.

And then, finally, he lifted the lid.

For a second, he didn’t move. His blue eyes locked onto the object inside, his expression flickering through a range of emotions—curiosity, intrigue, and then, something that looked almost like wonder.

A levitating globe.

The sleek black stand seemed to disappear beneath it, letting the illuminated sphere hover weightlessly in midair. The dim glow from the continents reflected in his wide eyes as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above its surface before finally brushing against it.

“It’s just…” He trailed off, watching as the globe spun effortlessly beneath his touch. A soft, breathless laugh escaped him. “How is this even—? It’s floating.”

Your own nervous laugh bubbled up. “I figured… what do you get the guy who already has everything? You give him the world.” You paused, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Well, a tiny floating version of it.”

Lando’s head snapped up, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, he just looked at you. His lips parted slightly, like he had something to say but wasn’t sure how to say it.

And then, the biggest smile broke across his face—one of those wide, dimpled grins that made your heart stumble over itself.

“You’re unbelievable.” His voice was softer now, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You tilted your head, feigning nonchalance. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

His fingers spun the globe one last time before reaching for your hand, his grip warm and firm. “A very, very good thing.”

Your stomach flipped at the softness in his voice, at the way he was looking at you like you had somehow just handed him something priceless.

“You really like it?” you asked, still a little uncertain.

Lando glanced back at the globe, watching the continents blur together, before shaking his head slightly, like he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “I don’t just like it.” His gaze flicked back to you, full of something deep and unreadable. “This is one of the coolest things anyone’s ever given me. Seriously.”

The relief that washed over you was instant, but before you could say anything—before you could even process how happy he looked—he was already closing the distance between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that started soft, slow, but quickly deepened. One of his hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head just the way he liked, while the other slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He was warm—so warm—and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he kissed you with quiet urgency.

His lips tasted like frosting and something undeniably him, and you sighed against his mouth, your fingers gripping onto his sweater for support.

Lando made a sound in response, low and satisfied, his grip tightening as he angled the kiss deeper. His thumb traced slow, teasing circles against your hip, and heat coiled low in your stomach, a shiver running down your spine.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath was warm against your lips. His voice was rougher, lower when he murmured, “Best birthday ever.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his sweater. “You sure it’s not just because of the kiss?”

His grin was slow, utterly shameless. “That definitely helped.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully, but before you could pull away, he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm.

His thumb brushed across your knuckles before he tugged you closer again, this time pressing a lingering, unhurried kiss to your lips—slower, softer, like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, he did.

Because right now, in this quiet little moment, there was nothing else. No distractions, no pressure, no expectations. Just the two of you.

And all those nerves, all the overthinking, melted away.

Because maybe Lando didn’t actually need the world.

Maybe, he just needed you.

[bvidzsoo]

Cherry Blossom, March Event M.list

Authors: ❀ @hongjoongspoetry & bvidzsoo ❀

Pairing: Ateez members x reader

❀ Genre: fluff, soulmate tropes, romance aus ❀ Rating: sfw ❀ Status: finished

Synopsis: Tired of all the grey weather and the relentless winter cold? Dive into the world of our Cherry Blossom event, riddled with heartwarming and sweet drabbles, here to help ease you into the defrosting spring that we have ahead of us.

❀ This is a collection of eight drabbles written by Mina and myself, containing individual and quite unique soulmate tropes paired with a variety of aus, which have been chosen randomly by us, then placed in a spin-the-wheel to make it all the more interesting when selecting who would write what. ❀

A/N: Hello, my loves, Mina and I are back with a little fluffy surprise for the entirety of March! We are both so excited about this little event, it's actually my first this kind of collaboration despite the many years I've been on this site writing, so I'm really excited about it, and I know Mina is too. I hope we have sparked your interest, here you can check out the event announcement. We also have a taglist for this event that you can join if you'd like! ^^ dividers

❀ Taglist ❀

3rd March - Chasing your shadows (Ariadné)

❀ Outlaw!Kim Hongjoong x Bounty hunter!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Each day on your arm is a particular event your soulmate will face. Summary: What was supposed to be a wild chase after a bounty you had your eyes set on for years now, turns into a life changing event. You had always known your soulmate was never up to any good thanks to the words inked on your inner forearm ever since you were five years old, but you hadn't expected him to be the biggest menace known to the state...or the man you had been relentlessly chasing, trying to catch for the hefty reward promised.

7th March - Pretend You Love Me (Mina)

❀ Badboy!Choi Jongho x Student!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Your soulmate's name is on your wrist. Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other's names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you're stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho's tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

10th March - A world in your colours (Ariadné)

❀ Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: You see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate. Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

14th March - A Second to Forever (Mina)

❀ Mixed fairy!Seonghwa x Fairy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A timer counting down for when you meet your soulmate. Summary: The countdown on your wrist was getting closer to its end and the jitters of finally meeting your soulmate were rendering you an anxious mess. It was a moment you had waited for your entire life - the chance to put a face and name to the person you were destined to meet - and it made you think of different ways to escape fate. After a series of comedic events where everything that could go wrong, did, you met your soulmate. In that instant, everything changed. The encounter was filled with sparks of attraction, warmth and genuine connection, leading to a tender first interaction that left you both feeling enchanted.

17th March - So it's always been you (Ariadné)

❀ Model!Jung Wooyoung x Stylist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Whenever you lose an item, it ends up in your soulmates' possession somehow. Summary: Both young and restless, Wooyoung and you have started out your careers around the same time. As newbies in the industry, you quickly found yourselves sticking together and growing closer with each passing day. Now, many years down the line, everyone knows that you and Wooyoung are inseparable besties, who have each other's backs and will crack up at the stupidest of jokes. As his stylist, it's also convenient that whatever Wooyoung loses just magically turns up in your possession since he's known for losing his stuff often. It takes you quite the years to figure it out, but when you do eventually, everything just clicks in place, all of it making sense.

21st March - Just Another Night, Until You (Mina)

❀ Firefighter!Choi San x Emergency physician!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Being next to your soulmate heals their and your injuries. Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

24th March - The pink and blue of your skin (Ariadné)

❀ Sunshine!Jeong Yunho x Grumpy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint there. Summary: If there's one person you never understood, and stopped trying to, it was Jeong Yunho. Upon your first meeting back in college, you just knew he'd be a pain in the ass...and you were right. His vibrant personality matched with the constant smile on his face and sickening positivity always made you stay away from him. But much to your dismay, your friend groups mashed quite well, and years after college, you were still going strong and hanging out at any given opportunity. Much to your horror, your best friend makes you share a room and a bed with Yunho for the weekend, and that's when things change...but not for the reasons you'd first think of.

28th March - Sparks and Bruises (Mina)

❀ Boxer!Song Mingi x Real estate agent!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Meter showing how much of a danger your soulmate is in. Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[incelraki]

(Epilogue!) Bill Dickey NSFW headcanons (and drabble)

MDNI!!! this is very much 18+ content, shoo! shoo!

Warnings: general gross behaviour, stalking, dick stepping (mild mention), humiliation, misogynistic terms and cuss words LMK if i missed anything!!

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

One of those guys to buy a body pillow of his fav or one of a girl that looks like his crush

That thing reeks and we all know it

Only showers if absolutely necessary

soft stalks his person of interests

Uses websites like 4chan to find home camera's of girls near him

Remember that scandal that happened years ago? There were these cameras people has put up in around their houses and you were supposed to enter a passcode to get into your feed Except, most people didn’t do that. So, many hackers were able to easily get into people’s home cameras and watch them without them noticing One even made a site where you could find these cams for free and watch people. This was sent all over 4chan and enjoyed by incel perverts all over the world

Some freaks would go as far as to use the microphone function to talk to people, others would send secret gifts to people’s doorstep’s after watching them, to freak em out

A public security notice was immediately thrown out there by the company when the site was discovered But a lot of people didn’t see the news, never checked their email and left their passcodes unused.

The site is still up, or the cams are at least still able to be hacked into

I know Bill is the type of bastard to find a pretty girl who was too much of a dumb bimbo to change her passcode and watch her. How convenient she has a camera in her bedroom.

Secretly loves having his dick stepped on

and being humiliated by someone far bigger than him (preferably a big-chested bimbo doll)

His glasses fog up as hes fucking his fist while watching some porno

alternatively: he's watching you through a secret camera feed

Whimpers like a bitch in heat when he's getting close

Imagining you fucking bill and him uncharacteristically inviting you over to the Eltingville club

Joining a club meeting a week or so after fucking Bill and everyone knows but no one fucking says anything You’re gaming, probably some rpg with big chested ladies, when you suddenly blurt out how pathetic Bill really is, and how quickly he finished Bill puts on an act, calling you a braid dead femoid who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about But deep down, his stomach is doing back flips because oh my god he’s so embarrassed and oh my god he has the biggest boner of his life right now

It goes without saying that before meeting you he had never touched a girl before, let alone fucked one

PWP below the cut

"Put it in already." You whine at Bill who is currently fumbling his cock against your leaking cunt. "S-Shut the hell up stupid bitch, let me take my god damn t-time."

You roll your eyes, leaning on your hand as you wait for him to push his cock into you. Sure it's barely over 5 inches but by god do you want it deep inside you right this second. And to think this guy had been following you home from the bus stop not even an hour ago. Christ, what was wrong with you? "You sure y'don't want me to help, dumbass?" You groan, not waiting for an answer and grabbing his cock. Surprisingly he actually has a condom on, even though he genuinely forgot they existed for a split second. ("Oh man I forgot about those.." He just wanted a creampie like in a real porn, man!)

"He-Hey! Careful with that you're gonna rip it off you dumb cuu--nnttt.." His swear was cut short as you guided his swollen glans into your heat. "There we go, loser. Now move your hips, you do know how to do that, right? Or do I have to help you with that too?"

"Shut the hell up.." Bill tsk'ed, and slid the rest of his throbbing dick into your hot pussy. "F-Fuhhh.." He bit his lip so hard he was sure he was going to break skin any second.

"That's good huh?" You giggled, pressing your plump ass flush against his hips. His hairy tummy tickled against your butt slightly once your skin met.

"Oh my f-ff..." Bill's eyes rolled back, pressing himself as close to you as possible and promptly cumming hard into the condom you'd managed to find at the last second. His mind went blank as he pumped a thick load into your warm heat.

"You've got to be kidding me.." You snorted, clearly annoyed. That was your last condom for fuck's sake!

[scarletriddles]

Lost in the fire ˚༄ | S.R

↳ in which the team’s newest case puts your life in jeopardy, at your own accord.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: angst, sprinkle of fluff

warnings: general cm gore/case discussion, fire/arson, injuries related to fire, swearing, references to religion + greek mythology, friends to…? (they’re in la-la-la-love, your honour), some possible inaccuracies (sorry!), small jemily mention because lesbian rights, hopeful ending, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person narrative.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: my first ever fic i’m very nervy🫣i’m not expecting this to gain any sort of traction, but lmk how you find it, i suppose!

“Haley Bradstone, aged twenty-five, and Laura Kilmey, aged twenty-seven, are the most recent victims in a series of murders in Detroit, Michigan. Both victims were discovered four days apart, and only five miles away from each other, their bodies disposed of in black FIBC bulk bags that were left in trash-sites.” JJ pauses, her gaze flickering between the team, almost hesitant as her thumb circles the silver remote. But, with a clearing of her throat, she continues. “Cause of death for both victims has been ruled asphyxiation…by smoke inhalation.”

You abruptly halt toying with the frayed edges of the case file, your eyebrows shooting up and head lifting to look at her, and then also at the rest of the team - who look just as bewildered.

“Sorry, did you just say smoke inhalation?” You ask, genuine confusion weighing down your tone.

JJ nods, her expression dismayed as she eyes the two beaming faces displayed on the board. “Yes, as laid out in the case files, high levels of carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulphide were found in both victim’s lungs. The coroner also noted soot around the victim’s faces, and TBSA burns, all of which are synonymous with death via smoke inhalation.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning is actually the leading cause of death in smoke inhalation - causing approximately 2,100 deaths in the U.S each year.” Spencer adds, followed by his familiar flat smile, which he usually does when he doesn’t know what to do with his face - which happens to be always.

You blink, with a slight quirk to your lips, despite the circumstances. Trust your good doctor to know just about everything.

“Were there reports of any fires around the general area?” Hotch pipes up, his face set in his usual stony expression, though his eyes betray his pensiveness.

JJ shakes her head, adjusting her stance. “No, which is what makes this stranger. The DPD reported no calls about any sort of fire on the days our victims were killed.”

“What? So our unsub just…lit a bunch of fires in plain sight?” Derek questions, with a flick of his brow, his gaze alternating between the board and the manilla folder in his grasp.

You huff, turning to face him with a slight smile, musing. “Must be one hell of a magician.”

Derek smirks in general bemusement, his dark eyes swirled with mirth, his tone light as a feather as he shifts in his scratchy office chair. “Looks like it, lil mama.”

Ever the smooth talker.

“Or, he could be using a secondary location.” Emily chimes in, her narrow-eyed gaze set firm on the file in front of her, her slender fingers fiddling with a bullet-point pen, and her lips contorted into a reflective pout.

“That’s plausible, but you’d think at least someone would notice.” Rossi adds, with a slight huff of incredulity, his calculating gaze sweeping across the entire room before him.

The two smiling faces are quickly joined by two more, both just as radiant, both just as nausea-inducing. Those poor girls.

“We don’t know for sure. But, the most recent victims join twenty-eight year old Sarah Holloway, and twenty-two year old Jessica Bailey. Who, similarly, were found four days apart, five miles away from each other and dumped in black FIBC bags, also ruled dead via asphyxiation. However, Sarah and Jessica’s dumpsites were around 14 miles away from Haley and Laura’s.” JJ purses her lips faintly, eyes still fixated on the crime scene photographs of four similar looking women who didn’t even live properly yet, robbed of the chance to, just like Poseidon robbed Medusa of her autonomy, on the marble steps of her deity’s temple. The thought alone just worsens the crease between her brows.

“four victims…why are they only just asking for our help, now?” Spencer ponders, features frozen in contemplativeness. His fingers sweep up to push his black-rimmed frames back to their previous position on the bridge of his nose.

God, you love his glasses.

JJ’s face morphs into a faint grimace, as she replies in a reluctant tone. “Unfortunately, the media managed to connect the dots on this one, they’re dubbing our unsub ‘the smoke-killer.’ But, the DPD really needs our help with this.”

You sigh, eyes trained on the gruesome imagery displayed on the silver screen. No matter how long you’ve been with the BAU, the violence never quite gets bearable for you, though you can’t bring yourself to look away - like witnessing a car-crash. You understand the psychology behind it, shock rooting the human body in place as the brain tries to comprehend that what it’s processing is real.

But, guilt still flows around in your system like the Noachian flood. Maybe, if you thought about it hard enough, you’d feel the ark bashing against your innards as it tries to navigate the brutal waves.

You suppose the violence doesn’t get easier for the team, either. Perhaps that’s what keeps you all tethered to each other, bonded. After all, the Greeks did beat the Trojans in unity - and disguised as a large, ligneous horse, but you digress.

Hotch nods, solemnly. “Alright, we can discuss further on the jet. Wheels up in 20.” And with that, he abruptly stands up, striding out of the room with a sureness in his step that only he could possess, effectively putting an end to the briefing.

The screen then goes dark, the car-crash finally being attended to. The sounds of chairs scraping across the frizzled navy carpeted floor and paper rustling bounces around the small space, as everyone heads out and into the bullpen, all but the exception of spencer, who remains seated, brooding over his manilla file as though he’s a modern day Thomas Aquinas. always thinking. You muse to yourself, though your eyebrow still raises in question nonetheless.

“Reid, you coming?” You probe gently, standing in the doorway with a faint grin. Your eyes flickering like fairy-lights all around his hunched-over frame.

Spencer startles slightly, craning his head up from the file and over to you - a rosy hue creeping up the nape of his neck from the sight of you alone. He swallows, standing up suddenly, and pushing his chair out with his hip, as he breathes out. “Uh, yea-yeah i’m…i’m coming.” He collects his things quickly, scrunching up his case file as he slings his satchel over his shoulder. Though, it doesn’t really matter, he’s already memorised it from start to finish. Eidetic memory and all.

He flashes you his signature flat smile once again, as his muddy hues rake over your appearance. You look pretty today, well he thinks you always look pretty, but today especially. Your hair swishes around your face in wisps like cotton-candy, your frame adorned in your usual grey fitted slacks, paired with a pink striped puff sleeved button down and black leather boots.

He believes you’re the personification of an angel, and with the way the abnormally-harsh office lighting is dancing around your hair in a nimbus-like manner, he’s probably right.

“C’mon then doctor genius, we have an hour long flight to catch.” Your voice rolling out with a teasing lilt, a subtle smile curled around the edges of your glossed lips.

Spencer usually loathes being referred to as a genius, namely because it’s said with such obvious sneer and condescension, like he’s an abnormal form, like he’s still that twelve-year-old high schooler. But, you never say it with thinly-veiled disgust, no, you say it with such reverence- like it’s something to be admired.

Yeah, angel.

He mirrors your smile, eyes soft and starry eyed as he follows you out of the room. “one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 seconds.” He corrects softly, always keen for specifics, his satchel smashing against his upper-thigh periodically as he walks beside you.

You huff in amusement, rolling your eyes in jest. “Right. My bad, one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 second long flight.” Your head tilts up slightly to look up at him, your irises dipped in unsubtle gaiety,

Spencer lets out a huffy laugh of his own, shaking his head in amusement. He loved when you teased him, though he’d never admit that. At least, not to you anyway.

“Oh, forgive me for being specific.” He sounds out, airily, like a dish-soap bubble crafted by small exploring hands, as he places his own ridiculously large palm on his chest in mock-offence.

“more like particular.” You reply, just as you reach your desk, in faux-annoyance, the curl of your lips betraying that fact.

Spencer puffs out another slight laugh in response, as he leans against the edge of your desk, watching you comb through it. His gaze doesn’t settle, darting around the array of trinkets and just general stuff aligning the glossy oak, including the multiple pots of bright pens - some looking vaguely like the ones he’s seen scattered around Penelope’s ‘bat-cave’ - and even a stick-figure drawing of him scribbled onto a canary yellow sticky-note, featuring overly large glasses and converse, which are more akin to clown shoes, alongside an equally as dramatised stick-figure version of Morgan, complete with a badly scrawled out six pack and huge biceps.

He feels a warmth blossom in his chest as looks over the cluttered space. It’s just so irrevocably you.

“particular or not, i still believe everything-“ He begins.

“-everything should be accurate, wherever possible” You mock affectionately, with a barely hidden smirk, still rooting through your things like a squirrel digging for an acorn.

A slight pout forms on his face, bordering on more petulant than anything. “How’d you even know I was going to say that?”

A faint effervescent giggle slips past your lips, your head still firmly pulled down, as your hands continue their wandering through your desk drawers. “ ‘Cause you’ve said that line at least a dozen times now, doc.” You drawl out, still grinning to yourself.

He wants that sound to be his morning alarm.

He rolls his eyes, only half-seriously, a smile lighting the corners of his mouth up like a vegas ‘welcome’ sign. “I have not said that a dozen times!” He huffs out, with a shake of his head at the injustice of it all, his dark curls springing with the movement.

You just smile, continuing to rifle through your desk before you locate what you were looking for, quickly straightening up and collecting the rest of your things before turning to him.

“Well, I’m all set doctor, lead the way.”

“Is that just so you don’t get lost again?” he replies, with an overt teasing twinkle.

You groan, blowing out like a whistle “that was one time! i was still new, and the hallways are confusing!”

He just bellows out a laugh, pushing up off the edge of your desk and beginning to walk - more like stride - his way to the elevators. You in tow, but just barely. His legs are way too long.

“I can put a sign on my back that says, ‘follow me’, if needs be.” He throws behind his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up!” You bark out, not really with any bite. Never with him.

It had been about three days since you landed in Detroit, Michigan. Most of that time being spent cramped up in the tiny makeshift office curated for the team, downing copious amounts of coffee, reading files until the backs of your eyes burned and dodging the borderline leering looks from the mid 40-year-old, beer gut endowed cops.

In other words, it was hell.

The team had made some progress, though. Narrowing down the profile to a white male in his early to mid thirties, who works a menial job, of average height and build, and who clearly dislikes women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow down the ‘Where’s Waldo’ search by much. But still, you really just couldn’t shake the obvious question…

Why go through all the trouble of burning these women, but not completely, just to dump their bodies?

And it seemed that question floated around the backs of everyone else’s mind, too. It was bizarre, to say the least.

Currently, the team is all stuffed in said aforementioned makeshift office space, like sardines in a can, no less. Emily and JJ sat at the table together, as usual, Derek propped up against the wall, Hotch and Rossi stood brooding in the corner of the room, quietly discussing something between themselves, leaving you and Spencer situated in front of the board, where the geographical profile is mapped out.

“He’s operating within a 20 mile radius, dumping the bodies within an area he’s comfortable in. He’s either going to strike here.” Spencer points to a spot on the map with his finger, tapping against it slightly before dragging it across and towards another spot, “or here.” His features were swamped in pondering thought, his honeyed gaze encompassing the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, but i still don’t understand why he’d go through all the trouble of burning them till they die from smoke inhalation, and then discarding the bodies. jus’ seems a lil’ pointless t’ me” Morgan drawls out, his stance wide and his arms folded, one of his hands resting on his chin.

“well ain’t that the million dollar question.” You reply, with a sigh lathered in perplexity, your arms folded in a similar manner, but with one of your hands rubbing up the side of your arm, in a absentminded fashion.

“Morgan’s right, it doesn’t make any sense.” Hotch pauses slightly, contemplating - like everybody else in the room. His dark eyebrows stitched together, and his lips set in a taut frown.

“None of it makes sense, i mean, even the dumping method, why bulk bags and not just plain ol’ trash bags?” Emily questions, sitting back in her seat with an exhale, her legs crossed with her boot-clad foot tapping against one of the legs of the rickety table.

You blink, a thought coming to you at her question. “Theres a Hardware store in the middle of town, right?” You throw out, hands stuffed into the pockets of your black slacks.

Hotch’s brows furrow, as he regards you. “Yes, why?” He says simply, almost curiously.

You shrug, “so then he’d probably be getting the bulk bags from there, since it’s easily accessible.”

Everyone goes silent at your question, seemingly mulling it over, before Morgan responds.

“If so, why wouldn’t he just buy trash bags?” He says, with a cock of his brow.

“Because he wants the victims to be found.” Spencer states, plainly, piling onto your train of thought and rocking back and forth on his heels, as his tongue darts out, swiping his slightly dry bottom lip.

“Think about it, a bulk bag is much more conspicuous than a simple trash bag, he wants his handiwork to be seen - maybe not right away, but he knows at least one person would find the presence of a large plastic bag near a dumpster to be…alarming, whereas no one would bat an eye at seeing a trash bag. Same goes for his M.O, he most likely has some sort of access to an incinerator, perhaps due to his job, which allows him to discreetly ‘burn’ his victims, before dumping them in a way which derives notice.”

His hands flail around wildly as he talks, an endearing habit that makes it seem like he’s so excited to talk about what he’s discussing that, at the minimum, one part of his body has to move with the speed of his mouth.

You smile - more of a secret thing, really, just for yourself - you love listening to that man talk. It’s the eighth wonder of the world, to you.

Everyone nods, the notion seemingly settling into their psyche without much problem, as logically, it did make sense.

“If thats the case, then we have a problem.” Rossi scratches the side of his jaw lightly, his head tilted and his bronze hues directed at the table.

Emily raises her brow, in clear need of clarification. “What problem?” She murmurs out, her head cocked to the side, questioningly.

“We have an unsub who wants attention, and will stop at nothing to get it.” Hotch adds on, sharing a brief glance with Rossi, his expression more grave than usual, before he fishes out his phone, dialling a number and setting the onyx Nokia down onto the table. “Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello, my favourite crime-fighters! To what do i owe the pleasure?” The shrill cheery voice of Penelope Garcia rings out, immediately bringing a small smile to your face. She really was like bathing in sunshine.

“We were wondering if you could take a look at a hardware store’s sales within the last month, more specifically of FIBEC bulk bags.” Hotch drags out, his arms still folded and his face betraying nothing but his usual stoicism.

“Oh, that i can do upside down with my hands tied, sir! just…one…second.” Penelope’s voice hauls out, followed by the rapid clinking of keyboard keys. “What’s the name of the store?” She asks, her tone focused.

“Sally’s Shack” Hotch replies, his tone equally levelled.

After a few moments, and a lot more keyboard clicking, Penelope finally pipes up again. “Ah-hah! so, it appears that our shack in question has sold six FIBEC bulk bags within the last month, all to the same buyer - well, at least the same credit card was used, ending in 4678.”

Hotch looks visibly taken aback slightly, before he asks “Can you get a name, Garcia?”

“Already on it, sir.” Penelope replies, with her usual peachy tone.

A tense silence follows, only sporadically broken by the clickity-clack of Penelope’s rainbow pastel keyboard. Then, she pipes up again.

“Okay…looks like the card belongs to a 33-year-old, Mr. Eugene Humphrey, who currently works at…” Her words trail off, obvious hesitance behind them “…burns funeral home and crematory, and owns a residence just in the middle of town.”

Everybody seems to pause, then. He matches the profile - Mid thirties, works a menial job which would give him access to a ‘discreet’ burning method and just so happened to purchase the same material used by the unsub, whilst also owning his own property not too far away from the hardware store in which the material was purchased…yeah that can’t be a simple coincidence.

“Pen, does he have a criminal record of any kind?” Your voice floats out, drifting through the confined space like Thumbelina on her shamrock lily-pad.

“I will have a looksie for you now, my sweet sugar muffin, just hang on one second-“ Penelope cuts herself off as her fingers begin their ministrations again, the keyboard rumbling with every tap, a smile edging on your face at the absurd term of endearment.

“Alright…looks like our guy spent six months in juvenile detention when he was sixteen for lighting his girlfriend’s car on fire, claimed he caught her cheating on him with his best friend, youch!”

You can practically see the cogs turning in your teammates heads, looks like you got your guy.

“Okay, thats good garcia, could you-“

“-send his information over? already done, sir.” promptly interrupting the low voice of your unit chief, in a way that is so Penelope, that he can’t really object.

“Thank you Garcia, We appreciate it” Hotch replies in his typical authoritative tone.

“You’re welcome, my gorgeous gods and goddesses, now go and save lives.” Penelope chirps out, swinging on her swanky desk chair, her hands now preoccupied with a bright pink fluffy pen.

“You’re the best, babygirl.” Morgan calls out, his tone suave and a smirk illuminating his features.

Penelope lets out a giggle, replying in her token-teasing articulation. “Only for you, my chocolate thunder, now ta-ta!” Her sing-songy voice sounds out with finality, before the line drops, indicating that she ended the call.

“Alright, everyone, looks like we’re scoping a funeral home. I’ll go inform the captain, and i need all of you to gear up, as a cautionary, is that clear?” Hotch demands, his gaze expectant.

resounding murmurs of “yes” fill out the area, to which the dark-haired agent replies to with a curt nod, before swiftly exiting the room.

You let out a breath, turning to the rest of the team with a faintly reluctant expression. “Let’s get this show on the road then, guys.”

Morgan flashes an easy smile, coming up behind Spencer and clapping him on the shoulder, his smooth voice infused with teasing. “You heard her, pretty boy, let’s get moving.”

Spencer has to resist an eye-roll, his cheeks immediately flushing raspberry red, whereas you just let out a small confused laugh - clearly not in on whatever inside joke that seems to be playing out - turning on your heel and prancing out of the room, leaving the two of them to squabble like 10-year-old brothers.

Though, on your way out, you swear you saw Emily squeeze JJ’s hand underneath the table…

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

You don’t know how - hell, nobody on the team knows how, but Humphrey somehow found out you were coming. He might’ve gotten some frustratingly accurate in-tell, or maybe he just… knew. After all, bad news attracts bad news, right? And being arrested for the murders of four women sure seems like pretty bad news. Or maybe he was a paranoid fuck. Either thought seems plausible, but currently pointless.

Ironically, Burn’s Funeral Home and Crematory, was well…burning. The two-story high foundation, which you’re guessing was once a depressing waxen colour, is now engulfed in orange. Bright, blazing orange, and for a moment, you almost believe the sun crash-landed onto earth.

The ignited shades dance across your features , making you look like you’re almost glowing. You hear Morgan let out a few curses, and Emily mutter something eerily close to “Oh my God” under her breath. But, the rest of you remain silent, devoid of speech, heads lifted up and staring at the fiery wreckage. Drawn in, entranced.

You can’t pull your eyes away, Not even when Hotch snaps out of his own silent gazing and begins to talk around you, shooting out instructions like darts to your co-workers. Well, until you hear a fire-man trudge past you, in full PPE and carrying a winding anaconda-like hose, writhing along the gravelled floor with each step he takes, similar orders being barked out of his mouth to his team-mates. But, that isn’t what grabs your attention, it’s the information coming from his radio.

A mother and her child are stuck in there, apparently looking for a casket for her husband before the building went up in flames, and they aren’t even going to attempt to save them - something about the fire being “too large, too risky.”

A mother and her child. Her 8-year-old little girl who just lost her father, and now is going to lose her own life, trapped in a scorching maze.

Not on your watch.

You will not, cannot, let this sick bastard take another girl’s life.

Your legs move before your brain even has time to catch-up, darting straight past multiple fire personnel who all try to stop you, but you dodge each one. Not even the sounds of the team shouting your name halts you, your figure retreating straight into the raging inferno.

What’s that saying? Moth to a flame?

Well, consider the molten-structure your flame. Because you won’t stop, will not stop, not until the mother and her daughter are out. Safe.

Either way, God appeared before Moses in the form of a fiery bramble. And maybe, he was doing it again, instead for their freedom, not yours or a 120-year-old man’s. You were getting them out of this desert, even if there were no miles of grainy-sand and the occasional tumbleweed, but instead hot, piercing, smouldering heat.

Spencer’s astute brain doesn’t take long to register what the hell you are doing. And, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so panicked. He practically screeches your name, moving to go after you, but with no such luck as Morgan and Hotch hold him back. But he fights, and he fights harder than he’s ever had in his life, because this is you.

“Let me go! she’s in there! you can’t just let her go in there!” He shrieks, every word sharpened with utter desperation.

Neither Morgan’s nor Hotch’s replies to his incessant wailing actually penetrates his mind. He feels like he’s underwater, succumbing to the depths of the Mariana Trench, fading black and blue.

The water freezes over the longer you’re in there. Trapped in that dismal, enflamed formation. He feels sick, but he knows spilling his stomach content won’t provide any relief, it’s a sickness that’s lodged itself into his bones, into his very being. He wonders if this is what the Woolly Mammoths felt like during the first coming of the glacial-period, just observing as they, one-by-one, all perished to the frost.

He can’t have lost you. Not before he-

…Not before he could tell you that you’re his first thought when he wakes up, and his last before he surrenders himself to the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

No, this can’t be it. He refuses, he downright rejects the thought.

He just stares, and stares at the lit up property, his whole entity screaming for you to just make it. His mind and mouth spinning prayers to god’s he doesn’t even believe in because if there was any chance of that turning the cards in your favour, then he’s taking it and holding on tight.

The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes like hours. Time is a fickle thing, always stretching and compressing back together again depending on someone’s emotions. But, that philosophy does nothing to distract him from the ache. Because a life without you in it, he grasps, isn’t a life at all. Not one that he wants to live, anyway.

Two soot-covered frames emerge from the fiery entrance, immediately being swept away by fire-personnel for medical treatment. And his heart stops, until he realises you aren’t either of those coughing figures.

Where are you? Why aren’t you coming out?

Time seems to stretch again, expanding like a black-hole over his fitful, beating heart. Ready to consume, ravage. But, maybe, that would be an act of mercy, anything would be an act of mercy compared to the waiting. Agonising, hoping and waiting.

Then…a third figure finally bursts out of the flames. He’s seen that mop of hair before, he knows that hair. Even at a fair distance, hunched over and simultaneously gasping for air and hacking your lungs up, tousled, with skin embedded in ash, You’re beautiful and you’re alive.

You’re alive.

He pushes his body forward and he runs, he sprints and goes to you. And this time, Hotch and Morgan let him.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

IYCRTTBFO - Joel Miller x reader

cw: dbf! Joel is also a cam model, light(ish) daddy kink, creampies, at least two references to Wheeler Walker Jr. songs, big fat age gap

You couldn't sleep. It started at college, when you were working part-time while doing your masters thesis. Your night shift ended at 2.30 in the morning. Then, by the time you went to bed, you were struggling to shake off the buzzing energy. Your body was tired, and your mind was elsewhere. So you turned to the only true, tried and tested method of getting yourself to sleep. Masturbation. Low effort, porn video you've already watched, finger rubbing your clit, masturbation. It worked for about a week. Then your "sessions" got longer. And longer. You had to spend an hour now, chasing your orgasm. Begging yourself to cum. Getting more frustrated and then practically passing out like a log. You got good sleep out of it. But also it was getting painful. Your clit would hurt, a short stabbing pain taking your mind off of your thesis critique. Not that you were too keen on hearing about the feedback on your research model. So you were going to quit, cold turkey style. On the one hand, your insomnia persisted. Now you had replaced porn with your self assigned reading. But that did not help you sleep, just made you more cranky. Your cycadian rhythm was fucked beyond belief. So you moved through life half- asleep, always spending your days off napping. Morning meetings were rough and when you slept through an internship interview at 1, you knew enough was enough.

Back to flicking the bean to not be mean. You just figured you needed a change of scenery, so to speak. You considered OnlyFans, ready to be shelling out your hard earned cash for tasteful nudes (perhaps those of Markiplier or something like that). But that wouldn't be personal enough. You tried audio stuff, but the JOIs weren't really catered to you. Yes, they had your kinks. Or the pet names you liked. But never together, never quite enough. And call it conditioning, but you wanted something familiar. A certain Austin draw, a slice of the Texas you were far away from. But alas, your cowboy was not on Quinn or soundgasm. So you went old-school.

Girls like you weren't even supposed to know about camming sites. It was such a retro thing, more of your father's and Joel's generation. But it was thanks to the former's inability to delete a browser history that you were here. The landing page of the website was fine. You had to make the choice of looking at women, men, couples, or the trans category. Craving to see a solo cumshot, you click on "male". You should've expected that even here, it would be geared towards other guys, like most porn was. The tags of the rooms said it all. Anal. Fuckmachine. Party. But as you refreshed the home page again, someone caught your eye. It was a guy in a cowboy hat over his face. His tip goal was simple, promising a glimpse of him shirtless. It was the amount of tokens needed that amazed you, it was so high. Seriously, from your little time on the website, you could see this was a bit too self assured. But he was getting there. You clicked the video, morbid curiosity taking over. This and his username of thicktexanbeercan. A man after your own heart.

People flood in, apparently the red color of their usernames means they're part of a fan club? You wanna learn more, so you click through the whole thing. The "cam boy" or "cam man" or whatever you were supposed to call him was just welcoming people. There were other newbies like you because you were half-listening to him explaining about his mic.

"You can hear me so clearly cause I have it clipped to my neck on a fucking chocker. Which you guys should've let die in the 90s btw." You're looking at his tags of #monster cock, #daddy, #master and #orgasmguide. And when someone voices your thought of "some of us weren't even born in the 90s." you found out why. He reads it out and snorts.

"Look at you, so young and already a pathetic little pervert watching older men. What, daddy didn't love you enough, babydoll? So now you gotta come here at night and tune into me stroking my cock for you. Wishing you were on your knees, trying to take it in your bratty little mouth?". The donations explode. The sound effects of coins reverberate through your headphones. The goal is met and the stream has been on for only 15 minutes. You can't see him smile, but you can feel it, by the way his shoulders relax.

"You're such a good girl tonight, spoiling your old man. So needy, already wanting me to take off my clothes. I will, little slut, just let daddy take care of something first." He rolls his chair to the desk and takes his keyboard. You chuckle at the faded and yellowed stickers on it, they vaguely reminded you of something. The man can touch type and you've never wanted to be a pair of keys more in your life. The goal's adjusted, promising whipped cream on his chest. As he fiddles with the camera angles and wonders aloud how to best give you a show, you hover to his bio tab. The man intrigues you. Under real name, he put “Can't tell you, but my screen name is a pun”, so you guess it's Bud or even Sam Addams. His age is listed as late 40s, and when you see a glimpse of his salt and pepper chest hair, it makes sense.

This guy intrigues you. Instead of rubbing one out, you're scrolling further. There's pictures and videos. While there's one of him wearing assless chaps for free (which quickly gets saved to your phone gallery), the rest is behind a paywall. Videos of him cumming or even simple things like doing push-ups. Your palms are itching and you know your payday is coming soon. But before you end up buying a filthy mp4, you go back to the stream.

Somehow, he had made taking off a flannel sexy. Rubbing his fingers against his chest. Touching his happy trail. Then someone in the chat asked, "How much to see the good stuff?" He reads it out, chuckles, and presses a few keys, making a tip menu appear in the chat. It has the usual stuff, promises of flashing his cock or flexing his biceps. C2C and PMs (which you had learned stood for cam to cam and private messages). Then, was the more personal stuff. Nudes rating (5 photos), praise, degradation, ddlg. He clearly knew what people wanted. Was it what he craved as well, you wondered? Then came "the goods" the other person was probably talking about. Jerking off, cumming, even using a vibrator or a fleshlight on himself.

You wondered how long it would take to see the self-described "thicktexanbeercan.". But thanks to someone just as horny as you, if not more, it would be almost immediately. When the tip for "jerking off" came through, he said the person's username and then asked, "How do I thank you, using my southern charm or Austin dirtbag style?"

When the person replied with "dirtbag style," also my pronouns are she/they."he presumably glanced at the message. Probably keeping eye contact with the camera, he reaches for his belt.

"Thank you for being horny, I guess. Desperate little thing, that doesn't like to wait. Impatient darling, needing to see daddy pump his cock for you. Gonna show you exactly what you wanna see, baby.". The belt is on the ground and his jeans are around his ankles. Never did you think that a guy simply taking off his pants would be so hot. Your gaze trails from his delicious thighs to his boxers. Holy shit, even by his outline you can tell that his username isn't an exaggeration.

He pulls it out and it's the prettiest and biggest cock you've ever seen. His hand wraps around it, one slow pump he thrust into, back arching. Then he folds one arm behind his head and turns straight into the camera. You like the mystery, but wish he would show his face. His voice is breathy, he obviously likes what he's doing. And his thrusts are speeding up.

His chat is going crazy, tokens pouring in.

"You like what you see, huh? Bet you're aching to touch yourself, too. Go on, spread your pretty legs for me, and give me a show, too.". Before you know it, you're following his instructions. Pajama pants quickly pulled down, you touch yourself. And God damn, are you wet. You're fucking dripping, for this stranger on the internet. You don't have time to be embarrassed. You trail a finger against your opening, gathering the slick. Then you touch your clit, rubbing it slow and then gradually speeding up. But it's so much more intense, it's fucking electric. You glance at the clock on your phone. Look back at the man on the stream, his chest, his cock. And in a minute you're cumming. Eyes closed, pussy getting tighter and clenching around nothing orgasm. You close the stream, mortified. You go to bed and have the best sleep of your life.

By the next stream, you have an account, and you follow him. He acknowledges that, and you're tempted to already start touching yourself. But it's a Friday night, you've promised yourself that weekends are for yourself. Seeing that you pushed for Saturdays off, one would think you'd need to be up, bright and early, and going somewhere. But not this time. You had planned a slow day, where you catch up on laundry and read. But before the weekend was this. You caught on to today's stream a bit too late. Your cowboy (a middle-aged man that probably didn't know you existed) was already shirtless. He had a loofah and a mug filled with water next to him.

"One of y'all suggested I try temporary tattoos. Now, I had to go to the grocery store and get weird looks as I pumped quarters in a machine. So you better enjoy them. Or actually, if I find good ones online, I'm adding them to the wishlist.". He moves off camera and holds up two sheets of temporary tattoos, very tribal and barbed wire inspired. The other is surprisingly butterflies and unicorns.

He unbuttons his pants and lowers his boxers. You can see just the tip, straight as a ram rod. You can't help but wonder if he gets off on being watched. Your head gets filled with fantasies of him and you. Embarrassingly you're picturing him pulling out his pecker in a mundane place like Walmart and fucking you in the aisles. Maybe you just need to do better groceries, you think looking at the takeout bag from the restaurant you just spent 8 hours in. There were enough chicken nuggets in there to feed a family. You get your mind back in the gutter when the performer moans. You stare at the screen. His torso is covered in the temporary tattoo, and he's strategically placed the barbed wire around his nipples. As he drags the wet loofah against his pelvis, he groans.

"God, this is cold. Wish you were here, to warm up my cock. With your mouth or cunt or ass. Filling you so well."

This time, you come before he's even pulled out his dick. Yet you keep watching. A second orgasm gets squeezed out of you later, with the help of your dildo. When "beercan" reaches a crazy tip goal, he fucks his fleshlight. He's merciless, using the pocket pussy like a cocksleeve, whispering the most obscene stuff.

"You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you like this. Of course you do. You're so tight for me, yet you take my big cock so well. Trained you well, didn't I? Made my own little whore, that needs my cum. Beg for it.". And you do, miles away from this stranger. You orgasm with him, sex toy deep inside of you. He cums and makes the stream watch as he cleans the fleshlight with the same loofah he used earlier.

That stream basically breaks you. For some reason two intense orgasm equal a very productive day then. You're a new person. You study and work better and no longer need to fuck yourself to sleep. That you stranger whose name is Bud or Sam Addams or Miller. Not that you drink the latter anyway, so it never crosses your mind. After all, Joel is older, in his mid 50s. But what he's not above is lying on the internet. Using the world wide web to show his nasty bits to the world. And what he'd soon realize is that his best friend's daughter isn't too.

After finishing your masters thesis, you come to the harrowing reality that there's no jobs for you here. And then comes your dad's constant pestering to come home. You reject him at first. There's nothing left for you in Texas anymore, besides the family house. But then, a former high school mentor posts a job opening on their Instagram story. And it's perfect for you, aside from the fact it's in Austin. You off handedly mention it to your parents, after immediately applying. You don't expect to get it. But with interviews and all, you do. They even allow you to start a bit later, making sure you work off your part-time job shifts.

So you take the plunge and buy plane tickets. There's only one problem. The flight is so early that you'd practically have to leave your empty apartment at 4 in the morning. So you decide to pull an allnighter. You're not sure how you end up back on the chat room site. You don't even know if "thicktexanbeercan" still cams. But as you click on the page, you get a notification that he's in a live show. Feeling bold tonight, you know you wanna be a bit more adventurous. Call it what you will, but you need a shake-up. After so much uncertainty, you need to do something so out of character.

You feel the money in your pocket burns a hole in it. Yes, packing your stuff and sending it back wasn't cheap. Nor was the last-minute plane ticket (even with Spirit airlines). But you had sold a lot of your things, gotten your rental deposit back, and got your days off comped as overtime. So you were, technically, on the flipside. Now, responsible people would put that into savings. You were spending it on tokens. You wanted to be seen. So you tipped for "nudes review." Truth is, ever since your last partner in freshman year of college, it was a string of bad hookups and boring first dates. No one had seen you naked in a while. But that didn't mean you didn't have nudes. Nope, you liked taking shots of yourself in compromising positions. After all, your pretty lingerie deserved to be shown off.

So you mindlessly sent over 4 shots via the opened pm option. He moves a large IPad in front of his face to obscure it. His ever-present cowboy hat is moved to his head as he stares at your pictures. He strokes his cock, at his usual fast pace.

"Jesus fuck, darling, aren't you a treasure. Look at that ass, so perky. It would look good in red, after I'm done with you. Let's see the next one, oh, you're doing the hand bra thing. Need someone to fondle your tits, huh. Don't worry, I'd grope them for you. Put my mouth on them, tease your sensitive nipples. Fuck, let's see the third. Damn, you're stark fucking naked. What a little whore you are, showing me everything. Don't know if I wanna think about your boobs again or your hips or your pussy. Might just stick around and look at it. Only one more, okay. Fuck, that's my favorite one, doll. Even though you should've been more careful. You forgot to crop out your face. I can see your needy expression as you're rubbing your clit. Hand in your lacy black panties, must have been a special night. Who in their right mind would have let you go instead of fucking you right against the mirror you're using as a prop. Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll give you a tribute, right here. How's that sound, darling? You want this old man to cover your photo with his cum in front of thousands of people?".

Any fear or shame you've had is long gone. You don't only want that, you need it. You type a "please, daddy" in the chat. His groan fills your headphones. He fumbles, balancing his hat on his nose. For the first time, you see a glimpse of his face. His tongue wets his lips as he zooms on the iPad, making sure that others only see from your chest down. He jerks his cock over it, painting his screen with spurts of his cum.

"That was intense, think I'll put you on hold for a bit. It's been a while since a first orgasm drained me like that. Daddy will be back soon." He says and pauses the broadcast. Truth is, his cock would be hard again in a minute. It was the fact that he came to you that was haunting him. His best friend's daughter. A girl who was younger than his niece. A woman who was coming back to Texas after leaving as a 19 year old. Then you were still awkward and Joel would never look at you twice. You were a child, for God's sake. But now, some years later you had shed your baby face. You were a fucking bombshell. And he was about to implode.

After a whirlwind rest of the stream, you go to the airport and catch your flight. Despite being a full-grown adult, your parents insist on picking you up. You're back in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of your new life. You notice that some stuff from before is missing.

"Hey dad, where's the old blueetoth keyboard we bought when the laptop was on the fritz? Might need it for work." You ask. You're sure you can easily write down notes on your phone or on paper. But there was something satisfying about hooking up your old iPad to a keyboard and typing. Maybe it's the fact that it got you through college twice that has you feeling sentimental. Maybe it's the truth that your parents didn't know you bought it, and now you had to use it daily to justify spending money on it. Either way, your dad replied with

"Oh, I gave that to Joel. He said he was starting some new call center job and needed it. Working on European projects, so he's always busy at night. Must pay a pretty penny, he's always got packages on his doorstep. You should see his new pickup truck too, she's a beauty." Your father said.

"Didn't need the whole prologue, dad. Can you just get it back?" You ask.

"Now come on honey, you're a grown woman. You can go over and ask him yourself. He's not gonna eat you." Your dad insists, and you have to agree. With a resigned "At least text him and tell him I'm on the way.", you go. There's no use arguing. You can not explain to your dad that when you were 19, you wanted nothing more than Joel taking your virginity. That now, years after, you still wouldn't mind a sip of that can of Miller.

One of the reasons your dad and Joel were friends was the fact that you could get to the latter's house in about 15 minutes. You're there in less, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Joel emerges in a moss green bathrobe and grey sweatpants. His hair is tousled, and it's obvious that he was sleeping. You'd feel bad if he didn't greet you with a

"What the fuck do you want, I ain't buying anything. Oh. It's you. Hey, kiddo.". Your eyes go to the mat on his front porch, but not before taking in his cock. Was he hard? Had you interrupted an intimate moment? You mumble something about "wireless keyboard" and "borrowing it back, please" when he leads you in. If he had a lady friend, she was as quiet as a church mouse.

"It's in the guest room. Had to convert into a sort of home office, after getting a desk job, so many years as a contractor. Got hard on my back. Wanted to enjoy doing nothing, then Sara got knocked up again. Just like Tommy, both of them can't stop having kids. So now I have to be rich gruncle Joel. And I don't know why I'm telling you this instead of just getting the keyboard." He says. Joel pops in, but he doesn't close the door all the way. Peeking in through the hole, it seems familiar. Like you've seen it before, but recently. You shrug off the deja vu and take the keyboard from him. But as he hands it to you, familiar stickers facing you, you piece it together.

"Thicktexanbeercan" had the same one. And you recognized it because you "decorated" it as a sticker obsessed teen. There was no way. Mr. Miller was not camming. You had not orgasmed to him dirty talking to you. And most importantly, he had not come all over a photo of your tits. It was just a huge, cosmic coincidence. But there was only one way to find out.

The wait until your first paycheck was too long, yet you had to endure. There is no way you were taking money out of your savings to fulfill possibly Joel's wishlist. So when that sum hit your bank account, you expertly navigated to thicktexanbeercan's page. Clicking on the shop icon, you choose to ignore that the man is selling his nudes, his underwear, and his socks. Though tempted by the Polaroids of his cock, you move on. You buy the custom temporary tattoos, a callback to a previous stream. Your pussy twitches at the memory and you're quick to suppress your urges. You send your "requirements" to the Amazon seller and hope they get them ready soon. You also secretly order some for yourself, shipping them to a friend's house. You start tuning into the streams regularly, watching them all the way through. Your coworkers have the grace to not comment. Especially since the nightly nsfw is always in the background of something else. So you're doing research on one screen, while listening to maybe Joel call you a nasty whore for watching him.

TGIF was never your thing, until this one. Your cowboy walked in with a package, his address dutifully scribbled out. He opens it and out comes the sheet of temporary tattoos.

"Oh, someone's been watching me for some time, huh. Can't get enough of me inked. Well, I aim to please, so let's get this show on the road.". Beercan undresses to his boxers and starts examining the tattoos.

"Whoever picked these out is one creative motherfucker. I like them.". He starts showing them off to the camera, chuckling about the "save a horse, ride a cowboy" and subsequently the "don't ride a horse, but I'm hung like one". But one in particular makes him tick.

"Your throat goes here? Really, sweetheart? You expect me to walk around with that, to make you all see it as I stroke my cock for you? Fuck it, it's my job to give you a good show." He peels off two of those and places them on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. Was he? He was. Thicktexanbeercan was gonna live up to his name, by using both hands to jerk off.

He's fast, wanting this to end. His Friday shows weren't that popular, so no use milking it. Now, on Saturdays, that's when most people tune in. It's better to save his stamina for then. But you and the chat had other plans. You had mobilized them as he was busy answering questions earlier. Now, he would get enough tokens for a cumshot. Maybe Joel really aims to please. So he goes for it, double orgasm, sure. Then, as soon as that one's over, another. He barks at the chat that he doesn't like being bossed around like that. But you have him cumming until he's shooting blanks. After he just shuts off the stream and goes to bed after running a wet towel on his stomach, to wipe off the cum.

Less than 8 hours later, there's a constant ring of his doorbell. He opens and you're standing there, looking so fuckable his cock stands to attention. You're wearing a skimpy outfit and your lips are shiny with a pinkish gloss. But that doesn't stop him from wondering why you're gracing his doorstep like an angel sent straight from hell.

“I need help picking out a present for my dad.” You say.

“Sweetpea, I know you've been away for a while, but that doesn't change the fact that your dad's birthday isn't for months.” he replies.

"I know. It's not for that. I fucked up and broke something of his. Can you help me?" You ask.

"Sure, what do you need from me?" He counters.

"I think I wanna be stereotypical and get him something stereotypically dad-like. Like a craft beer, something he can crack open with the boys. And since you're "the boys," I'm here. Need a recommendation for a thick Texan beercan." You watch him react. He twitches like a rabbit spooked by a stick snapping.

"So you know. But I'm sure your parents wouldn't be thrilled by the fact that you're watching porn. Have you ever donated, I wonder. Bought something with their hard earned money. Straight from your father's wallet to your daddy." Joel counters, not missing the way your eyes glaze over when he calls yourself your daddy. But you are not won over so easily.

"You're a liar. Late 40s, my ass. Late 40s when you last had to change your ID or what? I could expose you. I'm sure the girlies and the rest watching you would love to know they were scammed. Tinder swindler, but worse."

"What do you want?" He tries.

"As Lana del Rey said, put me in the movie. Let me be in a video." You demand.

"Come back at night, around 9. Get something to cover your face too. Don't need someone recognizing you." He says.

You follow his instructions like an obedient puppy. You make up excuses to your parents. Your cunt's shaved, your outfit is complete and you're not wearing underwear. Joel drags you in, literally. He looks at the pink cowboy hat you have in hand and chuckles.

"No saying my name, preferably not saying much. Just follow my lead, and I'll make you feel good. If you wanna stop, what do you say?" He lists clinically.

"Light beer," you say, acknowledging the pun behind his moniker. You should've figured this out way earlier.

He half laughs, half looks disappointed at your bad pun. You know he's gonna get you back for this , sooner or later. You just desperately hope it's with his dick.

Joel starts the stream. He makes you sit in his chair as he gets a bit closer to the camera. You can see him, mic clipped to chocker and all. He speaks to his chat, introducing you as a "special cowgirl guest.".

"Bet you all wanna take her place. I'm sure she can tell you all about it. If she can speak after I'm done with her anyway." He continues. You wanna protest, to bite back with a comment. But he crawls between your legs, placing kisses up to your pussy. And you are speechless. The fact that you can see him, dark brown eyes and gorgeous roman nose is too much. He's even revealing the top of his greying hair. You grip it and bring him closer to your center. He chooses to lick and suck your clit instead and you moan so loud, even the felt of your hat doesn't muffle it.

"Gonna make you extra wet so you can take my cock, doll. Would you like that?" He asks and you reply with "yes, daddy". You can hear him extra crisp, the audio bouncing around the room. It's all too much, every fantasy of yours coming to life. You come against him, riding it out.

"You ready for more, my little fuckdoll? Can I?" He asks. You plead, you tell him you need him.

Joel makes sure to zoom the camera to your sopping cunt, showing you off to the chat. He fiddles with it, making sure it captures your greed. He sits on the chair, swatting your ass to get you up. Legs trembling, you do. He unzips his jeans, the sound as familiar to you as a notification on your phone. He puts it against you, just to give his viewers a preview on how deep he was gonna be in you.

"You think I'll fuck her up. Make this pussy memorize the shape of my cock. Let's give this pretty doll her first cervix bruising, shall I?" He says. He slides his cock in you in one swoop motion, not caring about the stretch.

"Just like that." You moan, dangerously close to saying his name. Joel spreads your legs and fucks into you. He's all grunts and swears, gone is his dirty talk. His hands are grabby, squeezing your thighs. He's so pussy whipped that he says

"Let me come inside you. Please. Need to.". The "yes, yes, daddy" is enough for him to do so and continue thrusting in you until he's soft. Joel rolls the chair forward, "manually zooming" his camera. His audience gets a pretty shot of his cum dripping out of you before the broadcast cuts out. He helps you up and draws a bath. If the camming paid for the clawfoot tub you saw, hell you'd join in more.

"You know, what we did was wrong. But it sure as hell felt right. I'm not saying we should do this daily. But maybe instead of both of us getting off on each other from afar, we can do it together." He asks, almost a schoolboy confession.

“Yes Joel, I wanna fuck you again too. Now shut and let me enjoy my life after taking your thick Texan beercan.”

[bunny-jpeg]

Your writing is so good! I hope this request is okay.

Could I please order some chocolate cake and shortbread squares please with some juice for Carlos sainz. Maybe friendly rivals. :))))

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of things to order from it! i really enjoy making these and i love what ya'll have prompted me! so thank you! and for this lovely anon i hope that you love this story!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + shortbread squares ("you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match.") + juice (cockwarming) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, (friendly) rivals, driver's room sex, semi-public sex, secret relationship, a lot of kissing

"you drive me crazy, mi amor." carlos said as he started to unzip his driving suit, your hands were on him in return. your lips were dangerously close together.

"please." you replied, "i don't think this is the hottest you've ran." you leaned in to seal the deal as he got the driving suit off of his shoulders. his lips tasted like heaven, he even used the lip balm that you suggested.

you and carlos were like thunder and lightning on the track. he had the speed while you had the power. and together you made quite the storm. some would call you rivals, but when it was the two of you alone in the driver's room long after everyone went home, you were more like lovers.

it was late into the evening, most had gone home. and you two were supposed to be in your respected motor homes for the night. but george and charles were doing you both favors while you two had some alone time in carlos' driver's room.

"i think he went out to dinner." charles shrugged when an assistant asked where carlos went.

and george's excuse was the tried and true method, "you know how she always walks for miles when she's on the phone with your mother." followed by a laugh. you owed both of these men so much.

the door to the driver's room was locked and you slowly got out of your driving clothes and could feel carlos' gaze on your body. you knew he loved the site of you, your curves that you had. you could easily drive him wild.

"don't look like a dog, sainz. have a little respect."

he shifted in his seat on the couch and palmed through his briefs. he licked his lips. he leaned a little bit and asked, "do you see that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

you watched him get his cock out of his briefs and relaxed further against the couch. his smile hung and you felt a stutter in your heart. you hated how he could read you inside out and backwards. damn, sainz. but yet you were enticed to come closer and eventually got onto his lap. the both of you near naked, at least your bottom halves were.

you even got yourself out of the printed socks you wore today. you were still in your sports bra while he was shirtless. you looked into his dark eyes and smiled at him, "see what happens when i think about you all day?" then smiled.

carlos palmed our breasts and pressed his face between them. he looked up at you with those doe eyes that could put deer to shame. he replied, "i can hear your heartbeat."

you combed your fingers through his hair as you rubbed your bare pussy against his cock. you swallowed, "i thought about you all day." you held his face and looked down at him, "i have to be honest. you make racing fun, my red rider." then with a little help you sank down onto his cock. your toes curled.

"shit."

"fuck."

"come here." you said as you pulled him in for anther heated kiss. you didn't ride him. due to the hour of the day (or rather night), you two could go slower. you could cockwarm him while your lips got familiar with his. you held his face once more and he wrapped his arms around you tightly. he gazed up at you almost with love and you smiled before you kissed once more.

you hated to admit it but, you liked cockwarming him. and if you could've been in the motor home together tonight without having to worry about being too loud for your teammates, you would've happily had the comfort of a shared bed.

at least there was the off-season. you had, without the prying eyes of the press, moved some of your belongings to his home. it was a spare lip gloss here, your spare retainer, there were a few more mercedes shirts in the closet. even a stuffed animal that carlos got you after you won your second gran prix (winning twice meant it wasn't a fluke).

"you feel good against me." he said with a smile.

"oh shut up, sainz." you arched your back a little bit as his cock nudged against one of your sweet spots and it made you feel hot all over.

he chuckled, warmth in his voice as he said, "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

you looked down at him and held onto his face a little tighter, "oh, i've seen your cock compared to some of the others. i think that maybe danny or max will suit me just fine." you moved your hips a little and watched carlos melt a little, "if i want something that doesn't bruise my cervix, maybe your teammate charles will a work.. or maybe my own teammate."

carlos made a face, "you better not be running off into george's arms. if you know what's good for you." then shuddered when you started to move a little more. he groaned against you. he knew that you'd have to cockwarm him again and sometime soon.

you two kissed while you continued to move against him. he held onto you tightly while you rode his cock. the kisses became messier the more you moved against him. it was hot and left a fire in your gut.

you both didn't last long, carlos' dirty words in your mouth as you rode him on the couch. he said to you, "next time. next time i'm keeping you on me all night. sleep together like that. i want to wake up and feel you." he said as he groped your breasts. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you reached your climax.

your toes curled once more as you panted heavily. you pulled him into another hot kiss. you whimpered into the kiss while he held onto you, meeting you staggered pace. he groaned into the kiss as he finished inside of you.

you both slowed down and you rested against him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. he kissed the side of your head with love. you held onto his shoulders and composed yourself.

"next time, sainz." you said as you patted his chest, "we're doing this all night. and it'll be after i beat you on the track." that rival streak was coming out of you as you gazed at him.

he chuckled and looked at you, "sure, mi amor. now why don't we get dressed before someone tries to find us. our lie can't work forever." then kissed up your chest.

"yeah, george and charles have done enough for us tonight." you knew you'd get an earful from your teammate, but at that moment when you watched carlos redress. it was worth it. <3

[12daysofchristmas]

Join us in the 2024 12 Days of Christmas Challenge as we hope to spread a little ✨holiday joy and cheer✨ through the magic of writing fanfiction & creating art!

About & Rules

The challenge will run from December 13-24, 2024.

The challenge is open to any and all fandoms.

Submissions must include at least one of the prompts for that day but can combine two, three, or all four.

Prompts for the day always include: a word/words, a scenario, a quote, a "famous" quote (taken from songs and movies)

Tag your submissions with #12daysofchristmas2024 and/or mention this blog so that we will be notified to reblog your submissions here. (Also, it would be super cool if you gave this blog a follow!)

Submissions for the day must be posted before midnight YOUR time. We're not super hard-and-fast about this rule, but posting within time is very much appreciated! 

If you’re posting your submission directly on Tumblr (as opposed to linking to an external site such as AO3), you MUST use a “keep reading” cut!

Edit: We're now also allowing ALL KINDS OF ART: drawings, edits, aesthetics, mood boards, videos, podfics, fiber arts... go wild!

!! Absolutely NO AI creations !!

Please format ALL submissions with the following heading:

Title Day/Prompt(s) Fandom/Character(s)/Ship Warnings (if applicable): Word Count/Medium (in case it's art):  Example: Santa, Baby Day 8 - “Prompt(s) for that day” AEW - Adam Page x OC Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, sexual situations (explicit) Word Count: 7,290 or: Medium: fan video

You can also include a summary, gif, edit, whatever you want! Just don’t forget the “keep reading” if you’re posting directly on Tumblr!

If you're posting on AO3, here's our collection: 12 Days of Christmas Collection

2024 Prompts

Day 1 ❄️ First snow ❄️ Getting soaked ❄️ “Your hands are so cold.” ❄️ “I suppose it all started with the snow.” —Frosty the Snowman

Day 2 ❄️ Little lie ❄️ Trapped together in a snowstorm ❄️ “I thought you knew where you were going?!” ❄️ “I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery.” —National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

Day 3 ❄️ Accelerated heartbeat ❄️ Kissing in the snow ❄️ “Here, take my coat.” ❄️ “Let's hope the snow will make this Christmas right.” —Queen

Day 4 ❄️ Mulled wine ❄️ Playing board games ❄️ “I have no regrets.” ❄️ “Cheer up, dude. It's Christmas.” —How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000

Day 5 ❄️ Cookies ❄️ Holiday-themed contest ❄️ “That definitely looks… interesting?” ❄️ “That is exactly why you want a high-quality fire extinguisher right in the kitchen.” —The Santa Clause

Day 6 ❄️ Present ❄️ Making a new Christmas tradition ❄️ “Not another Christmas movie!” ❄️ “You say you hate Washington’s birthday or Thanksgiving, and nobody cares, but you say you hate Christmas, and people treat you like you’re a leper.” —Gremlins

Day 7 ❄️ Decorations ❄️ A little accident ❄️ “I was just trying to help!” ❄️ “I want my house to be seen from space.” —Deck The Halls

Day 8 ❄️ Touch starved ❄️ Telling secrets around the fire ❄️ “Sometimes the hardest part is forgiving yourself.” ❄️ “Santa, can't you hear me?” —Ariana Grande & Kelly Clarkson

Day 9 ❄️ Christmas fair/market ❄️ Late shopping (together) ❄️ “Hmm, this is actually not bad.” ❄️ “When you're still waiting for the snow to fall, doesn't really feel like Christmas at all.” —Coldplay

Day 10 ❄️ Surprise visit ❄️ Lighting scented candles ❄️ “I didn’t know you were here.” ❄️ “You’re skipping Christmas! Isn’t that against the law?” —Christmas with the Kranks

Day 11 ❄️ Fairy lights ❄️ Christmas party/ball ❄️ “I never want this night to end.” ❄️ “I won’t even wish for snow. And I’m just gonna keep on waiting, underneath the mistletoe.” —Mariah Carey

Day 12 ❄️ Feast ❄️ Indoor picnic by the tree/fireplace ❄️ “I baked your favourite cookie/pie/cake.” ❄️ “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” —Sia

Extra Challenge

Angst or fluff, romance or platonic - you're unsure in what direction your fic should go? Spin our

Wheel

and let it decide for you! You can spin it once and write all fics with what comes up, you can spin it daily and change course accordingly, you can spin it as often as you need or not at all - it's all up to you.

Please don’t hesitate to contact us with any questions! Also, feel free to share this post and help spread the joy and cheer!

Happy writing, and good luck 🍀

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 5

previous chapter Warnings: again SMUT 18+ !!!!!! Hey cuties - this is my fave chapter so far enjoyyyy

You hadn’t properly seen Joel in a week.

Not since that near-disastrous moment on his couch, where you lay bare, your skin warm against his, and Uncle Ray almost caught you two in the act. The memory lingered like a spark refusing to die out, igniting every time you thought about him.

Joel had been swamped with work—construction jobs piling up—and you’d recently started at a cozy little coffee shop in town. The job suited you more than you expected. Your boss was kind, the tips were decent, and you got free iced lattes, which was reason enough to stick around.

The café itself was charming, all bathed in golden sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Dogs were welcome, often lounging at their owners’ feet or wagging tails at the smell of pastries. The constant aroma of freshly brewed coffee felt like a warm hug, soothing enough to make the hours slip by.

Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts had a pesky habit of wandering to Joel—what he was doing, if he was thinking about you, too.

A silly notion, you told yourself, but it clung to you nonetheless.

You’d catch fleeting glimpses of him here and there, as neighbors inevitably do.

Each moment was like a stolen treasure, a tiny lifeline. Lingering gazes across the lawn as he unloaded groceries from his truck, the flex of his strong arms as he lifted heavy bags. The way his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile when he caught your eye, making your chest tighten in a way you’d never admit out loud.

He was right next door, but somehow, it didn’t feel close enough.

🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️

Joel found himself constantly wondering about you.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself—but you’d snuck into his thoughts and set up camp there. It started innocently enough with a few texts, a casual way of checking in. But soon, it became a nightly ritual, one he couldn’t seem to let go of. Not that you wanted him to.

During meetings with Tommy, he’d find his attention slipping, his gaze drifting toward his phone, willing it to light up with your reply. Tommy would joke about Joel zoning out, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to care.

At night, when he was supposed to be winding down, he’d break his own rules about screen time—something about the blue light messing with sleep, a lecture he’d once given Sarah. But with you, he’d stay up later than he should, typing out messages he hoped would make you smile, waiting for the little dots that meant you were typing back.

On your end, it wasn’t much different. You’d catch yourself glancing at your phone during your shift, sneaking peeks whenever you thought no one was looking.

Every buzz, every time his name lit up your screen, sent a thrill through you, the corners of your mouth betraying you with a twitch upward.

It was funny, almost disarming, how Joel could shift so effortlessly between the quintessential dad—practical, steady, and full of quiet concern—and the man who made your heart race with just a few words.

Didn’t you say your iron was low? Eat something with spinach, alright?

How’s work? Hope they’re not runnin’ you ragged.

My back is killing me today. Feels like I’m older than I am. Gonna have to start using one of those canes soon.

And then, completely out of the blue:

Can’t stop thinking about you.

Those five words sent your stomach flipping in a way that left you grinning like a fool, coworkers sneaking curious glances your way. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, like he couldn’t help but check in on you.

Even in the middle of a hectic day or when his back ached from hours on-site, you’d managed to stake a claim on his thoughts. Somehow, you’d become his favorite distraction.

You thought back to your ex, and the stark difference hit you like a wave. You two had hardly texted—just the occasional logistics or a dry, obligatory reply. What time are you coming over? Don’t forget to grab milk. It was functional, transactional, like checking off items on a to-do list rather than nurturing something deeper.

He would go hours, sometimes days, without a word, and you’d told yourself it was normal, that he was just busy. But now, with Joel, you realized how much you had craved this—someone who cared enough to reach out, to ask how you were, to share the little things.

Joel didn’t need an excuse to text you. It had become second nature, these little windows into his life that he shared with you. Sometimes it was the simple stuff—a snapshot of his day, random musings, or just checking in to make sure you were okay.

Saw a dog today that looked like it wanted to fight me for my sandwich, he’d written once, and you’d laughed out loud, imagining his bemused expression, the corners of his mouth twitching in that way you’d come to love.

And then there was the way every day ended the same. You’d curl up in bed, your phone resting on the pillow beside you, waiting for that final message.

Goodnight, pretty girl.

🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️

It was Halloween, and you couldn’t quite believe it—how had it already been nearly two months since you’d moved here? Your life in Chicago felt like a distant memory, like a bad dream you’d finally woken up from. You thought back to Halloween in the city: your ex’s bougie friends hosting over-the-top parties where everyone tried too hard, and you’d always felt out of place, like a last-minute addition to a world you didn’t quite fit into.

Now, you stood outside Sarah’s door, the faint hum of music and laughter spilling out into the warm Texas evening. A case of drinks rested in your arms, its weight grounding you as Uncle Ray fussed with his costume beside you.

As usual, he’d gone all out, making you feel underdressed in comparison. This time, he was Beetlejuice, the black-and-white striped suit as loud and chaotic as his personality. His face was powdered ghostly pale, with exaggerated dark circles around his eyes, and the wild green-tinted wig sat slightly crooked on his head, no matter how much he fussed with it.

You couldn’t help but smile, remembering another Halloween from years ago when he’d gone just as over the top. That time, he’d been Edward Scissorhands—his shirt a perfect patchwork of leather straps and buckles, his face painted pale with dark shadows under his eyes that made him look both haunting and oddly endearing. He’d worn ridiculously oversized scissor gloves that clanked every time he moved, and he kept accidentally knocking into things, muttering under his breath about the impracticality of the costume.

He muttered under his breath now, adjusting his latest wig for the hundredth time, the same way he had back then. “It’s the wig that makes it, you know,” he grumbled, shooting you a mock-serious look.

You were dressed as predictably as every other girl on Halloween: an angel. A fitted corset hugged your torso, while the soft white skirt flowed delicately to your mid-thigh, catching the faint glow of the porch light. Glitter dusted your cheeks, shimmering faintly every time you moved, and the matching wings on your back fluttered slightly as you shifted the drinks in your arms. A delicate silver halo rested above your head, perched perfectly.

It was simple, classic—maybe even cliché—but it felt right.

Joel had texted you the night before, curious as ever.

Hey sweet girl, what're you dressing up as tomorrow?

Sweet girl. The words made your cheeks heat instantly, and you had to bite back a smile as your heart fluttered in your chest.

Nuh-uh, you’re gonna have to wait and find out, you typed back, already grinning at the thought of him sitting there, his brows furrowed in frustration in that way that always made your stomach flip.

You’re impossible, he replied, and you could practically hear the exasperation in his voice.

You can guess... you offered, biting your lip as you hit send, your anticipation growing.

There was a pause—a long one—and you could just picture him on the other end, thinking it over, his mind running through possibilities. Then, finally, his response appeared: Something sweet. You’re not the scary type. Bunny? Fairy?

You couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt, shaking your head as you typed back: You’ll just have to wait and see.

You can be a real tease, he sent, followed by a 👎, which only made you laugh harder.

The door flung open pulling you back from your daydream, and there was Sarah, leaning heavily against the frame with a wide, tipsy grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement as her eyes flicked between the two of you. “You guys look amazing!”

She was dressed as a pirate, of course—a cheeky, haphazardly sexy one at that. Her loose white blouse was cinched at the waist with a wide belt, her tattered black skirt swishing just above her knees. A red bandana was tied around her head, matching the sash draped over one shoulder. She had smudged dark eyeliner around her eyes, giving her the perfect roguish look, and a plastic sword dangled from her hip.

“Ray, that is insane! Beetlejuice? You look like you walked straight off the set!” Sarah exclaimed, swatting at his striped sleeve as she doubled over laughing.

Ray, never one to miss an opportunity to perform, gave an exaggerated bow. “Why, thank ya, thank ya!” he said, his voice gravelly as he mimicked Beetlejuice’s signature tone. “Show’s just gettin’ started, folks!”

Sarah laughed harder, wiping at her eyes before turning her attention to you. Her grin widened as she took in your costume, her eyes sparkling. “And you—” she said dramatically, grabbing your wrist to pull you closer, “are the sexiest angel I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” you replied, your cheeks heating despite yourself as her enthusiasm bubbled over.

She tugged you inside without hesitation, her laughter spilling into the warm glow of the party. Ray followed close behind, still in character, muttering something Beetlejuice-esque under his breath that had Sarah clutching her stomach, dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Your heart skipped a beat as Sarah handed you a drink, her pirate hat slipping askew as she leaned in to shout over the music. “Alright, let’s get this party started!” she yelled, raising her glass with a wide grin.

You laughed, raising yours in response, though your mind wasn’t quite on the celebration. Your eyes flickered around the room, scanning faces, colors, and costumes, searching for one thing in particular—or rather, one person.

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You stood by the kitchen, chatting idly with a few of Sarah’s friends. The conversation ebbed and flowed, laughter bubbling up every now and then, but your focus wasn’t entirely on the people around you. You couldn’t help but steal glances across the room as you took a sip of your drink, and it wasn’t long before your heart jolted at the sight of him.

Joel.

He stood by Uncle Ray, half-listening to something your uncle was saying, his hand resting on his belt as he laughed softly, another one wrapped around a beer.

He’d dressed as a cowboy. A sexy one at that.

A fitted plaid shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal tanned, corded forearms. A dark leather belt with a silver buckle sat low on his hips, the fabric of his jeans snug in a way that made your thoughts feel indecent.

And, of course, the finishing touch: a weathered cowboy hat tilted just enough to shadow his eyes, making him look like he’d just stepped out of an old western porno.

The dim lighting caught the stubble along his jaw, giving him an air of ruggedness that made your stomach tighten. He looked good—too good—and it wasn’t fair.

Then, as if he felt you watching him, he turned. His dark eyes found yours across the room, catching you so off-guard you nearly spilled your drink.

For a moment, he just stared, his gaze dragging over you in a slow, deliberate once-over.

His lips parted slightly, and he shook his head, almost like he was trying to clear his mind of whatever had just crossed it. Then he dipped his hat at you, a silent greeting that sent your pulse skittering.

You managed a small nod in return, your fingers tightening around your glass as if that could keep you tethered to the ground.

The person you’d been talking to excused themselves, mumbling something about the bathroom before slipping away. You were left alone in the kitchen, the dim amber light casting a soft glow over the countertops. The quiet hum of the party buzzed in the background as you picked at a bowl of chips, trying to distract yourself from how strong your drink was—or how your thoughts kept straying back to Joel.

Joel stepped closer, his familiar warmth and smell wrapping around you. The way he said “Howdy” sent a shiver down your spine, his voice warm and smooth, like a drawl dipped in honey. He was too close now, close enough that you were glad the kitchen was dim, hiding the flush creeping up your neck.

“Cowboy,” you said, your voice low and teasing. “Bit predictable, isn’t it?”

His lips curved into a smirk as he laughed softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and settling somewhere in yours. “And you,” he said, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long, “think a devil would’ve suited you better.” He tilted his head slightly, the movement slow and deliberate, like he was studying you, savoring every little reaction you gave him.

Your brows arched, playing along. “Why’s that?”

He leaned in, tapping the side of your temple lightly with his index finger. “These thoughts,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “ain’t exactly heavenly, are they?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your words barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckled again, his hand dropping back to rest on the kitchen counter, but the sound lingered in the space between you, filling the air with a warmth you wished you could memorize.

“Your uncle went all out,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Ray to come barreling through the door in full Beetlejuice regalia.

“I know,” you replied, laughing softly. “He’s actually scaring me a little.”

Joel laughed again, his head tilting back just enough for you to catch the faintest glimpse of his throat. The sound was intoxicating, deep and rich, and you found yourself wishing you could hear it on repeat.

He looked around the kitchen, his beer in one hand. The way his fingers curved around the neck of the bottle, the strength in them apparent even in this simple gesture.

Sarah and Ray were nowhere to be seen. The distant murmur of the party seemed to fade into the background as Joel turned back to you. His eyes darkened as they traveled down your body, lingering just a beat too long on the corset that cinched your waist.

The soft, white fabric hugged your curves perfectly, the delicate lace trim dipping low enough to tease, revealing just a tantalizing hint of cleavage in the dim light. His gaze roamed lower, catching on the sheer white stockings that clung to your thighs, held up by delicate lace garters that framed the bare expanse of skin just above them. The way his eyes lingered made your breath catch, the tension in the air crackling as you saw the faintest flicker of something dangerous in his expression—like he was trying, and failing, not to let his thoughts run wild.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the word rough and barely audible.

“What’s wrong, cowboy?” you asked, tilting your head as you stepped just a fraction closer, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Whose thoughts are impure now?”

He huffed, his jaw tightening as he set his beer down on the counter, the sound of glass meeting it sharp and deliberate. His fingers brushed against the surface with an almost irritated carelessness, his usual steadiness faltering under the weight of whatever storm was brewing in his mind.

Joel’s eyes flicked around the room once more, but when his gaze landed back on you, his resolve seemed to snap, quicker and sharper than you expected.

“Go upstairs,” he said, his voice low, commanding, each word dripping with a tension that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “My room. I’ll meet you there in five.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the heat pooling low in your stomach made it impossible to question him. You’d never seen Joel this assertive before, his calm, controlled demeanor giving way to something raw, something primal—and God, it did something to you.

Your heart skipped, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He didn’t wait for a reply, his eyes locked on yours for a moment longer before he stepped back, the space between you suddenly too vast and too charged all at once.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you wove through the crowd, barely noticing the laughter and music around you. The way he looked at you, like he was barely holding himself together, sent your pulse into a frenzy as you turned on shaky legs and headed for the stairs.

The heat of anticipation spread through your body, making it hard to breathe. Every step toward Joel’s room felt heavier, charged with the weight of what might happen.

When you finally reached it, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind you.

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It was the first time you had been in his room.

The room was simple, masculine, and undeniably him. The faint scent of cedarwood and something earthier—something distinctly Joel—lingered in the air. A neatly made bed dominated the space, the dark, plain sheets looking as if they’d been freshly smoothed that morning. A well-worn jacket hung over the back of a chair near the window, and a pair of scuffed boots rested by the corner, their placement almost methodical.

The light was soft, the dim glow of a single bedside lamp casting golden hues across the room. It illuminated the dresser, where your gaze landed on a photo—a younger Joel with Sarah, both of them smiling, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. The sight tugged at something deep in your chest, a quiet reminder of the man who’d let you in here, both in his space and maybe, just maybe, his life.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you felt the cool sheets beneath your hands, grounding you for a moment. Your nerves churned in your stomach, and you wished desperately that you’d finished your drink downstairs. Anything to take the edge off the racing thoughts in your mind.

Your halo felt awkward now, too on-the-nose. You reached up, pulling it off and setting it down on the bed beside you. For a moment, you considered taking off the wings too, but before you could decide, you heard the sound of footsteps.

As promised, exactly five minutes later, the door creaked open, and Joel stepped in. The sound of the lock clicking into place behind him sent a jolt through you. He stood there for a moment, the soft light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the brim of his cowboy hat throwing shadows over his dark, unreadable eyes. His presence filled the room, and all the air seemed to vanish at once.

“Angel,” he said softly, his voice low and heavy, as he turned to face you fully. "Up," he commanded, his voice firm yet impossibly soft, and before you could even process it, your body obeyed. You stood, heart racing, your knees feeling shaky under the weight of his gaze.

He sank down onto the edge of the bed where you had been sitting, his legs slightly parted as he leaned back, his movements unhurried but deliberate. His eyes raked over you, dark and smoldering, as he patted his lap. “C’mere.”

You moved toward him, stepping between his knees before settling on his lap. His hands immediately found your hips, guiding you to straddle him, the hem of your dress creeping up with the motion. The cool air kissed your exposed thighs, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. The stockings that hooked onto your garters were now entirely visible, and his gaze dropped, lingering for a moment before meeting yours again.

That was all it took for Joel to tilt his head and capture your mouth with his. The kiss was hungry, almost desperate, as though the tension between you had finally snapped, spilling over in waves of raw, unrestrained need. His lips moved feverishly against yours, claiming you in a way that made your knees weak. His hands, strong and sure, slid from your back to cup your ass, squeezing hungrily as he pulled you against him.

“You’re so sexy,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, as his large hands splayed against your lower back, pressing you flush against him. His words sent a thrill through you, the heat pooling low in your belly as you instinctively rolled your hips down against him. The pressure sent sparks skittering through your body, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

He tasted faintly of beer, a heady mix that made your head spin. The faint scruff on his jaw scraped deliciously against your skin, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound muffled but not unnoticed. His grip on you tightened in response, his fingers digging into your flesh as though he couldn’t get enough.

Your hands threaded through his hair, curling at the base of his neck where it was soft and slightly damp with sweat. His response was immediate—a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your lips. His hands fumbled with the wings on your back, his movements impatient as he tried to rid himself of the obstacle. They were nothing more than an afterthought now, discarded with a few rough tugs onto the floor.

The space between you dissolved completely as he pulled you closer still, your bodies flush. His kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your head tilt back, giving him the perfect angle to devour you further. Every touch, every movement, felt like fire, consuming you both in the quiet heat of the moment, leaving nothing untouched by its flame.

Your mind clouded with the heat of it all, and before you even realized what you were doing, you began to shift off his lap, your knees brushing the floor as you intended to sink down. But Joel’s hands caught your wrists, stopping you.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, his voice rough but teasing. “Wanna try somethin first’.”

Your breath hitched as you stood, his hands steadying you as he knelt slightly to unhook your underwear. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost reverent, but purposeful enough to make your head spin. The soft white lace slipped down your legs, pooling at your feet before you stepped out of them. You were so lost in the moment, in the heat of his touch, that you didn’t notice the way he curled the delicate fabric in his hand and tucked it under the edge of the bed, as if he were keeping it for later.

Then, with surprising ease, he adjusted you, positioning you so that your legs straddled one of his thighs. Your bare skin hovered just above the rough, worn denim of his jeans, and your hands instinctively found their place against his chest to steady yourself. His warmth seeped into you, even through the fabric, and the closeness made it impossible to think straight.

“Joel?” you questioned, your voice breathless and unsure, but his name on your lips felt electric.

“Trust me,” he said softly, his hands resting on your hips. His thumbs brushed against your skin in slow, soothing circles. “Take what you need.”

“What?” you breathed, your voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, your cheeks already burning.

“Come on,” Joel murmured, his hands firm on your hips as he lifted his thigh slightly. The motion pressed the rough fabric of his jeans against your swollen clit, the sudden pressure making you gasp. Your body jerked forward, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance, and you were suddenly, achingly aware of just how close you were to him.

“I’ve never…” you started, your voice trembling, but the words trailed off.

Joel tilted his head, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as his dark eyes stayed locked on yours. “Never ridden a man’s thigh before?” he murmured, his voice warm and patient, laced with just enough affection to make your cheeks flush.

You shook your head slightly, your breath catching as his words settled over you.

“That’s alright,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your sides in a slow, soothing motion, his thumbs brushing over your ribs before settling firmly on your hips.

His touch was steady, grounding, as if to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere. “I got ya,” he added, his voice soft but commanding, the promise in his tone wrapping around you like a tether.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears. But the way he looked at you—steady, reassuring, full of something that felt like trust—made you nod, eager to please him.

His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to vibrate in your chest. “Go ahead, baby,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent.

Slowly, you began to move your hips, rocking back and forth against his thigh. The friction was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the roughness of his jeans against your bare cunt, igniting sparks that spread through your body with every motion.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as you found a rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. Joel’s hands guided you, his grip firm but gentle, encouraging as you moved.

“There ya go,” he cooed, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was low and molten, making your skin prickle. “Feel good?” he asked, his breath warm and teasing.

You nodded quickly, your movements becoming more confident as you chased the building heat inside you. “Y-yeah,” you managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours, dark and full of something primal. “That’s my girl.”

You kept moving your hips, faster now, the desperation building with every roll of your body against Joel’s thigh. The friction was maddening, deliciously unbearable, sending sparks shooting through your body with every movement.

Your breath came faster, harder, the small room filling with the sound of your panting, the creak of the bed beneath you, and the faint rustle of denim against your skin. The bass of the party thumped faintly in the background, a distant reminder of the world outside this charged, intimate moment.

Joel caught the change in your rhythm, the way your body trembled as you edged closer to the peak. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as he began lifting his thigh to meet your movements. The added pressure made you whimper, your head falling forward as your hands clutched at his shoulders.

“Is my sweet girl getting close?” he cooed, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Look so desperate for me.”

His words hit you like a spark to dry tinder, igniting the heat already pooling low in your belly. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as your rhythm faltered for just a moment. You nodded quickly, unable to form words, the intensity of his attention making your chest tighten.

You glanced down, unable to help yourself, and gasped at what you saw. The dark denim beneath you was damp, a growing wetness marking the spot where your body met his jeans. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but before you could say anything, Joel’s deep voice cut through your haze.

“Making a fuckin’ mess,” he murmured, his words rough and laced with desire as he watched you. His eyes flicked back to yours, dark and heavy-lidded, and the sight of his gaze alone sent you spiraling.

His thigh bounced slightly beneath you, the movement sending a wave of sensation that pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, every nerve alight as you grabbed at his hair, clutching desperately as your release crashed through you. “Take it, darlin’,” he said again, his tone softer now, almost reverent. “It’s all yours.”

“Joel!” you yelled, his name tearing from your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, raw and unrelenting.

He held you through it, his hands steadying your trembling form, his thigh still pressed against you as your body shuddered with aftershocks. The low hum of his voice reached your ears, soft and soothing as he murmured something you couldn’t quite make out, lost in the haze of your bliss.

"Good girl," Joel murmured, his voice rough and full of praise as his fingers dipped into your heat, drawing a gasp from your lips. He lifted them to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you. His tongue swept over his fingers slowly, deliberately, and he hummed low in his throat.

“So sweet,” he said, his voice husky, the words making your already trembling legs feel like jelly.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice still hazy and breathless, the sound of his name barely more than a plea.

He smiled, a slow, crooked grin that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. But this time, when you shifted, sliding off his lap and onto your knees, he didn’t stop you. His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he realized your intent.

You knelt before him, your hands sliding up his thighs as you looked up, meeting his heated gaze. You wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel, to see him come undone the way you just had.

“Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice low and strained as his hands came to rest on your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice steady now despite the trembling in your hands. Your eyes stayed locked on his as your fingers went to work, determined to show him just how much you wanted to please him.

You worked quickly, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt. Joel lifted his hips without a word, giving you the space to pull the rough material down his legs until it pooled around his ankles. The sound of the zipper, the rustle of denim—it was all so raw, so intimate, and it sent a thrill through you.

Settling between his thighs, you shifted, finding a position that gave you enough room. The hard wood beneath your knees burned slightly, the sensation grounding you amidst the haze of arousal.

Your hands rested on his thighs for a moment, feeling the heat of his skin through the faint shadow of his boxers. Joel watched you intently, his chest rising and falling as his breath grew heavier, his hands twitching at his sides as though he were fighting the urge to reach out and touch you.

You hesitated only briefly before curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, your eyes flicking up to meet his for silent confirmation. His nod was small, but the intensity in his gaze said everything you needed to know. Slowly, you eased the fabric down, freeing him completely, and the sight of him made your breath hitch.

You couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening slightly as you took him in. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and for a moment, a flicker of nervousness passed through you. You’d never been with someone so big before, and the thought sent a rush of anticipation mixed with a twinge of doubt through your veins.

But it was delicious, the way his length stood, proud and imposing, the sight of the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. The rawness of it, the sheer intimacy of seeing him like this, sent a shiver through you. It was overwhelming, yes, but also intoxicating in a way you hadn’t anticipated, stirring a deep, primal need you couldn’t ignore.

“My angel,” he murmured, his tone soft yet filled with something that made your chest ache. He lifted one hand, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek, grounding you in the moment. The contrast of his touch—so gentle despite the intensity of his presence—sent a warm shiver through you.

You wrapped your hand around him, the warmth of him in your palm making your breath hitch. Slowly, deliberately, you began to move, your strokes measured as you pumped him in your hand.

You wanted to savor this moment, to memorize the way he looked—the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted into a soft, breathless "O" as his head tipped back.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw tightening as your movements continued. The muscles in his thighs tensed beneath your touch, and you felt a surge of pride at the way he was already unraveling for you.

Encouraged, you worked faster, your grip tightening just enough to pull a low, guttural sound from his throat. “Shit, darlin’,” he stuttered, his voice hoarse and heavy, the drawl thickened by the haze of pleasure. His hands gripped the bed, knuckles white as he fought to keep himself steady.

The sound of his voice, the raw need in it, sent a rush of heat through you and you grew yourself growing wetter, if that were even possible. You leaned closer, your lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just above where your hands worked. You wanted to drive him to the edge, to see him lose himself completely under your touch.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his tip, your lips grazing his heated skin. Your tongue darted out, painting slow, deliberate stripes up and down his side, tasting him, teasing him, while your hands continued their steady rhythm. Joel let out a sharp breath, a low growl escaping him that made your stomach tighten.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers through you. His eyes opened briefly, dark and hooded as they fixed on you. “So fuckin’ pretty on your knees for me,” he panted, his voice ragged and uneven, each word laced with desire.

The words made you hum against him, the sound vibrating softly against his skin. His reaction was immediate—a curse slipping from his lips as his head tilted back again, exposing the strong line of his throat.

The sight made your movements bolder, more confident, as you worked him with your hands and tongue, coaxing more of those delicious sounds from him.

Joel reached up with one hand, his fingers gripping the brim of his hat. He pulled it off and, with deliberate care, placed it on your head, the action so intimate it sent a flush of heat spreading through your chest.

“Keep goin’,” he muttered, his voice rough, his free hand sliding to the back of your head. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, holding you in place, not forceful, but guiding, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you stopping.

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his as you continued, your lips and hands working in perfect tandem. His gaze burned into yours, his chest heaving with every shaky breath. “That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Just like that.”

You could tell he was close—the way his hips began to stutter, thrusting upwards into your mouth in shallow, needy motions. His breathing turned ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened, not painfully, but enough to let you know he was barely holding on.

The sounds he made, low groans and curses, were a symphony of pleasure that sent heat pooling in your belly.

It was almost too much—the fullness, the way he moved, the way he tasted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t stop, determined to see him through. You hollowed your cheeks, working him deeper, and his response was immediate.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that made your heart race. His head tipped back, and his thighs tensed beneath your hands as he asked, his words almost slurred, “Where does my pretty girl want me?”

You managed to speak around him, your answer muffled but clear enough, “My mouth.”

The way it came out, slightly garbled but eager, made him laugh, a breathless, strained sound that sent a thrill through you. “My dirty girl,” he murmured, his tone almost affectionate.

With one final thrust, he tipped over the edge, his body going taut as he finished, his hips pressing upwards one last time. You took him as best as you could, the salty sensation overwhelming but not unwelcome. His hand stayed in your hair, steadying you as he groaned your name, his voice filled with raw pleasure.

You pulled away slowly, swallowing as you did, the warmth of him still lingering on your tongue. A thin string of saliva connected you to him, glistening in the dim light, lewd and intimate. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your knees aching from the unforgiving floor, but the satisfaction in Joel’s eyes made it all worth it.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes stayed on you for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable, before he reached down to pull his jeans back up, fastening them with practiced ease. The sight of him—still slightly undone but regaining his composure—sent a flush of heat through you all over again.

Joel adjusted his belt, the faint clink of the buckle breaking the quiet as he glanced down at you. His eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth quirked into something that carried a warmth that made your heart stutter.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked, his voice lower now, touched with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His gaze lingered on you, affectionate and unguarded, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you in this moment.

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you sat back on your heels, the weight of the moment settling over you. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice hoarse but steady.

Joel reached down, offering you his hand, and the warmth of his touch as he helped you to your feet sent a fresh wave of tingles up your spine.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, the words barely above a whisper, but they landed with the weight of something profound. His voice was warm, filled with a quiet affection that made your chest ache in the best way.

You didn’t know how much truth those words held—how much you could dare to believe in them—but you needed them. You needed him. You loved the way they sounded coming from his mouth, the way he claimed you with such easy confidence, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You loved being his, even if you didn’t quite know what being his meant.

Joel helped you to your feet, his strong hands steadying you as you wobbled slightly, your knees still shaky. You found yourself standing between his thighs, his hands settling instinctively on your hips. His gaze traveled up to meet yours, soft and searching, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“Was that alright?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost unsure.

He looked at you like you’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “You’re jokin’, right?” His lips curved into a lazy grin as his fingers traced small, comforting circles over your hips.

“Got the most perfect mouth on ya, darlin’,” Joel murmured, his voice low and gravelly, thick with lingering satisfaction. His words made your cheeks flush, a warm, pink hue spreading across your skin as you looked away for a moment, embarrassed by the compliment.

Joel’s gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you. He couldn’t help but marvel at how someone who had just undone him so completely—so filthily—could still look so innocent, so sweetly flustered. It was a contradiction that sent a deep, simmering warmth through him, making him feel both protective and utterly captivated.

He reached out, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek, his touch light and almost reverent. His eyes flicked up, catching sight of the cowboy hat still perched on your head, and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“What?” you asked, frowning slightly at his sudden amusement.

“Mixin’ costumes now,” he teased, gesturing at the angelic white of your outfit beneath his hat.

You laughed, reaching up to take it off, but his hand shot out, stopping you. “Wait,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Wanna remember this.”

“Joel,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing all over again.

“Smile,” he said, ignoring your protest as he angled the phone at you. The flash went off, capturing the moment in an intimate snapshot.

You could only imagine what you looked like—wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, your lips still red and slightly swollen, with his cowboy hat askew on your head.

Somehow, despite everything, you looked angelic. Maybe even innocent.

You sighed but smiled softly as he lowered the phone. “Show me,” you murmured, stepping closer to him. You eased onto his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck as you leaned in to peek at the screen.

He tilted the phone so you could see, his voice low and filled with quiet reverence as he said, “You’re perfect.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, your heart stumbling over the weight of his words. “I’m not,” you huffed softly, your cheeks burning as you burrowed your face into the crook of his neck, seeking solace in the warmth of him.

His scent surrounded you—earthy, faintly musky —and you couldn’t help but think about how you’d stay there forever if you could.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute as you felt him shake his head. His hand rested against your back, steady and reassuring. “Not fightin’ you on this, honey. You’re perfect.”

Before you could argue, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and tender, sending a shiver through you. The warmth of it lingered long after his lips left your skin, a quiet promise that echoed in the quiet room, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Joel didn’t need to say anything else—his touch, his tone, the way he held you—it all said enough.

“Take a selfie,” you said suddenly, grinning as the idea popped into your head.

“A what?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

“How old are you?” you teased, laughing softly.

Realization dawned on his face, and he chuckled. “Oh, the one where it’s of us.”

“Yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he turned the camera toward the two of you. “Alright, alright” he murmured, his tone playful but warm. You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek just as he snapped the photo.

The photo was simple but intimate: your lips pressed softly against his cheek, your smile warm and genuine, while his own smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. But it was his eyes that stood out most—softened in a way he didn’t even know he was capable of, like you’d reached some part of him he hadn’t let anyone else touch in years.

For a moment, Joel stared at the image on the screen, his thumb brushing over the edge of his phone as though it could capture more than just the pixels on display.

He thought about how, in another lifetime, he’d make it his wallpaper. How he’d keep this version of you—happy, radiant, his—on his phone, a constant reminder of a moment he never wanted to forget.

But that was a thought he’d keep to himself, tucked away somewhere deep and quiet, too fragile to speak aloud - yet.

“Cute,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, almost shy.

“Very,” he replied, his voice low and warm.

Before either of you could say anything more, a notification popped up on his screen: a text from Sarah.

DAD WHERE ARE YOUUUU? NEED MORE DRINKS?!?!? HELLOOOO.

Joel groaned, letting his head fall back for a moment before sighing. “We better get goin’,” he said reluctantly.

Neither of you moved right away, though, both wishing you could stay in the quiet sanctuary of his room forever, wrapped in the intimacy that had settled between you.

Eventually, Joel shifted, his hands brushing against your hips as he helped you stand, the spell breaking just slightly as the sounds of the party filtered back into your awareness.

“C’mon,” Joel said, his voice softer now, a reluctant sigh slipping from his lips. “Let’s not keep her waitin’.”

You started to follow him, but a sudden thought froze you in place, the sensation of feeling bare dawning on you all at once. “Wait,” you said quickly, your voice a hushed whisper. “My underwear.”

Joel paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk so devilish it sent heat rushing to your cheeks. “What about it?” he asked, his tone far too casual for your liking.

“You know what,” you hissed, your eyes narrowing at him.

He shrugged, his smirk deepening as he leaned slightly on the banister, unbothered by your flustered expression. “Consider it… a keepsake,” he drawled, his voice laced with teasing amusement.

“Joel,” you whispered harshly, your tone a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said with a wink, turning to head down the stairs. “It’s in safe hands.”

“You asshole,” you muttered under your breath, glaring after him as he disappeared into the noise of the party below. But despite your annoyance, you couldn’t stop the way your lips twitched into a small, begrudging smile.

He had that effect on you, damn him.

🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️

“Where’d you go?” Sarah asked, her words slurred as she swayed slightly, her pirate hat tilting precariously. She blinked up at you, a lopsided grin on her face.

“I, uh, had to use the bathroom,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual as you held onto your drink like a lifeline.

“Oh, okay,” she said, nodding as if that explained everything. Then her brow furrowed slightly, her gaze sharpening—well, as much as it could in her drunken state. “You’re having fun, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “A lot of fun.”

She grinned again, satisfied, but then her eyes roved over you, her face twisting in confusion. “Wait... where’s your halo?”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, your hand flew up to your head, panicked, expecting to feel the brim of Joel’s cowboy hat still sitting there. If it was, what would you even say? But when your fingers brushed through your hair and found nothing, relief washed over you like a wave.

Joel had taken it back—thank God. He’d slipped it off your head before the two of you came back downstairs, a quiet, subtle move that now felt like a lifesaver. The thought of Sarah seeing you walk into the party with his hat still perched on your head was mortifying.

“Oh,” you said, exhaling shakily as you quickly composed yourself. “Must’ve lost it somewhere. It’s probably around here.”

Sarah tilted her head, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness as she considered something before breaking into a giggle. “Guess you’re not so angelic anymore, huh?”

You forced a smile, but her words landed heavier than she could’ve known. If only she knew. The guilt gnawed at you, sharp and undeniable. What you were doing was wrong, and there was no point in sugarcoating it. Sarah was a damn good friend, one of the best, and you had no right…

Your thoughts were cut short when Sarah’s gaze shifted, her expression brightening as Joel reappeared from the garage fridge, a couple of extra drinks in hand. Your eyes followed hers instinctively, heart doing that familiar, traitorous flutter at the sight of him.

“Hey!” Sarah called out to you, her voice a little too loud, her words slightly slurred from the margaritas she’d been nursing all night. She nudged your arm for emphasis, her grin wide as she turned back to you. “I think Dad is seeing someone!”

Your heart stopped. Completely froze in your chest as her words hung in the air.

“What? What do you mean?” you stammered, your voice uneven, betraying your attempt to sound casual.

Sarah waved a hand dramatically, leaning closer with the loose confidence of someone who’d had a few drinks too many. “I mean,” she said, dragging the words out, “I haven’t seen that man this happy in SO long. He’s like… humming in the shower.” She giggled at the absurdity of it, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like, who does that?”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks already burning. “Oh,” you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper, trying desperately to will away the blush creeping up your face.

“And!” Sarah continued, clearly on a roll now, completely unaware of the panic clawing at you. “I’ll come downstairs at night, and he’s on the couch smiling at his phone. Like, full-on grinning. Who is this man? And who is he texting?!”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to laugh lightly, brushing it off even as your chest tightened. “Weird,” you murmured, hoping she couldn’t hear the breathlessness in your voice. But the way Sarah grinned at you, so blissfully unaware, only made the guilt dig deeper.

You made a mental note to text Joel the second you got a moment alone: Hide the halo. The last thing you needed was for Sarah—or anyone else—to stumble into his room and find it.

🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️

When you got home and finished showering, the warmth of the water washing away the lingering scents of the night, you slipped into bed feeling both exhausted and electric. The room was quiet, the hum of the party now a distant memory, but your mind refused to settle.

You replayed the events of the evening in vivid detail. Each time you thought of Joel, your cheeks flushed, your stomach fluttered with that warm, dizzying sensation you couldn’t shake.

It was impossible not to wonder if he felt the same—if the way he looked at you, touched you, spoke to you, was as real for him as it was for you.

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow, willing the thoughts to quiet enough to let you sleep. But just as you began to drift, your phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sound startled you, and your heart pounded as you reached for it, the faint glow of the screen illuminating the dark room.

It was a text from Joel.

You unlocked it with shaky fingers, and there it was—the selfie you’d taken together. Your lips were pressed to his cheek, his smirk lazy and crooked, his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache. Beneath the photo was a simple caption:

“Sleep well angel.”

🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️

Tag list: @bbyanarchist @spoonflix @pedritospunk @ickearmn @nrreads @76bookworm76 @pastelpinkflowerlife @shantellorraine @spooky-sculder @merm4id5lut @brittmb115 @rosebuds-and-moonlight @joelscowgirl @spacemamax @locked-ness @bensonispunk @pal3rmo @mystickittytaco @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @rh1nestonecowg1rl @littlenicpascal @jsudsgf @addictedtothisyoungman @denisanoemi @l3zx1v @justsarahbella

[ihops-golden-closet]

How To Care For A Bunny 101

Pairing: Jungkook x Bunny Hybrid Reader, mentions of Dog Hybrid Jimin x Bunny Hybrid Reader

Genre: Domestic, Smut, Fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of the past, a little bit of sliding timelines

Rating: 18+

Summary: You were head over heels for your owner but you always buried your feelings in fear of damaging your relationship with Jungkook. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was also in the exact same predicament. After you experience your heat for the first time, Jungkook decides it's finally time for him to come clean.

Author's Note: Hello! This is the first piece of work that I am uploading to this site. I hope I don't scare anyone off of here. A bit of a warning but there is a bit of a sliding timeline here. If this gets confusing, I would appreciate the feedback. If you liked this story, please leave a like and give my blog a follow! I would really appreciate it!

Italics=Past

Clutching the stuffed animal closer to your body, you watched as the alarm clock struck midnight. It’s been over an hour since the tattoo shop that your owner works at was supposed to close but Jungkook has yet to arrive home. The stuffed toy, which you affectionately named Cooky, was a birthday gift your owner had gotten you. In times when you feel lonely, such as this one, Cooky provides some comfort but you would rather be cuddled up in Jungkook’s arms as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle singing.  

It didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels for Jungkook after you started living with him. How could you not? Jungkook was everything a girl could want. He was sweet, had the voice of an angel, attractive (although you always felt too shy to tell him that), and cherished every moment he spent with you among other things. Most importantly, he cared for you, a feeling you were robbed of growing up in that wretched hybrid care center you used to call home.

You don’t think of your past home as much as you used to. Preferring the memories you make now with your loving owner than the lonely ones back at your old home. It was at this bunny hybrid care center that you could recall your earliest memories. It was there where you were raised by the facility’s caretakers and received your education, making a few casual friends along the way. As kind as some of your caretakers were, you never grew as close to any, at least not in the way you did with Jungkook. They often never stayed long to form that kind of connection anyway. It wasn’t the best place for a child, the facility not receiving as much funding as it should to properly care for its residents. You often felt alone. You had some friends but for the most part, you missed out on forming deep and meaningful bonds. 

You didn’t get adopted as a kid. Most families preferred to adopt hybrids when they were still very young. But you aged out of the preferred age bracket and eventually came to the realization that finding another home might as well be impossible. Hybrids who chose to stay could work for the center in exchange for basic housing and money (albeit a poor wage). With nowhere else to go, you really had no other option. 

That was up until Jungkook came into your life.

It was never Jungkook’s intention to adopt a hybrid. He had only come to your residence to accompany his friend Eunwoo. Eunwoo already had his own hybrid at home but wanted to adopt another one as a companion. It was on that day that Jungkook met you for the first time. 

He first came across you doodling on your sketchbook at the care center’s living room area. You were curled up in a huge chair besides the room’s massive window. He even remembered exactly what you wore that day because of how cute he thought you looked. A fluffy oversized sweater and some fuzzy socks. You were so focused on your work that you took no notice of the buzz around you.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”, Eunwoo quipped from behind Jungkook, snapping the other out of his staring daze.

“Y-yeah, she is”, Jungkook choked, feeling sheepish at being caught, “have you seen her yet?”

“No, but I’d like to get to know her”, Eunwoo shrugged, “maybe she’d be a good match for my Hana.”

After asking around a bit, Eunwoo was able to land a meet session with you that same day. He just wanted to get to know you better, see if you’d be a good match for his own hybrid at home. Being that Jungkook was already there, he stuck around for the meeting. Although if he was being honest, he was curious about you too.

-

“I like your body art.”

“Body art?”, Jungkook asked, “you mean my tattoos?”

“Oh I meant tattoos! Sorry! ”, you quickly apologized, embarrassed at your own mistake. You have seen tattoos before in magazines and in movies but didn’t know what to call them. 

“No worries, I knew what you meant”, Jungkook laughed, “wanna see them?”

“Sure!”

Jungkook giggled at your enthusiasm before removing his jacket. You blushed at the sight of his well defined biceps decorated with numerous tattoos. His body itself was it’s own work of art. The next couple of minutes were spent with you gushing over how cool Jungkook’s tattoos looked, curious to find out the meaning and detail behind every one of them. Jungkook doesn’t think he has ever met anyone as excited about tattoos as you were, especially with how innocent he thought you looked. 

Although the session was meant for Eunwoo to get to know you better, he ended up basically being third wheeled for the remainder of the enthusiastic exchange between the two of you. It didn’t bother him however, it was pretty amusing watching his friend of over a decade turn into a pile of putty in front him. 

-

“She seems smitten with you”, Eunwoo commented over his steaming cup of coffee. 

After the session was over, Eunwoo had let the staff know that he needed more time to think it over before adopting you. Both he and Jungkook deciding to stop at a cafe close by after the ordeal.

“What do you mean?”, Jungkook replied over his own iced americano. 

Eunwoo shrugged before taking a sip of his own drink, “have you ever thought about adopting a hybrid?”

“No.” 

It was true, it had never really crossed Jungkook’s mind before. He knows of people who have, and from his perspective, it seems like a huge hassle. There are specific diets, expensive medical visits, the dreaded heat spells, and who knows how many more complications out there.

“Well if you ever change your mind, I know a cute one.”

-

Being a new and relatively inexperienced owner, Jungkook missed all red flags of your impending first heat. You were extra affectionate and clingy. Not that it bothered him at all. He loved basking in the extra attention and affection you provided, chalking it up to you simply missing him due to the heavy work schedule he had that week. 

Then it was the restlessness. Just before he left for work or to run errands in the morning, he would stop by your room to check up on you only you find you still awake from the night before with red eyes and a tired face. The lack of sleep was an immediate cause of concern in his eyes. He thought it warranted a doctor’s visit but you insisted that it was nothing to worry about and it was all caused by you staying up late to play games on your computer. His instincts told him it was something else but he took your word for it anyway and decided to wait and see if your sleep improved.

He finally dragged you to see the doctor after your restlessness only worsened and you started to complain of hot flashes. You tried to brush that off with different excuses as well but nothing you said this time was going to stop this doctor’s visit from happening.

-

“She’s experiencing her first heat.”

Jungkook nearly chocked on his own salvia upon hearing those words come out the doctor so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since Jungkook described your symptoms to the middle aged woman before she already had a diagnosis.

“Are you sure? I mean, the symptoms are kind of broad, could it not be an indiction of something else?”

“I’m positive”, she left out a laugh and adjusted her glasses, “I see it all the time. Besides, she’s due for one. I’d be more concerned if she hadn’t experience her heat yet.”

Jungkook chewed his lip. He had researched your symptoms on his own and found that your symptoms marked all the signs of a hybrid heat but he had just wanted to make sure. He felt his heart drop as he remembered all the posts recommending hybrids go through their heats with other hybrids. 

“I see…she’s going to need a hybrid partner, right?”

“Ideally, yes. However, any partner will do so long as she has her needs met. Whether you decide to find her a hybrid partner or assist her yourself is going to be something for you and her to decide.”

As much as he despised the idea of another man touching you, Jungkook knew that he had to set his feelings aside and do what’s best for you. He didn’t want to take advantage of your instincts.

He knew of another hybrid like you who could help you through your heat. Jimin, a dog hybrid, was his coworker and one of his closest friends. Many businesses actively discriminate against hybrids and typically don’t hire them but Seokjin had known Jimin for a while and knew it’d be silly to pass out on a valuable employee because he happened to have ears and a fluffy tail. Most customers loved Jimin anyway because of his charm and skills, few ever turned him away for his hybrid status. 

He feels uneasy at the prospect of asking Jimin if he would be willing to help you with such an intimate activity but he knew he could trust Jimin. Sex between hybrids is almost always done for instinctual needs and intimacy isn’t an aspect typically involved but Jungkook can’t help but feel his stomach churn at the thought.

-

“I’ll do it.”

Jungkook felt his heart drop a bit. Theoretically, he should be thankful that Jimin didn’t outright turn on him or even worse, cut all contact with him then and there. But still, part of him had hoped for a little more resistance from the hybrid.

“A-are you sure?”, Jungkook hopes Jimin doesn’t catch on to the reluctance in his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? I know how much of a pain heats are, especially when you don’t have a partner to help you out. She’s really lucky to have an owner like you who looks out for these kinds of things Kook.”

-

Jungkook didn’t speak to Jimin for a couple of days after that night. He knew it was a wrong and shitty thing to do but he couldn’t stomach any sort of interaction with him. Every time he looked at Jimin, the image of you beneath him crossed his mind and it haunted him. It’s not like he was mad or upset with Jimin. Jungkook was the one who had asked him for his help after all. He just needs some time to forget the whole thing. As much as Jungkook tried to not show how bothered he was by the whole ordeal, the others quickly caught on to the change in his character. He didn’t joke around or engage with the others as much as he used to.

After the tension between them became too unbearable for Jimin to handle, Jimin decided to finally confront Jungkook privately. He wanted to catch Jungkook at closing hour as soon as the others left but he’s not too sure how that’s going to work out considering Jungkook is almost always the first to leave these days. Jimin knows that was surely in an effort to avoid him since Jimin had to almost drag Jungkook out of the parlor after closing before. Fortunately for him, Jungkook had forgotten a few of his belongings back in the parlor so he had no choice but to come back and retrieve them.  

Jimin was just about done sweeping up the place when he heard the unlocking of the parlor’s door. There stood Jungkook, who looked like a deer caught under headlights as soon as he met Jimin’s stare.

“H-hey”, Jungkook could feel his hands start to get clammy as soon as he realized he was alone with Jimin, “I just realized I left some of my stuff here so I came back to pick them up.”

“Oh yea, no problem. I left them on the counter in the back”, Jimin quipped. Despite not confronting him yet, Jimin already started to feel awkward.

Jungkook bolted for the door as soon as he had grabbed all his things. He was only a few steps away from the exit when Jimin made his move.

“Jungkook, wait.”

Shit.

“Yes hyung?”, Jungkook had inched towards the door, resting his hand on the handle but he had turned around to reply to Jimin anyways.

“We should talk.”

Despite trying to avoid the situation altogether, Jungkook knew this would inevitably happen. It was difficult for him to completely hide the change in his character altogether. Jimin was also a sensitive guy by nature, he knew Jimin could feel the tension in the room become impalpable when they were together. 

Jungkook let out an awkward cough before speaking, “sure, what’s on your mind?”

He could have replied that he had somewhere to be and spared himself from the conversation at hand but he already felt like a piece of shit for avoiding Jimin. This was the least he could do.

Jimin sighed. How does one even start a conversation like this?

“Well…to be honest, I just feel like something’s changed between us”, Jimin let the words flow out, it’s too late to go back now, “I don’t if you been trying to avoid me lately but that’s the impression I’m getting. I just wanted to know…if I did something wrong or something?"

“N-no”, Jungkook suddenly felt extremely guilty, “of course not hyung. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin knew Jungkook was still hiding something, so he pressed further, “but something’s definitely bothering you Kook, I can tell. You know you could always tell me right? I won’t be hurt or offended.”

Jungkook sighed, he going to have to come clean for Jimin’s sake, “it’s not you hyung. Really. It’s me.”

Setting his stuff down, Jungkook decided to tell finally tell someone what was on his mind.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that…after that night between you and Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jungkook started trailing off again, he wanted to Jimin his true feelings but the words just keep getting lodged in his throat. Jimin was relieved to hear that he didn’t fuck up his and Jungkook’s relationship but it still bothered him to see Jungkook look so down. He’s been close friends with Jungkook for so long now that Jungkook is practically like a little brother to him. Even if Jimin isn’t the reason for change in Jungkook’s character, he’s still going to help him in any way he can.

“What do you mean? Is Y/N still in pain?”

“No”, Jungkook quickly interjected, “she’s ok now, what I’m trying to say is that this is more about me than it is her.”

Jimin thinks be beginning to understand now. 

“I love her hyung and not in a way that an owner should be with their hybrid,” Jungkook felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he began to pour out the feelings he had bottled up inside for so long, “you did nothing wrong. I’m not mad at you or anything. I just feel… hurt and jealous about the whole thing. I know it’s a shitty thing to be feeling that way but everytime I’m with you…all I can think about is you and Y/N, well y’know.”

Oh. Jimin had a small hunch about what was really going on but he never thought that Jungkook would actually come to him and confirm it. Jimin felt like shit. He was just now starting to understand just how deep Jungkook’s feelings for you ran and he had jumped in and ruined it. Jimin felt as if he had betrayed his own brother.

“Jungkook, you have to tell Y/N.”

Jungkook’s eyes doubled in size at Jimin’s word of advice. How could he tell you something like that? What if you don’t feel the same and it totally ruins your relationship? He couldn’t burden you with something like that. 

“Hyung, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea-”, Jungkook started but Jimin quickly interjected.

“You can’t carry this burden forever. And Y/N deserves to know the truth. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way if you don’t confess how you truly feel? You have to trust her.”

Jungkook understood what Jimin was getting to. His feelings were getting in the way of his relationship with you and Jimin. He had to tell you how he truly felt so he could finally let this burden go. 

He just hoped you felt the same way.

Jungkook didn’t say another word as he walked up to the dog hybrid and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He was just glad that his relationship with Jimin could be salvaged. As vulnerable as he feels right now, it felt good for Jungkook to open up and have this talk.

“It’s going to be okay Kook”, Jimin reciprocated the younger man’s embrace, he’s grateful that Jungkook could be honest with him.

“I’m so sorry hyung for everything, I hope you can forgive me”, Jungkook felt guilty for making Jimin believe he did something wrong. He’s doesn’t deserve to have someone as kind and understanding as Jimin as a friend.

Jimin chuckled, patting Jungkook on the pat, he reassured him, “it’s ok Jungkook, I understand. That’s something hard to go through, especially when you bottle up those feelings and keep them to yourself. Everything’s gonna be ok.”

-

Jungkook’s been with a few girls here and there but his relationships never latest for more than a few dates. Not after they would find out about you. Of course, when the topic would inevitably come up, Jungkook always insisted that his relationship with you was strictly familiar. Most of the time, it would work in qwelling any relationship doubts but only temporarily. It was impossible to miss how Jungkook’s eyes would light up when you walked into the room, the attentiveness he displayed everytime you spoke, or the sweet smile and giggle he gave you when you said something funny.

Jungkook could feel himself start to feel nervous again as he fumbled with the front’s door to his apartment. Either you would awake and waiting for him (it’s a cute little habit of yours to always wait for him after work to greet him, no matter how late) or you would be snuggled up on the sofa fast asleep if you couldn’t suppress your sleepiness long enough to see him.

Jungkook finally opened the door only to be greeted to the sight of you quietly asleep on the softa. He felt his heart melt at how peaceful and gentle you looked snuggled up under the heavy pink blanket. Your face was just barely peeking out of the covers as was your favorite stuffed animal Cooky.

The conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.

Quickly locking the door behind him, Jungkook was quiet as he set his things away as to not to disturb your slumber. In times that you would fall asleep on the couch, you would wake up and find yourself in your room again. Jungkook moving you back to your bedroom the night before. As peaceful as you looked, Jungkook figured the couch probably wasn’t as comfortable as your mattress.

After Jungkook finished setting his things away, the first thing he did was pick you up as gently as possible from the couch. Being mindful of not making too much noise and making sure he brought Cooky with you, he swiftly moved you from the couch into your bedroom as if you weighed nothing. He’d get ready for bed after he moved you.

Jungkook had just set you down on your bed when he felt you stirring beneath him. Shit. He must have awoken you during the procress.

“Kook?”, you said in a voice heavy in sleep, “that you?”

“Yeah Bun, I’m just moving you”, Jungkook replied, almost whispering, “sorry for waking you, I’ll be leaving now, ‘kay?”

“Wait no, don’t go yet Kook”, you were fully awake now, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand in a weak attempt to get him to stay, “how was work?”

“It was great. Lots of clients”, Jungkook shrugged, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “you sure you don’t want me to leave so you could go to sleep baby?”

“Nah, I’m ok”, you replied with a shake of your head, “I’m fully awake now, see? Don’t worry ‘bout me. Why’d you come home so late? Was it really that busy today?”

“N-no. I just forgot some things at the parlor so I had to go back. Then me and Jimin talked for a bit about something important…”

“Oh?”, you sat up now, using your elbows to prop yourself up from the bed, “what about?”

Suddenly, the world started to feel like it was slowing down to a stop. Jungkook felt extremely vulnerable again under your curious gaze. Even more so than when he was with Jimin. He can’t recall if he ever felt as nervous and as clammy as he did right now. Can he really go through with this?

“Y/N…there’s something important that I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now but I never had the courage to say it.”

“Yeah?”, you fully sat up now, feeling your heart speed up now in anticipation at what Jungkook had to say, “what is it Kook?”

Jungkook sighed. Why did this have to be so difficult?

“Y/N, the reason why I stayed up so late was because I told Jimin the truth about how I felt. About that night between you and Jimin. About you.” 

Jungkook was gnawing at his bottom lip now, it was too late to go back now. He had your attention completely. He felt like a 12 year old boy confessing to his crush for the first time. His heart could burst out of his chest at any second now.

“The truth is”, Jungkook took a second to clear his throat before he continued, “I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’m in love with you and I know as an owner I shouldn’t feel- hmph”

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to Jungkook’s, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. It wasn’t lustful or needy but a delicate kiss. For a second, Jungkook froze. Your lips were softer than he had imagined. You two locked lips for what seemed like forever before you gently pulled away to properly respond to Jungkook’s confession.

“I’m happy to hear that Kook because for the longest time now, I’ve loved you too. I was also scared to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same or not. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward in your own home. To be honest, I’ve always tried to hide my feelings but I knew I couldn’t ignore them anymore when you brought another girl here for the first time. It was that client from your work, remember? I felt so jealous that I cried that night. I don’t think I can handle seeing you with anybody else.”

Was this really happening or were you still dreaming? Even if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.

Jungkook felt the massive pressure he had carried with him for so long just dissipate in an instant. It was just like all his worries and doubts had been flushed out of his system. You loved him back. Not just in a familiar sort of way but you were in love with him too.

“Ok, I won’t ever bring another girl home again, I promise.”

Jungkook couldn’t help himself but slowly smile at your cute confession of jealously, who knew you were so possessive?

“Kook, why didn’t you help me with my heat?”

Jungkook chewed at his lip again, not knowing how to best respond, “It just didn’t feel right for me as your owner and a human to use your natural instincts as an excuse to have sex with you. I just wanted to do what was best for you and so I fiigured finding you another hybrid as a partner would be the best course of action.”

“You wouldn’t have taken advantage of me Kook, I may be a hybrid but I have enough control to know what I’m doing”, you reassured Jungkook. You were finally glad to hear that Jungkook didn’t offer himself as a partner to you because he felt unsure of himself and not because he didn’t want to be your mate, “Jiminnie… he’s nice but…I wanted you to help me.”

“Hmm, is it too late for me to take care of my baby girl?”

Maybe it was low or the raspy tone in his voice, but his words immediately made you squirm.

Taking your hands in his larger ones, he brought your hand up to his face, tentatively leaving tender kisses on your fingertips. Its little actions like this that turned you into a pile of putty in front of him.  

“Mhm”, you inched closer to him, practically purring your next words, ”I mean, it’s not too late at all, please mate with me Kook.” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice, his lips were already back on yours at your command. Unlike your first kiss, this one quickly turned into one laced with pure lust. You moaned as you felt Jungkook’s tongue slip inside your own mouth before exploring everything he could.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook leaned back and took a couple of seconds to take you in. Here you were, beneath him and in desperate need of his touch. Even in this state you were beautiful, your hair was fanned out, eyes glossy and heavy, and your lips were parted as you let out short breaths.

In Jungkook’s attempt to better re-adjust his position to where he was hovering above you, his rapidly inflating shaft had unintentionally made contact with your clothed pussy. You moaned as you felt him rapidly stiffening under your touch.

“What do you need from me baby?”, Jungkook’s voice was laced with pure lust, “No need to be shy now, I’m all yours.”

“Want you to touch me here”, taking his hand in yours, you trailed it down to your body right down to your cunt. Your wetness had soaked through the fabric and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you had surely left a huge stain.

You shuddered as you felt Jungkook’s larger hands finally reach the place you most wanted them.

“We just started and you already made a huge mess Bun”, Jungkook teased as he slipped his hand beneath the band of your panties. He could your slick immediately coat his fingers as he rubbed lazy circles around the sensitive flesh.

Before you could respond, Jungkook slipped his finger inside you. You were already so wet that the action brough no discomfort.

“Hngh”, you squimed at the sensation of Jungkook fully immersing a digit in you. Jungkook watched your face scrunch up in pleasure as he slipped yet another digit inside. Using his free thumb to rub small circles on your numb, Jungkook began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them slightly to fuck you at a more pleasurable angle. He only had two digits in you and yet your cunt was already squeezing tightly around him. When he moved his fingers out, he could feel your pussy try to suck them back in.

“So tight around my fingers,” Jungkook spoke, moaning at his own words,”How are you gonna handle a cock stuffed inside you, baby?”

“Mhm, I c-can handle it.”

You suddenly felt Jungkook slip his fingers out of you, instantly letting out a whine at the loss of him inside you.

“Don’t worry bunny”, Jungkook laughed at your adorable whine, “we’re not done yet.”

Jungkook pulled back, now moving himself down your body to bring himself closer to your quivering core. He was pleased to find a huge wet stain decorating the front of your panties as he gently tugged you pajamas off of you. You lifted your hips slightly so Jungkook could fully remove your pajamas off of you. After discarding your pajamas somewhere on the floor, Jungkook leaned his face in to hover over where you desperately wanted him before placing a gentle kiss through the fabric.

Hooking his fingers on the sides of your panties, he slowly peeled the fabric off, taking every second of the view. Once again, you slightly lifted your hips to assit him with taking the wet fabric off. You shuddered as you felt the cool air hit your exposed core. 

As much as he wanted to take in more of the gorgeous view in front of him, Jungkook decided not to waste time any longer and lowered himself until his face was mere centimeters from your pussy. You smelled as divine as you looked. Tentatively, he placed another soft kiss on your folds before licking a strip.

You mewled at his actions, earning a hum of satisfaction from him. 

“That felt good huh baby?”, he chucked from in-between your legs. Slipping his hands beneath your thighs, Jungkook hoisted them over his shoulders to give himself better access to your clenching pussy. 

“Mhm, want more of it Kook”, you muttered breathlessly. 

Only this time, instead of going straight for your needy cunt, Jungkook opted for a bit more foreplay to prepare you. He placed a few more gentle kisses on the surrounding flesh of your core. Very gently, he bit and sucked on a few areas, leaving behind the faint marks of hickies in some places. 

“Kook, p-please”, you were practically muttering to yourself at this point. Diving your fingers down to your pussy, you parted your lips to show Jungkook exactly where you needed him, “touch me here.”

Jungkook chuckled at your needy request, “since my princess asked so nicely...”

He dove straight to your pussy, his mouth covering the slick flesh. Jungkook wasted no time in attacking your pussy with his tongue and lapped at the slick pouring out your wet hole. A wave of pleasure washed down your entire body. It’s like you were experiencing your heat all over again only this time Jungkook was the cure.

Jungkook’s free hand came down to rub gentle circles around your clit as his tongue continued it’s assault on your cunt. With just a few more laps, you came completely undone. Your thighs began to shake as you rode off your orgasm with Jungkook’s tongue still buried in your pussy. Jungkook ensured that not a single drop of your juices went to waste. 

With your orgasm fully washing over you, Jungkook pulled away to give you a few moments to let your body calm down. His hard cock was now digging through the fabric of his jeans and his balls heavy from neglect. Never had he given himself blue balls from a sight as beautiful as this before. Catching your breath again, you felt a vivid shade of pink dust your cheeks as you caught on to Jungkook’s dilemma.

Jungkook’s hard cock sprung out from his pants the instant he peeled them off. You moaned at the sight, your thighs instantly spreading a little farther as Jungkook wasted no time in getting inbetween your legs. He looked down at you with his pupils blown out in lust as he stroked his throbbing cock.

“Ready, baby?” You nodded furiously, almost forgetting your own voice. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s throbbing cock so close to your pussy. Jungkook took notice and decided that you suffered enough to keep teasing you. Hoisting your thighs and pulling you close to his lap, Jungkook proceeded to run the tip of his cock up and down your slit. You squirmed at the sensation, instinctively pushing yourself closer to what you needed. 

“So impatient”, Jungkook let out a small laugh, though truthfully, he himself couldn’t wait much longer. You felt the air in your lungs disappear as Jungkook gently slowly pushed the tip of cock inside you.

“F-fuck”, Jungkook grunted, bottoming completely inside you. Your walls were squeezing his cock deliciously but he resisted the urge to fuck you. You were clearly still trying to adjust to his size, your face cutely screwed up in a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort at Jungkook’s full size inside you.

Jungkook took a moment to drink in the beautiful sight of you beneath him, taking him in completely. It’s like you were made for him. 

The initial discomfort of Jungkook’s cock buried inside you was quickly fading into pure bliss. You started to wiggled your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, desperate to find the relief you were looking for.

“Fuck, you know how fucking cute you are, right?”, Jungkook leaned down to peck your lips, “you’re so good for me.”

“M-move Kook, puh-please”, you stuttered, too far gone in the absolutely euphoria you were experiencing.

Taking your word, Jungkook began moving his hips in a steady rhythm. He too became increasingly more vocal the more he fucked you. He was entranced with the sight before him. Whether it was the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made, the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight pussy, or your face screwed up in pure bliss. He didn’t know where to look.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you too were just as entranced at the sight before you as he was. You don’t think you can ever get enough of the sight of Jungkook’s cock sliding in and out your cunt.

You racked your hands up Jungkook’s abs and chest before wrapping them around his neck, instantly pulling him a little closer to you.

You always admired Jungkook’s well defined abs, he had the physique of a greek god. You remembered the first time you caught a glimpse of his hard abs and how weak in the knees it made you. Jungkook had just come out of shower with only a pair of sweats on. You were in the living room, buried in a book when he strotted into the kitchen to grab a bottle water. You remembered blushing furiously as you tried to hide your face behind your book before he could catch you staring. Since then, you dreamt of feeling his abs beneath your fingertips.

Once again, you felt your breath hitched in your throat as Jungkook leaned his face only a few centimeters away from yours. He was now resting himself on his forearms from above you. Your heart was beating in your ears now from how close his face was to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your skin and you could count every eyelash as he fluttered

Catching you by surprise, Jungkook pressed his lips onto yours, snaking his tongue into your mouth. As he pulled away, a thin string of salivia connected you two.

“How could I have been such a fucking idiot to let another man have you like this?”

“M-mhm, no need to worry Kook”, as fucked out as you were right now, you managed to pull yourself together to give him a coherent reply, “a-am all yours..”

Jungkook felt his heart swell with pride in his own chest at your declaration, “and I yours, bunny.”

With each thrust hitting you in your sweet spot, you inched closer to that familiar sensation. Jungkook too could tell that you were getting close, evident by your pussy clenching more sporadically around his cock. Griping the sheets beneath you, you started babbling pleas and cries for more almost incoherently as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

Re-adjusting his position, Jungkook now sat up and griped your hips as he began fucking you faster and at a deeper position.

“C’mon, bunny”, Jungkook grunted, he too was unsure how much longer he’d be able to last, “Cream all over my cock.”

It was Jungkook’s words that finally edged you to your high. You felt your eyes squeeze shut as you screamed in pure bliss, muscles contracting as you finally felt the relief that your body had been begging for wash over you. 

It was a glorious sight, really, watching you lose yourself beneath him. You were milking his cock for all he was worth and he could feel himself start to lose himself as well. You could feel it too, his thrusts gradually becoming more shallow and losing their rthymtic pace. Locking your arms around his neck, you leaned forward to pepper kisses on his jawline.

“Come in me, Kook”, you whispered softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “wanna feel you.”

Not a second longer passed by and Jungkook’s warm seed was spilling inside you, filling you up completely. The world around you seemed to slow down and you drew dizzy at how full you felt in the moment.

Slowing down his pace to a stop, you felt Jungkook lay himself to rest behind you. Still partially buried inside your hole, he wrapped his arm around your tummy, pulling you snug to his chest. For a few moments, the two of you laid like this, just caught up in the moment and trying to catch each other's breath.

“You good now, bunny?”, Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence. You replied with a hum of satisfaction, buring your head deeper in his chest, you could hear his rapidly beating heartbeat slow down a bit.

Feeling you relax beneath him, Jungkook slid his cock out from your trembling pussy. A conconation of his semen and your juices instantly squelching out. You whined at the loss of him and at the sensation of your juices running down your hole.

Grabbing a few tissues from the side of your bed, Jungkook lazily wiped both of you down as to not sully the bed further. Making a mental note to wash your sheets first thing in the morning. 

“Jungkook?”

“Yes Bun?”

“Don’t date those other girls anymore, ‘kay?”

Feeling himself melt at your cuteness, Jungkook chuckled before leaning down to kiss you on your forhead.

“Okay, promise I won’t. Not when I have you.”

[ms-demeanor]

I apologize, do you know anything about "rugged" laptops? I'm an ADHD college student who has a lot of difficulty with spacial awareness and stuff so I have trouble with delicate laptops that break if you set them down too hard and I'd like something that can handle basic coding requirements (R studio, Jupiter Notebook, etc), and preferably can stream video for classes as well, though that's less of a requirement. I emergency ordered a cheap lower-spec used rugged laptop from eBay because my laptop isn't working, but I was wondering if a.) you think the whole thing is a gimmick and there's an easier way to get what I need and b.) if it's not a gimmick which ones actually do what they need to. Thanks!

Rugged/Ruggedized laptops are absolutely not a scam, they are incredible, it's just that the ones that are actually rugged are incredibly expensive.

I have a small collection of used Panasonic Toughbooks that are absolutely positively not functional as modern computers but work great for slowly connecting to the internet and running a word processor or programming radios. They are literally used lineman's computers and are supposed to be able to survive falling off a telephone pole. They're dustproof, so they're great to use in the desert. If I tried to edit raw image files on them they would go on strike. I'm pretty sure I could use one as a hammer.

You CAN get used or refurbished ruggedized laptops that are useable; here's a site that sells them. BUT. BUT. You're still going to be paying a high price for computers that are slower and more limited than a cheaper, more delicate computer.

So basically you're combining two separate needs here and they're not playing together great. A rugged laptop can be a great thing to have if you're the kind of person who drops your phone ten times a day (me!) But it's going to be slower and more cumbersome than a lot of what is on the market and it's going to cost a lot.

Honestly in your situation I'd probably focus on getting better performance specs out of a thinner, cheaper, lighter laptop and maybe maximize performance at the lowest price possible if you know you're a laptop destroyer (there's a reason my phones are always whatever's cheapest and in a protective case; I drop them so frequently and so creatively that I can't afford to have nicer phones).

Either that or throw power into a desktop and get a chromebook or something similarly cheap to carry around campus and have your real working computer live on a flat surface that never moves.

If you're trying to find a middle ground, business-class computers can take a bit more abuse than the flimsiest cheapie student computers because they're meant to last and are expected to move around. ThinkPads are my fallback rec for a bunch of reasons, and "sturdiness" is one of those reasons, but a business desktop is not going to tolerate being dropped. So it depends on what level of sturdy you need.

From an ADHD management perspective, you might want to consider your habits around how/where the computer gets moved; don't put it in a backpack if you're likely to drop your backpack on the ground when you get to class. Don't put it on the arm of a chair if you'll forget and knock it off the chair. Don't put it on your bed if you'll forget and sit on it. Make very specific landing spaces and very specific rules for how it gets moved and where it can go (my laptop can only go in one specific backpack and only if it's totally turned off; my laptop cannot be moved when open, i need to shut it before I carry it someplace; my laptop is not allowed on the bed or the center of the couch, it is only allowed on my desk or on the arm of the couch; I tend to set my laptop down hard so I don't set it down on my desk, it gets set on a stand. Etc, etc, etc)

Hopefully that's at least somewhat helpful. I wish that real rugged computers were more affordable and had better performance specs; if you can find one that will perform to your needs and you can function with linux, you may be able to get a toughbook or something like that for under a thousand dollars but you'll sacrifice processing power to get one that old. Good luck, I'm sorry!

[aaronstveit]

so you want to read more this year!

i answered an ask about this recently, but i thought i would make a post about it so i could (hopefully) be a bit more clear and helpful. i specifically wanna help people who used to read a lot, but have fallen off for a while now. obviously everyone is different, but i hope at least a few of these tips can help you.

let yourself read slowly. you don't have to speedrun every book you read; in fact, it's usually better if you don't. forget the way that you used to race through books when you were younger. let yourself take time with them now. especially if you haven't read much lately, it's going to take you longer to read now than it used to. and that's okay! a lot of stories are better when they are experienced slowly, so you can absorb them more.

stop viewing reading as a competition. you aren't trying to win a pizza party or special field trip now, so there is no need to compete with other readers. so what if someone else read 10 books in the time it took you to read 1? other readers have nothing to do with you. the only person you should be "competing with" is yourself.

that said, setting goals and challenges for yourself can be a life-changer. i'm not just talking about a goodreads goal, although setting a numerical goal is often helpful. but i mean setting more broad goals, like reading more books of certain genres, or more books by authors of color. setting goals without specified quantities can help you because it's not a pass-fail situation, it's just a personal challenge. there are also all sorts of reading challenges you can try, like reading a book for every letter of the alphabet. you can find any sort of reading challenge on the internet; the storygraph has a whole section dedicated to challenges, both site-run and user-run. you can even create your own! popsugar also runs a very popular year-long reading challenge.

experiment with book formats. physical books, e-books, and audiobooks allow several different formats for people to try out! figuring out which formats work best for you help you to enjoy reading and gain more from the experience. don't listen to people who say audiobooks aren't "reading." if you enjoy audiobooks, listen to them! the only person you have to answer to is yourself.

experiment with different genres. even if you think you know exactly what genres you like and don't like, try branching out and trying books outside of your comfort zone, especially if you haven't read a lot lately. you never know when your tastes might change!

don't be afraid to DNF or pause a book. the thing about reading as a hobby is that it's supposed to be fun. yes, you should read books that challenge you, but this doesn't mean you have to make it to the end of every book. if you're hating a book, if you dread picking it up, if it bores you: just quit. that way, you can find a book you actually enjoy to read. trying to force your way through a book you're hating just usually makes you read less in the long run.

utilize your public library if you have one. this one always feels obvious, and yet people always seem to forget it. libraries exist for a reason! a lot of libraries have apps where you can check out e-books and audiobooks, so definitely use those if you have them. if you want to read a physical copy of a book that your library doesn't have, you can probably request an interlibrary loan! and if they still don't have it, you can usually request that your library order a book.

take advantage of books in the public domain. most classics are now in the public domain, which means that you can read them for free on Project Gutenberg, and if you use apple products, you can usually find them as free ebooks on Apple Books as well. if you're looking for audiobooks, Project Gutenberg also has those. you can also check out LibriVox, which is a volunteer-based organization that provides free audiobooks of public domain books. you can find a lot of their books as free podcasts on spotify!

reread old favorites. this is my personal favorite way to get out of a reading slump. familiar favorites are great for getting your brain back into reading mode without having to introduce yourself to a brand new story. you can also take the opportunity to annotate, if you're into that! speaking of which:

don't let the idea of annotation intimidate you. if you're not being graded, you can do whatever you want with annotations! i know some people who choose specific themes and tab them in their books, which is cool. some people just highlight favorite quotes and passages, and that's good too! you can pick out foreshadowing, make notes on things you find funny or interesting, even draw on the pages! if it's your copy of a book, then you can do whatever you like with it.

challenge yourself to write reviews. even if it's only a few sentences, it makes you engage more with the story, which is a good thing! you don't have to share these reviews, you can keep them in a private journal or document if you like. but it's good to make you think more about the book you've just read.

check the trigger warnings. if you have any triggers whatsoever, you definitely want to check trigger warnings before you read a book. you can usually find them by scrolling through goodreads reviews, or by googling "[book name] trigger warnings."

let yourself get distracted sometimes. i know this sounds counterintuitive, but hear me out. if you're in the middle of reading and suddenly you start thinking about scrolling through social media or something, finish your chapter and then let yourself scroll for a few minutes. it's better to give yourself a few minutes to scroll and then come back to your book, rather than continue "reading" while just thinking about scrolling. i'm not saying to put down your book and devote yourself to your instagram feed for the rest of the day; just take a few minutes, then get back to your book. do it between every chapter if you have to. or, if you decide you want a snack or something to drink, go get it! you don't have to sit still for hours on end if that doesn't work for you.

find someone, anyone, that you can talk to about books. it can be a person irl or online, a friend or coworker or family member. you can join a book club or a discord server. just, if you can, find someone to talk to about the books you're reading. this is another way to engage more with your reading material, because you're thinking about it in conversation, and it's also a way to get more excited about the things you're reading! you don't even have to be reading the same books. you can also recommend books to each other, and discover new favorites this way.

try reading more than one book at a time. mix and match genres, time periods, and styles so that you have different books going for different moods. that way, if one book isn't holding your attention, you have another one that will.

social media is cool, but don't let it control you. let social media bring you new book recommendations and friends, but don't let it dictate what you read or how you organize your bookshelves. just because everyone else is reading something doesn't mean you have to, if you don't want to; just because everyone else has a picture-perfect reading nook doesn't mean you need one, too. you aren't less of a reader because you don't spend hundreds of dollars on new books, or because you don't read the most popular genres and authors. you also aren't less of a reader for reading what's most popular! again, you aren't in competition with anyone else. don't let bookfluencers steal your joy.

obviously, this list isn't all-encompassing or universal. this is just the advice that helped me get back into reading after years of barely touching a book. i hope there is something on this list that can help you, if you need it. happy reading!

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 29

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You should have known. Bucky should have known. Today was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be beautiful. There was no world you could live in that was peaceful.

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: Canon- typical violence. Car Accident. Blood. Guns. Gunshots. Description of Wounds. Loss. Everything. (I'm so sorry.)

Authors Note: Sorry. Love you guys! Let me know your favorite scene from the series so far! I'd love to know. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

You never should have gone alone.

You knew better, but you wanted to be independent. You wanted to show him you could exist on your own, even after your injury. But you were wrong. 

You were wrong, and now it was all over.

Bucky and you had finally purchased walkie-talkies. You’d made a plan to stash them in familiar, but hidden, places in the city. So if you ever got separated again, you would have a way to contact each other, and set up a meeting place. 

You had also been putting together go bags with supplies to stash. Clothes, bandages, toiletries, a map of the city, and cash. Everything you’d need if you were stranded. Bucky wanted to be prepared for anything. He wanted to know that if you had a repeat of the last time, you would be safe.

Bucky helped you stagger down the last few steps to the apartment landing. “You made it all the way on your own, you’re getting better.” 

“And I only had to use you as a crutch for half of it. Watch out, soon I’ll be running marathons.” You chuckled, sticking your hand out for one of the duffels. Bucky was hesitant to hand it over. 

He looked at the dark handle in his palm, then glanced up at you. “Are you sure?”

“I have to be able to survive on my own, Bucky.” You told him, wiggling your fingers at him. “If I can’t walk the street alone, what's the point? I might as well live upstairs as your pet.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “You’re not a pet.”

“I know. But I have to prove it.”

“You don’t have anything to prove.”

“I do, to myself.” You smiled, wrapping your fingers around a free space on the handles. “So gimme. Let me do this. Plus, we can talk through the radios the entire time.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head at you as he handed the bag over. You circled the handles around your shoulder and pulled out the walkie-talkie. “Doctor to soldier, do you read me? Over.” You spoke into the mic. You could hear its other half mumble in Bucky’s bag.

He rolled his eyes, pulling the radio out. “I’m not talking like that.”

“That’s going to make it really awkward for me, over.” you pressed the button. You snickered at the wrinkle between his brows. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Bucky huffed, walking with you out of the building. You walked side by side to the intersection, then stopped. “Radio me if your leg starts to hurt, I’ll come meet you.”

“I will. I’ll be fine.” You smiled. “See you for dinner,” you turned on your heel and started walking down the street. You could feel Bucky staring at you, his gaze heavy and pressing into your back. But you refused to look back. 

If you were going to have to live the rest of your life like this, on the run, you wanted to feel like you could be independent. You wanted to prove to yourself that you weren't helpless. You were in control. You could and would survive. You would make a life you were proud of and you would move forward. And you knew you could do it.

Or at least, you thought you could. 

You were wrong. 

And god, did you wish you would have just turned around.

You stashed the bag first. You buried it behind a garden maintenance shed in a nearby public park. It was dirty, and suspicious, but you buried it deep. You made sure to bury a daffodil plant from nearby over the drop site, to mark the bag.

You radioed your progress to Bucky, then made your way to the agreed on location for the walkie. 

It had been a long time since you took a walk on your own, feeling the sun on your skin and the peace of chirping birds. You used to love going on walks. You remembered the countryside inn you sayed in all those months ago, and how beautiful the trees were there.

The drop site for the radio was a few blocks from your regular street market. In the alley behind the Irish pub. There was a large graffitied Romanian word, one you didn’t recognize. You scraped along the edges of a loose brick in the center of the letter O. Once you finally tugged it free, you radioed to Bucky one last time.

“I’m dropping the walkie now, over.” You released the button, waiting for a response.

“I’m almost finished stashing the bag, I’ll see you back at the apartment.” Bucky had taken the longer route, pitying you and your injured leg. The whole intention of splitting up in the first place was to make the process faster for you both. 

You’d stash the bags, stash the radios, then meet at the apartment for a long afternoon of dinner and reading. Like any other day.

“Oh come on, you’re not gonna say it even once?” You chuckled, trying to egg him into using stupid radio lingo. 

“Nope.��

“Fine, see you at home.” You snickered, then slotted the radio into the hole. You fitted the brick back in place.

As you stepped back onto the street, you felt proud. You felt more secure with yourself. You were able to do this on your own, without Bucky’s steadying hands or pitying gaze. You did it. And even though you felt a bit childish praising yourself like that, you knew you were allowed to feel proud.

You’d overcome so much, experienced so much. You deserved a moment to be proud of yourself.

Your leg was starting to ache the further down the block you walked, the throb travelling up to your hip. You were fine though, you knew the route back to the apartment and you could drag your leg there. Worst comes to worst, you would wait at the bottom of the stares for Bucky and ask for his help getting upstairs. 

You crossed the street, your stomach rumbled. You were excited for dinner. You always ate something cheap and easy, but Bucky was able to get a stake from the butcher shop down the street. He’d been running deliveries for them for a while now, and sometimes it came with perks.

Your thoughts about getting home, and dinner, were interrupted by a buzzing sound swirling around you. 

At first you thought it must have been a fly, so you batted your hands around your head. But it continued. You glanced around, at the people walking past you, going on about their lives.

You guessed it must have been someone's phone. No one was close enough for you to hear their notifications.

Your brows crinkled in confusion. The buzzing got louder. Something flickered above you. You glanced up. 

A small, hovering machine flew around the corner. A little red light blinked. 

Your stomach dropped to your feet. 

No.

No.

You stumbled back, walking right into a man digging through his bag. He grumbled something at you in Romanian. “Sorry-” you blurted, panic rising in your chest as your gaze darted around the street. Men, women, children. Families. Couples.

But which of them was it? Who was controlling that thing?

Who was following you?

The man in the ball cap? The man dressed in all black up the street? Or was it the woman leaning against the coffee shop wall behind you, whispering quietly into your phone. It could be anyone. It could be no one. Who was it?

The machine buzzed from above, following your every step. 

Oh god.

The radio. You needed to get back to the radio before Bucky stashed it. 

You stumbled between a couple holding hands as you frantically paced up the street. You didn’t waste time apologizing. Sweat gathered in your palms. You just had to get to the radio. You needed to find sanctuary to gather your thoughts because it's fine. This didn’t have to mean anything. The machine might not even be what you think.

But the panic swelled and ached, constricting on your lungs as your mind fed you all the worst case scenarios. Because what was your life if not a whirlwind of worst case scenarios?

 The intersection ahead was busy with cars and taxis beeping at one another. Men shouted angrily from their windows. Children skipped along the sidewalk. You didn’t have time to wait for the light. You looked both ways and waited for an opening. You staggered off the curb with a wince, a pinching ache travelling up your thigh. 

You powered through, jogging across the first lane. The alley wasn’t too far away, you hadn’t made it far. You just needed to-

You heard a woman from behind you shriek. 

An engine roared. You saw a flash of red. You saw knuckles against a steering wheel. 

Your body slammed over the hood with a sickening thud. You cried out, rolling over metal. Glass fractured beneath the force of your limbs. Your skull cracked against the pavement, your body rolling a few feet away.

The world was chaos above you. People shouted and screamed for help, for the police.

You couldn’t move. Your limbs splayed out on the road. Something warm trickled down your temple. Something cold burned against your cheek, the same feeling spiking along your right leg. 

You let out a strangled breath, your cheek pressed to the ground. You tasted blood.

Leather boots stepped into your hazy line of sight. “Îmi pare atât de rău!” A high pitched male voice shouted down to you. “E în regulă! Ajutorul vine, vă voi ajuta.”

I'm so sorry! It's okay! Help is coming, I will help you.

The words sounded muffled to your ears, hovering and dissipating above you. Large hangs pushed you onto your back. You cried out, feeling something pinch in your pelvis. A silhouette hovered above you, scooping beneath your arms. You tried to squirm, your foggy mind stalling, but catching on the one thought you still had.

Run.

“Trebuie să o duc la spital!”

I have to take you to the hospital!

Bile rose in your throat as your mangled body was dragged along the bloodied pavement. A car door opened. You were being laid out across the backseat. Cold tears stained your heated cheeks. 

Doors slammed shut. You heard the engine rev. More voices spoke above you. 

No end to this would be in your favor. No police. No hospital. No witnesses.

“N-...” your throat closed around your attempt at words. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. You blinked, trying to clear your vision. Your head lolled to the side, watching the world move through the windshield. 

But then you saw it.

The man in the front seat pressed something in his ear canal, then spoke in a rushed tone. He glanced back at you from the rear view mirror.

You choked on a muted sob, your heavy hands smacking against the door above your head. The man in front shouted something at you. You groaned, crawling onto your back. You yanked the handle, but the door stayed shut. You smacked your hand against the door until your fingers found the lock. 

The driver slammed on the breaks, shouting back at you. You blinked, your vision clearing enough to finally see the man’s red face. You swung your open palms at the man, your nails catching on his skin. You snarled, shoving yourself forward to reach for him as he jerked back.

“Fu-Fuck!” you slurred, scratching his cornea. He shouted, his foot slipping off the break. You took your chance and yanked open the door.

You toppled out and climbed up on gangly limbs. You stumbled forward, running awkwardly as blood dripped down your leg. Civilians gasped as you shouldered through them, your bloody fingers sliding across walls to keep yourself up.

You took a break halfway up the street to throw up on the sidewalk, your head pulsing and aching. You could barely make sense of your movements, you just knew you had to get to that radio.

You had to move. 

Shouts cried out from behind you, you looked back over your shoulder to see the man clutching his face, waving something at you. Your stomach rolled as you realized what it was. So much for no witnesses. 

A bullet sparked against a lamp pole beside you, making you jump back in shock. “Shit-” you heaved. A group of teenagers shrieked and scattered from in front of you. A young boy shoved past you, knocking you into the nearest wall. 

You shakily tried to right yourself. It was just a second, but it was long enough.

A sharp, burning, screaming pain ripped through your shoulder. you sobbed, catching yourself on the wall again. Your trembling fingers pressed to the steadily soaking spot below your collarbone. 

You staggered forward, sliding your feet one after another until You resembled walking. You dove behind a group of tourists, frozen in the street, using them for cover. 

When you finally crashed into the alleyway, you could barely see straight. Your skinned palms dragged along the wall until you found the loose piece. You yanked the brick from the wall. Your bloody fingers dug out the radio until you had it tight in your hand. 

“Bucky-?” you slurred into the mic. “Bucky please-” you tried not to gag as blood slid down your side. You stumbled further into the alley. Mindlessly, you wrapped a hand around the cold metal hinges of the nearest fire escape. “Bucky-”

“Y/n?” His familiar voice cracking through the radio made you sob in relief. “Y/n? What’s happening?” He called to you as you slowly dragged your body onto the fire escape. “Y/n-”

You slumped against the dirty brick wall, your eyes fluttering open and closed. “Bucky…” you whispered, your body draining of energy. 

“Y/n? What’s happening?”

“Bucky it happened- it- oh god- they're using drones,” you heaved, trying to wipe the sweat from your face but only smearing blood across your cheeks. “I’m- Bucky-” Nothing made sense to your frantic mind. Adrenaline pumped hot in your veins, but you were at a steady loss of blood. Everything felt cold.

“Y/n! Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?” His voice grew steadily in panic.

“I-I’m shot Buck- I-I think I’m shot,” you whispered, pressing your free hand to your steadily oozing wound. Your fingers dripped red. 

“What? Where are you? I’m coming, are you in the alley?” Bucky sounded like he was shouting, but he felt far away. You tried to keep your eyes open, staring at the bricks across the way.

“Don’t come…” you panted. Your fingers felt cold. “They’re coming, Buck.” You let your hand slide into your lap, letting blood drip down your arm. “I was wrong…” you whispered, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry…” your lip trembled between words. You should have listened. 

You shouldn’t have been so stupid.

“Sweetheart, listen to me, stay where you are-” Bucky shouted. “Put pressure on your wounds-”

“Bucky…” you dragged your lips against the radio, leaning your face into it. “Thank you.” You knew the man was close- much closer than Bucky. You knew it was really over this time. “Thank you, Bucky.” You wept. “Thank you for everything.”

“Y/n- stop it-” 

You pressed your shaky finger to the button, cutting him off. Shouts from down the street echoed. “They’re almost here. I’m- Bucky, I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I wanted- I really wanted…” Tears streamed freely down your bloody face. “Be careful. I-I know you’ll be good.” 

There was so much you wanted to say to him.

“Y/n, just shut up and try to stay awake,” he begged. You’d never heard his voice like that. You wished you could see him. You thought it was good you couldn’t.

You wouldn’t be able to do this if you saw him. 

You wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.

“Don’t be scared.” You told him, your voice growing weak. Your head felt light. You blinked back tears. “You’ll be much safer…on your own.” You heard a man’s rapid footsteps echo in the alley. Your eyes felt heavy.

“Y/n,” he paused, his voice gruff and begging. He was panicked. He was terrified.

He wasn’t gonna make it.

You smiled ruefully to yourself. “Thank you, Bucky. For everything.” You whispered, switching the radio off. Then, as you heard the man shout at you from below, you started smacking the plastic walkie-talkie into the brick wall beside you, again and again. Until it cracked and frayed, shattering in your hand.

You felt the metal frame of the fire escape shake. You let your eyes slide closed. 

You wished you would have gotten one more dinner with him.

Bucky hit the floor, his back sliding against the door. He heaved, his throat closing up on the need to gag. He stared down at his trembling hands. Blood caked beneath his fingertips. His chest constricted, his head filled with the sounds of your soft, quivering voice.

“Thank you Bucky. For everything.”

You were gone. You were really gone this time. 

He knew better. 

He should have said no. He should have gone with you. He should have known what would happen. They knew you were the weaker target. They knew they could use you. 

He guessed that any minute, a team of dozens would be storming the apartment. He guessed at any minute, the small world the two of you had built together, would come crashing down.

The home you’d both grown so familiar with. Shattered into fragments of a bloody memory.

The apartment that still smelled like you. 

He could still see your pajamas folded on the floor beside the bed. Your touch, your color, your life was painted and embedded into every inch of that room. But it didn’t matter. You weren’t coming back. Not this time. 

He was alone.

“Thank you Bucky. For everything.”

And it was all his fault.

A/N: I'm glad the last chapter gave you guys a bit of comfort before....this....and everything that follows. Love yall!! Comment, message, send anons, let me know your thoughts. Please be kind!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout

[spelled-like-pajamas]

Something I don't think I've ever seen someone talk about with TF2 (though there probably is someone) is a small detail in the Expiration Date video (which came out in June of 2014, for context that's important later). For context, here's the clip in question:

Did you catch something small? When Scout stands up and says he'll do the date without Spy's help, Spy does something he rarely ever does, something absolutely tiny, but that speaks volumes.

He smiles. A genuine, non-snarky smile.

If you were to watch this when it first came out, and notice this detail, I'd not make any sense, really. Why would he be smiling, when Scout is arguing with him, telling him that he's wrong, basically saying he just wasted his supposed final hours on this world teaching him something he's not going to use?

But then, in January of 2017, nearly 2 and half years later, and (okay spoilers but this has been around for like more than 7, nearly 8 years since posting) it is all but directly shouted from the heavens that Spy is Scout's father. And all of a sudden, this small detail, Spy's smile, takes on a whole new meaning.

As Scout's father, Spy is proud of him.

Even though for what has been presumed to be the finals days of their life, even though Spy has taken ever opportunity to belittle him, to tell him he is a failure and this won't work, that he won't get Pauling (which he probably won't regardless since she is, much like the Spy-Scout relationship, pretty much confirmed to be a lesbian), Scout stands up to him. He stands his ground for something he wants to at least try to do.

And Spy smiles because he is proud of his son for learning one of the best lessons he could ever teach him: stand up for yourself when you believe in something and really want it. He never got to teach him so many things with how he never got to be involved in his raising because of his job, but over the course of 3 days they have, he gets to teach him so much, and leaves him with the most important advice without even saying it.

And it helps to explain a good bit more. It explains why the only reason he interrupts isn't to talk back or put him in his place, but remind him that he's got a date to get to, and his smile only fades when Scout just flat out insults him, like he ruined their father-son bonding moment. It explains why he's so attentive, watching him attempt to start the date, and why when he seems him next, instead of telling him something snarky or rude, or telling him to fight better, he reminds him there is someone he needs to make an apology to, and try to give him the space to take care of that admits the chaos.

Spy can't show it, but he is proud of his son.

Anywho, happy 100th post (took me long enough). Hope to be more active on here, and post more things, and maybe even show off some cool things I make. But to everyone who has been a part of this, from the voice overs on YouTube that first intrigued me to check this place out, to the few but wonderful mutuals I'm so lucky to have, to every weird and amazing person that makes this site somewhere we can call home, I thank you!

okay, bye!