#you could not get me to talk with a gun to my head. not because i dont want to but a mysterious third reason. who knows

[gold-onthe-inside]

contingency operations

n. def. - a situation requiring military operations in response to natural disasters, terrorists, subversives, or as otherwise directed by appropriate authority to protect US interests.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: when a former navy SEAL threatens your base of operations, your safety is the only thing on spencer's mind. content warnings: jealous and pining spencer, gun talk, spencer kind of manhandles you, spencer getting cockblocked by jj word count: 1.8k a/n: don't hate me, i didn't have his confession speech planned.

It’s not that far a stretch for you to be the first person he thinks of — while JJ’s negotiating with her DoD contacts to get them a look at a classified operation, he’s gone upstairs to look for you. Working in counterintelligence meant you had access to all kinds of information, whether that be domestic or international. Spencer carefully carried the cup of coffee, file pinned under his arm, aiming to find you at your cubicle, except you’re standing at another one, perched on the table while you talked to another person.

Spencer’s not the kind to get jealous, or so he thought, except the guy you’re talking to isn’t like the others who occupy the floor — he’s got broad shoulders and an easy smile, and at least if he was blond, he wouldn’t have been competition. He just had to be a brunet, charming to top it off. Spencer doesn’t know if he’s ever made you smile unless you were teasing him.

The longer he stands there, the more awkward he feels, and he eventually gets the nerve to knock on your desk and make you look up — an improvement to a year ago where he would have just pretended to look lost and leave. His stomach turns when he watches you place your hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing as you walk away.

“Is that a bribe I see?” you asked, the corner of your lip curling as you spied the coffee in his hand.

“Nope, it’s completely unrelated to the favor I came to ask,” Spencer said, earning a rueful look as you take it and sit in your chair.

“What do you need?” you asked, sipping the coffee that was made perfectly to your liking — he'd gotten to know your preferences better over the last year, spending more time together since the Doyle case. You'd been an escape from the suffocating emptiness of the bullpen, and he'd been good company when you had been barred from Penelope's lair for 6 months.

“Anything you might have on Dorado Falls,” Spencer said, his voice rising an octave in hope that you might help as you go through your files.

“And Pen can’t do this because?” you asked, pulling up your file directory.

“She doesn’t have clearance,” Spencer said, lacing his fingers together and twisting it in his nervousness. As expected, you turn your head to look at him.

“You want eyes on a classified op you don’t have the clearance for?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

“Yes?” He's got this puppy-eyed look, like when he asks if you have lunch plans, or if you want to see a 4-hour long sci-fi film that's only available in Russian.

“Reid,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I can’t just—”

“He killed 8 people in one day,” Spencer insisted in a hushed voice. “He’s got a U.S. General as a hostage, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He watched your folded lips, your contemplative look, and he can finally take a breath when you turn your chair and acquiesce.

“You people are gonna get me fired one of these days,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer leaning over your shoulder as you find the file you’re looking for. “Navy SEAL operation, 2003, this what you’re looking for?” you asked, his breath fanning over your cheek, warm and coffee-tinged. If you turned your head, you could probably kiss his cheek — not that you would. But the thought crosses your mind as he nodded.

“That’s the one,” he said, and moved when you had to reach for the drawer, copying the file onto a clean flashdrive before ejecting it.

“I like my job, Reid,” you said, turning to look at him, which you could do forever with his coiffed hair and blue sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with a grey vest. “If I get fired, you’re paying my rent,” you continued, pressing the flashdrive into his hand and his lips break into a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he replied, closing his hand over the drive and leaving you to your work, and you watched him walk until he got to the glass doors, holding back a laugh as you watched him break into an awkward run for the elevators.

The next time he goes to your floor, he doesn’t bother waiting for the lift, running up stairs as fast as he can to get to you before the unsub does — even though it’s wholly unprofessional. He needs to be with his team, ready to talk down the unsub at a moment’s notice, but his focus shattered the moment he found out you hadn’t evacuated yet. Instead, you were focused on activating a failsafe program, in case anyone other than the members of your division moved to access the network on your floor.

“What are you still doing here?” Spencer yelled at you, almost skidding to your cubicle.

“Almost done, give me a second,” you said, gritting your teeth, fingers flying over your keyboard as you authenticate yourself. “Jesus Christ, I need to make this program faster,” you muttered and Spencer swears that if the unsub doesn’t kill you, he might.

“Really? There’s a Navy SEAL breaking into the building, and you’re thinking of more projects to work on?” he demanded, his hands pressed to his revolver.

“There’s a Navy SEAL on his way and you think a cowboy pistol’s gonna save you?” you retorted sharply.

“What do you have against my gun?” he asked, his voice rising in octave again.

“Uh, how about the reload for one,” you said. “What, do you carry around spare bullets in your pocket? Plus the recoil rules out rapid fire. What are you gonna do if you get pinned down?”

“I’m gonna keep you from getting killed,” he said, reaching out to grip your bicep. “You’re right, I don’t have the firepower of an uzi, what I can do is get us out of this room,” he finished, tugging your arm.

"Hold on, it's almost done," you muttered.

"No, I'm dragging you out of here now-" He said, but you just shrugged, still tapping away at the keys with only your left hand free.

"No, you can't," you said idly as you continued to work. "You haven't the strength to get me to move without cooperation, and I'm not leaving until I finish this."

“I-“ he opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he going to say? That you were being stubborn for the sake of it? That your life was more important than this task? That you should get up, and run with him? That he’d save you? He couldn’t voice any of those. You both knew them all anyway, and you’d be able to rebuff them with ease. “Just hurry, please.”

He leaned closer to you, trying to ignore the soft scent of your hair.

"Oh, well, now that you've told me to hurry," you responded dryly, turning your face to look at him, inches away from his. The proximity surprised him, but he barely had time to think about it before you were hitting return and taking your hand off the keys.

“Done,” you announced, standing up. “Time to run. Unless, of course, you want to argue about that too?”

"Can we?" he asked, pulling you along the corridor. "I do have a list of complaints about your recklessness."

"You have a list of complaints about everything," you retorted as he opened the fire escape door for you. You stepped through, Spencer closing the door behind you both.

"Your general attitude is up there," He admitted, running down the stairs and pulling you after him. "Your inability to keep yourself safe, your tendency to throw yourself into danger for the sake of a project—"

"Jesus Christ, Reid, if we find out a rogue operative is going to break in, you don't think we'd have a protocol for it?" you argued, frustrated.

"Yes, I believe the protocol is to evacuate," he reminded you, reaching the landing. He kept you close, though he'd never admit that it was to reassure himself.

"God, for a genius, you really are daft," you muttered, rounding the corner to another flight of stairs. "You think we'd just leave the entire network open for him?"

"No," he allowed, following your hurried footsteps. "But I don't think your life should be worth the risk. No data is worth you dying."

"Yeah, how about dozens of classified operations and cover identities that need to be kept under wraps?" you snapped at him. "I was doing my job, you're the one who came looking for me when you should be with your team."

"The team knows my priority is with you," he admitted, then immediately regretted it because that was information that he hadn't been planning to tell you.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. "What does that mean?"

His eyes widened and he backtracked. "The team knows that if you're threatened, the likelihood is I'll disregard protocol," he said. Well, it was the truth, even if it wasn't really what he'd meant. "We should keep moving," he said.

"No, you can't keep doing this," you demanded, pulling at his arm. "Every time, every time, you say this cryptic coded thing that I don't know what to do with. Just say what you mean, already!"

"I-I don't..." Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes wide. The truth was, he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to know where you stood with him... but the fear of rejection would stop him every time. He was in love with you. He hadn't had the courage to admit it yet. His earpiece interrupts him, and for once in his life, Reid is almost glad to have his earpiece interrupt his thoughts.

“Reid, we’re seeing movement on the 7th floor, where are you?” JJ asked, her voice rushed.

"I'm in the stairwell with the most stubborn woman in the world," he said, looking pointedly at you as you scowled at him.

“Get back up here,” JJ replied. “We need all hands on deck.”

"I'm coming," he said, and looked at you. "So much for getting you out," he murmured. "If you run now, can I trust you won't go back to your desk?"

“Believe it or not, I have no interest in facing a 6 ft Navy SEAL,” you replied dryly.

"So that's a yes," he says, smiling despite his attempt to remain serious.

I'm in love with you, he thought, but he wasn't brave enough to say.

I don't want to lose you. He was even less willing to voice that.

"Don't stop running till you're out," he told you instead, his voice as firm as he could make it.

"Don't get killed by a SEAL," you replied, your sense of humor never failing you as you add, "Although, it would be a cool way to go out."

"I'm sure you'll be very smug about it at my funeral," he said, but neither of you were really smiling anymore. "I'll be okay," he promised you. "Get out of here."

You take one last lingering look at him, then started running down to the exit, leaving him behind.

It took him a full 5 seconds to start moving after you finally left, and the feeling of emptiness in his chest only grew with each step up the stairs.

He was in love with you, and he was determined to tell you.

Just not yet.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 138 (Ash In Captivity)

Ash Landgraab woke inside a small wooden shack. He was still wearing his winter clothes, but a warm sunshine was setting outside the small windows. His head hurt, but he thought he made out palm trees below clear blue sky. Did he smell the ocean?

He remembered being taken by a man in a hood and sunglasses, but the man stuck him with something sharp...and then he woke up here. Outside, he heard the voice of the man who grabbed him, his words muffled as he spoke to someone on the phone.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait? If we can't get back, who knows what we'll even make it back to? The longer we're here-"

The man grumbled, sticking the phone in his pocket as the door to the shack swung open. Ash kept his face forward to mask his fear, making note of the items in the room. An old fridge that smelled like rotting food, a few books, a camper's portable bed, and an old Grimophone.

Catching the boy's eyes glance toward the music player, the man sneered. Did he know what it could do? "It's broken. Don't even think about trying to play music. If you make so much as a sound-"

"You'll do what? Kidnap me?"

"Worse." The man sneered with a shake of his head. "You Landgraabs are all the same. Smart mouths, no sense. What moron convinced your family to let security take vacation during the Easter break? We'd never have gotten close to you, otherwise."

Ash frowned. "I...my Nan said it was a nice idea! How do you know Conrad, anyway? What other Landgraabs do you know?"

Ash's captor laughed. "So many questions! I don't have time for any of them. I need to go get someone; you stay here. If you try to leave, the whole place will blow. And if it doesn't, there will be two men with big guns guarding the door. Their orders are to shoot if you try to escape."

"You said on the phone you don't even know what we're waiting for. Who were you talking to?"

"It's rude to listen to people's phone calls."

"It's rude to talk about people behind their backs!"

The man clenched his fist with a glower. "If you weren't worth more alive then dead..."

He stopped himself, pulling out his phone again. The door slammed shut behind him, and he made a show of loudly turning a skeleton key to lock it behind him. "No bull, kid. Remember, men with guns will be here any second now."

(There is Landgraab in Ash, guys. It's not advisable to talk to your kidnapper like this at nine years old, but just because Ash doesn't talk to everyone this way doesn't mean he doesn't have that instinct when faced with someone rude! He's been raised - by the Landgraabs - believing he's special and his kidnapper all but confirms it.)

Ash slid under the covers in the small bed, waiting until he heard the man swim to an outrigger canoe in crystalline water, parked next to tall black rocks. He could definitely smell the ocean, but it didn't smell anything like the sea in Brindleton Bay.

When the man and his canoe disappeared behind the rocks under the rapidly setting sun, Ash moved quickly. He was familiar with Grimophones because they still had Bella Goth's from the time his parents' learned to make ambrosia. He knew Lavender loved dancing to music playing from the old machine, but he also knew it could be used to summon someone who didn't need unlocked doors to move around.

He'd never used it to call the Grim Reaper before, but he moved close, speaking quietly into the black and gold painted horn. "Excuse me, Mr. Grim Reaper, sir. I could really use your help if you're free right now."

He waited a few long, agonizing moments before the Grim Reaper appeared in the corner. "Ash Landgraab? I was just spending time with dear Bella! What are you doing in Sulani?"

"I...I'm not sure. Someone took me and I woke up here."

"Took you?" Grim peeled back in shock. "Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts and I'm hungry, but I'm okay I think...You're like a courier, right? Can you get a message to my parents to tell them where I am? The man said he had to go get someone and that more men were coming soon, and he said they'd have guns. I'm scared!"

Grim's hollow black face still emanated sympathy for the boy. "Will your parents have time to reach you? It's a long flight to Sulani..."

"My grandparents have a really fast jet," he offered nervously.

Grim nodded. "I'll do everything I can to get them here as fast as possible. When the men come, just try to stay calm."

Ash nodded in agreement as Grim disappeared in another puff of black smoke. His stomach grumbled, but he didn't want to eat whatever might be turning inside the fridge.

Grim reappeared moments later, but he hadn't landed in Brindleton Bay or San Myshuno. He stood before Felix, Lilith, Rafa, and Melissa outside the abandoned ship. Lilith grinned excitedly. "Oh wow! That's not just cosplay; you're the Grim Reaper!"

Felix cleared his throat. He'd avoided Grim for over a century, having taken somewhat personal their last unfortunate meeting on the day of Felix' death. "Hello, Grim. You're not here to reap someone's soul tonight, are you? We're quite enjoying our vacation."

"Speak for yourself," interjected Rafa. "You really won't give up no matter how many times I tell you I won't cooperate with you and Conrad."

"It really is in your best interests-"

Melissa stepped forward with a frown. "He said no. Can't you just leave him alone?"

"I can, most certainly. But Conrad's an officer of the law and I'm not so sure he can."

Grim shook his head, his deep, echoed voice reverberating over their own. "I'm not here to reap any souls no matter how much your bickering tempts me. I'm here for Conrad's stepson, Ash Landgraab."

"He's just a boy!" argued Felix. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not here for his soul; Ash asked for my help. He's been kidnapped, and they're keeping him on an island not far from here. His parents don't even know yet that he's missing. They'll find out soon."

Rafa shot a look at the hooded reaper before them. "You're really the Grim Reaper?"

Felix nodded, remembering his death as though it were yesterday. "Trust me, it's him."

"I don't trust you!" argued Rafa.

"Enough! Time is the only thing that matters and that boy is running out. The people who took him didn't fly him to Sulani on a commercial airline. When Ash called me through an old Grimophone in the shack where they're keeping him, I went back in time to find him."

Rafa's eyes bulged. "Seriously, what the hell is with you people?!"

"It's only a few hours difference. Just a little earlier today. But that just means it'll take his family a little longer to get here and he said there would be men with guns. You could help him before they even know he's gone."

"What men with guns?"

"I'd imagine they're connected to the same group of hitmen responsible for too many of my visits out here."

"So, you're saying a kid was taken by a time traveler and brought to hitmen in Sulani? Why would someone do that?"

"He told you why," Lilith said carefully. "The kid's a Landgraab."

Melissa's face fell. "Like the company? So they took Conrad's stepson for ransom money?"

The Grim Reaper shrugged. "I don't know anything else, other than to note he was headed to the tiki bar when I saw him on my way over here. He looked frustrated - maybe they were supposed to travel to a different time and place but something went wrong."

"What do you mean 'wrong'?"

He shrugged again. "I've been around a long time; I know plenty that can go wrong with time travel. If his kidnapper figures out what went wrong, they could be gone to who knows where, and who knows when, before his family has a chance to look for him."

Felix and Lilith stepped forward eagerly. "We're in," said Lilith. "I haven't met Ash's parents yet, but Felix owes them his life and I owe them for Felix."

Rafa grumbled, as good-hearted Melissa glanced at him cautiously. "You want to help them, don't you...Rafa, it's dangerous!"

"I have to, Mel. If I don't help Conrad's stepson and he knows I was asked, what would he owe me anymore?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Time travel?! Blame the new rewards event and the inherent weirdness of The Sims, but just like embracing my gameplay (mistakes and all!) and turning it into storyline, in keeping with the tradition of baking rewards events into the plot, we're going there and this is the gateway!

WCIF Shack Build? Lost Cave on the Sims 4 Gallery by ApollArtemisLuna. I thought it would be this cave-looking lot with big boulders, but when I placed it there were no boulders. If I read German I might have known this only looked like this in the screenshot because it was placed inside the Forgotten Grotto, presumably with TOOL. So I pivoted from Plan A and surveyed the lot I got. Definitely still fit the vibe of the location and -voila!- a Grimophone was included by the creator!

Ash definitely knows what a Grimophone is and what it can do since Heather and Conrad still have Bella's (it's theirs now, really), and the plot sprouted from the gallery build. I can't stress enough how much I love the Gallery and how it inspires my creativity in ways trying to build my own lots wouldn't do! Thank you builders!

[flycoffee]

Man! you have no idea how much I wanted Loid to have conversations with dads where it’s from school or parks, preferably school! My brother and I have this conversation about his daughter/my niece being too popular for his liking because sometimes my niece doesn’t the other kids keep wanted to be friends with her while she plays in the park, and my brother tells me it him puzzled him that she would always get attention like that, and it worries him a bit for the her future, and I jokingly said maybe he should enroll her to some self defense classes while she is young for future troubles, and he genuinely think it’s a good idea. It’s a funny memory.

Anya after the bus hijack becomes very popular among her peers, it showed in the school dance and winter sheep festival, Twilight as a spy has yet see the problem and he wanted her to make friends and they are just kids so why worries plus Anya seems to enjoy the attention, but what if there will come to an opportunity where Loid would be socialized with other parents and have some dad conversation I don’t knows what dad talks about, but I hope some of the conversation will awaken the deep father instinct in him.

“You most be Anya Forger’s father I am some rich name my son admired your daughter so much after the bus incident said that he wanted to be as brave as her”

“My daughter too! And wanted to know how she can be so carefree even after she got her second Thunderbolt!”

And in true Loid fashion Twilight socializes with them with ease.

They talk, have some other topics Twilight gathering data, and so on then one of the dad said.

“It’s nice that she is popular amongst her peers now it will make the years after easier but you must have some worries too hmm? My daughter tell me she was quite popular among the boys in the school dance and lot of boy want to dance with her, I have an elder daughter and the boy she chooses to go out with” the dad signed and looked sad.

Some other dad said my daughter who is in 10th grade some rich name, who is the emperor scholar and they heard of her before with her achievement in Eden.

“The boys that surrounding her sometime and send those gift to my doorstep just make me want to pull out my guns” who look displease and angry, all the dad there agree.

At this moment twilight tries to imagine Anya as a teenager and the boys who asked her to dance at the party are also teens in a similar scenario asking Ayna to dance, and he quickly shakes the thought away “Calm down twilight you won’t be there when she reaches to that age, hopefully. And Yor would probably pull her out of Eden because of the fees I just need to think of the excuses for Yor to let her study in public school before I exit this mission.” But then the image of regular teenage boys wanting to go out with Anya startled him too, “would it be better if Anya chose to be with someone from the higher social circle of Ostania? But she is such a care free girl to think she will get in to a family of strict rules and manners would she be happy in those kind of relationship? wait what am thinking here I have no saying in Anya’s distance future, who ever she chooses will be her choice I just need to trust Yor would guide her through those phases, the worst Anya could chose is properly someone like Franky, a boy who is active from underground world, hopefully not.” all these happened in 0.9 seconds in Twilight’s head. But one of the dad said

“My wife have been reading a book about raising teenagers and want me to spend more time with our daughter apparently little girl will base lover preference on their father, how I treat her and her mother will be the mobile for her future spouse”

One of the dad said “what? then it’s already too late for me!” All the dad laughed at it except for Loid.

“No twilight! The worst isn’t someone like Franky at least Franky is genuinely want to be with someone the worst possible outcome is Anya falling in love with someone like ME!!!” At the point Loid had excused himself from the dads.

“Did we scare him” one of the dad ask.

“Base their future lover on me as Loid Forger might have been okay but I know all too well that Loid is a fake he is too perfect and nice if Anya bases her preference on that she might be fooled by an Espionage someone who is too perfect to be true, what if this mission get discovered in the future and enemy spy trying to find my weaknesses and use Anya as a pawn, what I did to those women will come back biting Anya” it is this moment Twilight couldn't imagine the worst karma that might happen on him/his daughter for the mission.

I have yet to know how Twilight will snap out of it but it's hilarious to imagine him as in parenthood turmoil for the mission!



[chrissssssmut]

TRAPPED IN HER WORLD

Giselle x Male Reader feat. Ryujin

You never wanted to be here.

Clubs weren’t your thing.

Loud music. Sweaty bodies. Flashing lights.

It was a nightmare for an introvert like you.

But your so-called friends had dragged you along.

“Come on, Y/N, you never go out!”

“You need to live a little, man.”

So here you were.

Sitting alone at a booth while they disappeared into the crowd.

You checked your phone. 1:43 AM.

Just a couple more minutes. Then you could fake a stomachache and get the hell out of here.

That was the plan.

Until she appeared.

She slid into the seat across from you like she belonged there.

Long dark hair. Red lips. A Black Sexy Dress that somehow made her presence even bolder.

She smirked.

“You look like you’d rather die than be here.”

You blinked.

She chuckled. “Did I guess right?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“Well, lucky you. I like guys who don’t belong.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“What’s your name?”

“…Y/N.”

She grinned.

“I’m Giselle.”

And that was the moment your life changed forever.

Minutes turned into hours.

Talking with her was easy.

She didn’t ask pointless questions. She didn’t try to fix your introversion.

She just… understood.

And then—

“Let me get you a drink,” she said, standing up.

Before you could respond, another girl appeared.

Shorter. Sharp eyes. Dark blue hair.

“This is my friend, Ryujin,” Giselle introduced.

Ryujin smirked, sliding a glass in front of you.

“On the house.”

You hesitated.

Something felt off.

Giselle tilted her head. “What, scared I spiked it?”

You forced a chuckle. “Of course not.”

You drank.

And then—

The world tilted.

Your vision blurred.

Your heart slowed.

You looked up at them—

Giselle’s lips curled.

Ryujin whispered, “Nighty night.”

And then—

Darkness.

You woke up in a strange bed.

Cold. Expensive sheets. A faint smell of perfume and metal.

Your wrists were tied.

Panic surged.

The room was too quiet.

Then—

A door creaked open.

Giselle walked in.

She was different now.

No teasing smiles. No playful banter.

Just pure control.

She sat on the edge of the bed, running a knife along the mattress.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Your breathing hitched.

“What the hell is this?!”

She sighed. “See, Y/N… I really liked you.”

The knife pressed into the sheets.

“But I don’t waste my time on normal guys.”

She leaned in.

“And you? You’re mine now.”

You fought.

Screamed.

Begged.

Nothing worked.

The windows? Bulletproof.

The door? Locked from the outside.

Your phone? Gone.

And Giselle?

She was everywhere.

Watching. Controlling. Owning.

One night, she sat across from you at dinner.

“I should probably tell you what I do,” she mused.

You didn’t answer.

She smirked.

“I sell things.”

She swirled her wine glass.

“Drugs. Weapons. Sometimes… people.”

Your stomach dropped.

She tilted her head.

“But don’t worry.”

Her fingers brushed your jaw.

“You’re too pretty to sell.”

You shuddered.

.

.

.

.

You waited for the right moment.

The second Giselle left the room—

You ran.

Through the hallway. Down the stairs.

To the front door.

It was unlocked.

Your heart pounded. Was she careless?

You shoved the door open—

And froze.

Because outside?

Nothing.

Not a street. Not a sidewalk.

Just endless forest.

A voice whispered behind you.

“Where are you going, baby?”

You turned.

Giselle.

Smirking. Holding a gun.

Your legs gave out.

She crouched in front of you, pressing the barrel under your chin.

“You really thought I’d let you leave?”

You whimpered.

She smiled.

And whispered the words that sealed your fate.

“There is no escape, Y/N.”

“You belong to me.”

Days blurred into weeks.

You stopped fighting.

Stopped thinking.

Giselle made sure of that.

She controlled your food. Your sleep. Your sanity.

And one night—

She cupped your face.

“You finally understand, don’t you?”

Your lips trembled.

She kissed you. Soft. Slow. Poisonous.

And when she pulled away, she whispered—

“Say it.”

Your voice shook.

“I belong to you.”

Her smirk widened.

“Good boy.”

And as she pulled you into her arms—

You knew, deep down—

You would never leave.

Not because you couldn’t.

But because she wouldn’t let you.

Epilogue – The Final Escape

You had one last chance.

One last, desperate attempt at freedom.

You waited. Watched. Planned.

For months, you played along.

“Yes, Giselle.”

“I love you, Giselle.”

“I belong to you, Giselle.”

And slowly—she trusted you.

Until, one night, she left the door unlocked.

A mistake.

Or maybe… a test.

But you didn’t care.

You ran.

Through the halls. Down the stairs. Out the door.

And this time—

You didn’t stop.

The forest was endless.

Your lungs burned.

Your feet bled.

Branches clawed at your skin, but you didn’t stop.

The moon was your only light.

And for the first time in months—

You felt hope.

Then—

A gunshot.

BANG.

The sound ripped through the trees.

And a voice—

“Baby.”

Your blood ran cold.

Footsteps. Slow. Calculated. Hunting you.

You tried to run faster, but—

BANG.

Pain exploded through your leg.

You collapsed, gasping.

Dirt filled your mouth. Blood soaked your jeans.

And then—

She was there.

Standing over you.

Giselle.

Her silhouette sharp against the moonlight.

She crouched, pressing the barrel to your temple.

“I’m disappointed, Y/N.”

Tears burned your eyes.

“Please—”

She sighed, brushing your cheek.

“I gave you everything.”

You sobbed.

She tilted her head.

“Did you really think I’d ever let you leave?”

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

And the last thing you heard—

Was her whisper.

“Goodbye, love.”

BANG.

But—

You weren’t dead.

Your ears rang. Your body shook.

The pain in your leg burned, but—your head? Untouched.

You gasped, blinking through the blur of tears.

Giselle’s voice was gentle.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby.”

You barely processed it as she crouched beside you, her hands soft as they cupped your face.

“Did you really think I’d kill you?” she whispered, her tone almost… amused.

Your lips trembled.

“I—I heard the gun—”

She smiled.

And then—

She raised the gun to her own temple.

Click.

Empty.

Your stomach dropped.

She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear.

“I never load the last bullet.”

Your body froze.

She wasn’t planning to kill you.

She never was.

This wasn’t an execution.

This was a lesson.

Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

She yanked you forward—forcing your gaze to meet hers.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“No more running.”

You sobbed.

She smirked.

“That’s my good boy.”

And as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead—

You realized the truth.

She didn’t need to kill you.

Because she had already won.

[respectthepetty]

At one of the nearby-ish universities, researchers can use the lab that attaches those little pads to people's heads and see their brains light up (the sign-up list is loooong), and I always think my brain would look like fireworks going off while I watch color-coded boys fall in love because once Black Brooder Yotha said that Green Guy Gun was his boyfriend to his Blue Boy brother and Gun's Blue Boy best friend in Perfect 10 Liners' sixteenth episode, I'm sure my brain stayed lit!

Even when I saw Yellow Yal Arm and Red Rascal Arc not in their colors, my brain wanted to shut off right here, but I think Arc's shirt has yellow highlight over the text (for his man), and every time I see that Manchester United poster, -I- see red from my rage, so I guess I'll make the colors happen with or without the show giving them to me.

But Sam makes up for it since he has consistently been a Red Rascal in the second portion of the show, always popping up to talk shit and bounce, and it appears Arm is wearing a light yellow, so my brain is, once again, lighting up!

However, I wish we would have gotten more of the other color-coded friends since we don't get enough Orange Oddities (Book) or Pink People (Franc) in BLs. But I know every story is going to have the Blue Boys (Kong AND FAIFA!!!!)

I won't be too mad at it though because, as I've mentioned every single week, this show's color coding is just so damn good, so my brain is always lighting up. Like these are the exact faces a jovial Green Guy and a mean Black Brooder would make. Perfect faces. Perfect colors. Perfect 10 Liners.

Even Faifa's rage is perfect!

Because even though Faifa's dark blue shirt is telling him to "Seize" the day and "Just trust yourself then you will know how to live," as a sign of the dark Blue Boy coming his way, he can't see his own happy ending when he is listening to Gun say stupid shit like "Love makes you tiny." I'd also be plotting murder if I was him.

COLOR-CODED BOYS IN LOVE ARE DISGUSTING(LY ADORABLE)!

Random: Someone at GMMTV likes puppy play because every single show has some aspect of it, so good for that person getting everything they wanted!

Because I got matching birthday ties! So Yotha got matching binary tattoos with Wa, but he has matching bracelets and ties with his current boyfriend cementing that Yotha is an emo who likes sentimental gifts.

Emo Black Brooders in love are the best!

I'm not going to get over that there was a whole ass Pink Person and Orange Oddity in this portion of Color-Coded Boys The Series, and I know minimal information about them.

But thank goodness I know everything about these two yin yang colored boys!

Because they are meant for each other. They are toxic AND in love!

They fight just so they can have make-up sex.

Good for those beautiful bastards!

That could never be these two color-coded boys though.

Gun doesn't understand anger or foregoing sleep in favor of sex unlike these other color-coded boys.

Good for him!

And the more light Blue Boy Faifa cries about not having someone, the more I scream that he is about to meet his match in dark Blue Boy Wine. Newton is going to hate BOTH his brothers.

Now Yotha and Gun are putting on matching pajamas just to take them off the way God and Arm intended.

Have I mentioned how happy my brain is about color-coded boys in love? Because I'm very happy about color-coded boys in love being there for each other when they have to deal with big emotions.

Even more so when they are color-coded brothers who yell at each other that "You're too pessimistic" and " You're too optimistic" since the colors only emphasize those points!

Newton remains neutral, the dad is blue, and the mom is pink. This is Heterosexuality 101, which is why Yotha and Faifa do not comprehend it.

Yes! Keep saying this Gun! Keep reminding me that the people who worked behind the scenes on this show deserve a raise! Keep saying you bring light to this Black Brooder's dark world!

Because your shirt will explicitly state it later ("Sunshine on my Mind")

All is right in the world. Everyone is in the color, and Yotha got jokes.

AND ARM AND ARC ARE FINALLY IN THEIR COLORS TOO!

Thank God for small miracles and color-coded boys in love.

NOW BRING ME MY LAPIS LADS!

[luckypunklemonade]

| "I'm Going Nowhere You Won't Find Me."

[Smut MDNI 18+; Established relationship; fem!reader; 3k words] BackwardsCap! Stiles Stilinski didn't mean to worry you. Don't worry, he'll make amends.

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

“You could’ve gotten shot?!”

You slapped the table, standing up as Scott spouts excuses. All “I didn’t even want to go in!” and Stiles counters with “Scott found the key! And he wasn’t gonna shoot me!”

You shake your head, trying not to overreact and deciding between if it’s okay now that they’re here and safe or if you should freak out. “Are you kidding?”

Stiles followed your unsure train of thought, “Look, we talked to him, and we left. He was never really gonna shoot us.”

You brushed him off and uncomfortably kept your eyes out the window into the dark. Imagining a gun pointed at your boyfriend and his best friend was already scary, given how often it could happen. He didn’t seem to understand your anxieties being on the outside. He thought the fact that it was over would calm you down. You did, too. 

Your big issue was that he didn’t tell you he was about to enter a dangerous situation. You knew what you signed up for in being his girlfriend, but that was one of your requests. That he at least told you so you weren’t left with nothing. He promised you would never be in the dark if he could help it. It was a mutual agreement that you could help, so he’d trust you, and you’d trust him You weren’t mad, but you couldn’t articulate just how you felt. You figured you’d be able to after a night's rest and then some.

“You guys need to get home. It’s late, and your parents are probably worried and clueless.”

Scott nodded and grabbed his coat, but Stiles stood firm in front of you.

“C’mon, can we talk?”

He stepped up to you, hands sliding around your waist and asking for your attention.

You ignored the ploy, “Did you drive Scott here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, get him home. It’s too late to be out in this town. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he noted the frantic tone in your voice, emphasized by how much you knew about the supernatural in this town from him. Stiles grabbed his keys and walked with Scott outside. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you.”

And then he came back. You were lying in bed, taking deep breaths and winding down when he knocked. You shot up, sifting through what you know about the supernatural for something that could mimic his knock. You padded over the cold floor to the door and looked through the window at the top. It was Stiles. Of course, it was Stiles.

You opened the door, and Stiles stepped inside without hesitation. As you were closing and locking the door, he pulled you by the waist into him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Stiles, I’m not mad. I just- I wish I weren’t left so clueless. I hate looking stupid, and then you come to me with something like this. I would feel much better if I had known you were going into that, I could’ve been prepared.”

Stiles smoothed your hair behind your ears, “I know it was stupid, and you should not have to suffer because of it.”

“I’m not saying you can’t go out and do whatever you want like you did before. I won’t ever want to change that. I don’t want to be the overbearing girlfriend who mothers you. I’m just– What if you go out there and get shot or hurt or worse, and I’m not there to help? I don’t want to be clueless and helpless when it comes to you. You know I’ll always be here for anything, and I can try to chill out, but-“

“Listen, you don’t need to do anything. I didn’t text you. That’s my fault. I agreed to let you know if I had planned anything stupid and failed. I wish you wouldn’t have to worry, but I’d do the same thing if it were reversed. I’m glad I have you on my side, okay? I’ll do better, I’m sorry.”

You huffed, not satisfied with him taking the full weight of shame that comes with an apology. “I just care about you. And Scott. I guess.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek, “Thank you.”

Another kiss, followed by several more peppered around your face, punctuated with, “Thank you, thank you, thank you-“

You cracked a smile and limply attempted to push him away. He shook his head, languidly walking you back from the front door into the kitchen. His lips followed in pace, listlessly pressed against your temple. 

“I should’a known better. Should’a known you wouldn’t be satisfied with that.” He mumbled as he guided your hips to the counter. “Not my girl.”

“Well, it’s your girl’s bedtime.”

Stiles kissed behind your ear, just where he could reach, while he spoke in your ear. His voice was the same tone he used when he spoke up an innocent excuse, just a few octaves lower and so, so close. “Is it?”

“Yes, and you know how I get without sleep.”

You could practically hear him bare his teeth in a grin, his fingers tracing just beneath the hemline of your shirt, “How do you get?”

You laughed and pulled his hands away from your stomach, holding them in yours. He looked down at you, barely hiding how his eyes flicked to your lips every few seconds before ducking his head down into your neck. He subconsciously leaned into you, pressing your lower back into the counter. You felt him inhale deeply, his lips pressed into a spot just under where you applied your perfume. He went after the scent, however faded it was, and you felt him push his face deeper. His nose, his broad smile, his eyelashes all against your neck. He licked that spot on your throat before kissing it gratefully. His head dipped with each movement of his jaw, sucking at the point where he could feel your pulse on his lips. His fingers aimlessly tangled with yours on the counter behind you.

You had to give it to him. He could be reckless. Sometimes, it was hard to be his girlfriend, but he always made it up to you. He’d realized how little he’d been getting a hold of you and spend the next few days and nights with you, making sure you could see how much he loved you. He was erratic, but he wasn’t inconsistent with that part. He wasn’t on and off checking texts or stopping by; he was always committed to that, and it never stopped, but there were exceptions. Of course, you knew what you signed up for. He was worth it, you trusted him, and he was really good at making it up to you.

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, knocking his baseball cap sideways on his head. “M’sorry.”

Stiles bent slightly, hooking his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifting you up to sit on the counter. His smile hooked at the side, making every look of insane emotion sort of playful. He reached up, taking the hat off when you stopped him, “Keep it on.”

“Yeah?” His smirk grew more confident, a look you didn’t often see on the genuine side.

“Mhm. It’s hot.”

Stiles’s smile broke into a grin, although he was sort of distracted by the hickeys he’d left on your neck. Repeating what you say as fact, he let his eyes wander, “It’s hot.”

Your laugh pulled him back in, along with you grabbing a fistful of his flannel, “Very hot, sweetheart. Can you please fuck me now?”

It took him a second to think of a response, of course, after every thought he had was replaced with your words. “I can definitely do that.”

You helped him take his shirt off, repositioning the hat backward on his head after his shirt hit the floor. He smiled as you kissed his cheek and hooked your thumbs under his jeans, Mumbling against your lips as they traveled across his face and down to his neck, touching down every so often. Mumbling about how he’d wear whatever you told him if you liked it. Stopping you from doing any heavy lifting, he gently withdrew your hands from his waistband and led you to crawl into your bed. Instructing you to just sit there and look pretty, he slowly stepped out of his jeans and kneeled on the bed to help you with your shirt. At the pace he had going, by the time he had his eyes glued to your chest, you were already pushing your shorts down. When he saw your impatience, he chuckled and watched you struggle to maneuver them off underneath him. You huffed and gave up, moving your arms out of the way. 

“Atta girl.”

Your interest in his new look made him cocky. The attitude that came with it was no doubt attractive. You found yourself searching for more openings for him to use his confidence and for you to encourage it. You started by humming at the praise, watching him drop your shorts off the side of the bed. At the same time Stiles leaned down to kiss you, your hands flattened against his lower stomach, against his happy trail. You both let out respective sounds of need, and Stiles’s hips lowered between your legs. With the feeling of his dick through the thin material of his boxers came your hips bucking softly. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes slowly, huffing out what was going to be a grunt. “Shit, honey. You make it so easy, don’t you?”

You hummed in response, letting him press himself into you and tell you fondly exactly what a guy like him should do to keep a girl like you happy. “I didn’t just know what I should just do with you, y’know. I thought about it a lot.” Stiles’s mouth turned up when he saw you weren’t really focused on his words. He leaned in, “Like a lot.”

“Mhm, just—“

“Alright, I know. You like it when I talk to you, though, right?”

“Yeah, honey. I like it.” You smiled up at him, the gears turning in his head. Stiles slowly dipped his head to your chest, sucking another mark into where the skin got plush. His eyes tracked yours, doing as much as he could while keeping your eyes on him. You’d been so frustrated lately, not just with Stiles. School issues, problems at work. The stress was irritating, but you couldn’t imagine what Stiles was going through. That understanding was a bare minimum in your mind, but for Stiles, you were the most considerate person in the world. He didn’t want to make you feel like he was just using you because you were available. So, he made sure to check every box he could for you. 

“Fuckin’ love you.” He bit the breath coming out into his lip, and his eyelashes fluttered. He was doing everything to keep his eyes open and watch you. You mumbled it back, eyes squeezed shut as he thrust steadily, but he leaned his way into kissing your temple. “What was that? I’m sorry, honey, I can’t hear you.”

You cracked a smile; that’s all he wanted, but you ventured to use your hand buried in his hair to push his head back down so that his ear was by your lips. You held down a moan, replacing it with, “I love you, too.”

It came out with the same needy tone, though, and he found your mouth to kiss his smile onto yours. While he took a second to hold himself up and take a deep breath, your cheek rested against his wrist. When he felt you gently take his wrist between your teeth jokingly, he looked down and chuckled. “I deserve that. I’ll be a better boyfriend, promise.”

“Honey—“ You began, not wanting him to wallow in self-created guilt.

“I know, but still. Just let me…” Stiles’s smile opened as he moved his hips forward, hand molded around your thigh. He pushed himself deeper into you, eyes erratically trying to find something to focus on. Your face, your chest, your hands, down to where you took his dick so well, his eyes got overwhelmed. But he wasn’t going to close them. He’s not an idiot. He couldn’t figure out which would make him cum first. Closing his eyes and imagining you doing the thousand other things you had talked about, or keeping them open and watching you try to smile up at him through the haze, also struggling to keep your eyes up. It didn’t help that you tend to whine for him, showcasing how blank your mind really was. His thumb was less circling your clit than just trying to savor how messy he’d gotten you. He fed into his curiosity, which he would’ve done regardless of how good it made you feel, but especially because you arched your back off of the bed and pushed your hips up, meeting his thrusts, letting him bury himself deeper. 

He encouraged you, feeling the need start to deepen, pushing him harder. He was driven, you’d told him, thank god he didn’t gamble. Anything verbal was hopeless. He just mumbled emphatically at each movement. He opened his mouth, a clue he was almost there. He just needed a little more. Just having him like that made you clench yourself around him, moaning when he almost lost his hold of himself above you. 

“You gotta…” He almost ’woofed’ out his breath. “Fuck, honey, y’take it so good.”

His voice cracked on ‘honey,’ and you could see it sort of shook his confidence. He’d never really said anything like that with you. He was the first in the relationship to be vocal about most things. He said he loved you first, despite all the inner turmoil, even if it was sort of an accident. It was your encouragement that made him say it, your reaction to his confident demeanor. You saw an opening to make him feel good about himself; you took it. His eyes closed, gears turning and undoubtedly overthinking what he just said, but you said his name, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

With a sort of assured grin, you nodded at him, “Keep going. Wanna hear how well I take it.” 

He mirrored your smile, getting shy about it, but his next thrust had him to the hilt and holding it there. You yelped a little at the feeling of him holding you, of him driven into you and bracing you while you squirmed. You moaned, and he twitched, hearing it sound like he’d knocked the wind from you. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re doing so good. Just like that for me.”

Mewling his name, extremities limp, you let him see exactly how much you liked seeing him try new things. He liked the way you tightened around his dick when he pushed himself inside little by little until you started to reach for his arm, and he’d stop there. You strained a little, taking deep breaths, the muscles in your stomach contracting and squeezing your cunt around him. You came around him, cursing and fawning. Stiles let out a groan that turned into useless and incomprehensible praise. His hips slowly retracted, slowly met yours again, speeding up until he found the release he was chasing. He struggled to keep the pace, though. He’d revert back to his other method, get restless, and try to keep up with his needs. 

When Stiles came, his chest was pressed down against yours. All he had to do was turn his head, and he was kissing your neck again, breathing harshly. He built up the strength to roll over beside you and rest his head on your shoulder. He looked up at you with a little exhaustion when you sat up and brushed your fingers through his hair, the baseball cap forgotten for the time being. His fatigue was clear in his voice when he spoke, and he let his head roll off of your shoulder. “I’ll be better.”

You tilted your head, about to comment how what he just did was pretty damn good, but more than grateful he could recognize how stressed his being in danger made you. You leaned down to kiss his nose, laughing when he tried to croon his neck so that you met his lips. You reached over the side of the bed, your fingers finding the soft material of Stiles’s shirt and pulling it over your head. You managed to find his boxers as well, frowning when a hand took them from you. Stiles put them back on, still lying down and tired. You moved to sit on your heels next to him on the bed, your hand softly tracing shapes into his chest. Stiles tried really hard to keep his eyes open, but you ran your hand over his torso and up through his hair in a way you knew would put him out. He tried to keep talking, but every “mhmph” felt like a monumental effort from his entire body. He ended up letting you trace the veins on his arm while he listened to you, being soothed to silence and held just over the edge of sleep by your voice and your hands. When you finally lay down next to him, Stiles had fallen asleep. He liked waking up to find you had slid yourself into his arms after making him so pliable. Of course, you got a notification and had to check it before you went to sleep for the night, and, of course, it was Scott. He was asking why Stiles hadn’t been responding to his calls or texts and that he had a few ideas they could look over with Derek. You messaged him back that he’d been busy. That you both had been busy with heavy implications in the message. You sent a picture of Stiles fast asleep to help explain how you had put him to bed. Scott’s plain reply of “oh” was enough closure for you to put the phone down for the night. 

[luwritesstuff]

home safe

spencer reid x reader

notes: fighting, minor mentions of guns and explosions, happy ending, no use of y/n, gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

It was just after 1 AM when Spencer finally used his key to your shared apartment and dropped his bag by the door. You were sat on the couch with your arms crossed and neither of you said a word while he placed his shoes on the rack and shrugged out of his jacket. Spencer chewed on his lower lip as he took in the anger on your face, “I'm sorry, I-”

“No,” you said calmly and stood up, grabbing your mug and preparing to go to bed, “I don't want to hear it. I stayed up to make sure you got here alive, now I'm going to bed.”

“Wait, no, but,” Spencer sighed and stopped himself from reaching out to grab your arm, “we need to talk about this, honey. I'm really sorry and you're right to be mad, but please don't go to bed angry.” In another argument on another day you might've agreed, but you hadn't slept properly all week and you weren't ready to be reasonable with him.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You turned back around to face him and dropped your mug back onto the coffee table. Your arms found their place crossed back over your chest and suddenly everything you've been feeling came spilling out, “I've been trying to talk to you all week and now you want to talk? That's not how this works, Spencer! You ignored me and lied to me and you made our friends lie to me. I didn't know if you were dead or alive and you couldn't be bothered to pick up your damn phone for a week. I sat here feeling useless and scared and you just, what? Didn't care?”

Spencer shook his head and you could tell you got to him because his eyes were turning red and he was blinking away tears. “No, that's not it. Of course I cared, I do care. I just, I didn't want to worry you. It was a small injury and then I was just so focused on finishing the paperwork so I could get home to you. I'm fine, okay? It's just a few stitches, but I know you would've sat here by yourself worrying all week if I told you.”

You scoffed and turned to go back into your room, hearing him follow after you. You dug through the closet to find one of your overnight bags and began shoving clothes into it. “What do you think I did instead?” Your phone charger and laptop followed a few changes of clothes, “Do you think that I didn't go through every single scenario and think of every single way you were hurt? I thought, maybe he's dead, maybe he's relapsed and overdosed somewhere, maybe the entire fucking team blew up on the jet because not a single one of you told me what was going on!”

“You would've known something was wrong if I called,” Spencer’s argument was weak and he knew it. His heart dropped when you began packing and he frantically started taking out everything you'd put into the duffel, “No, hey, what are you doing? Baby, I'm sorry. I should've had someone call you, I know that. But I ignored an order from Hotch and I got hurt and I knew you'd be angry with me and worried and I just thought it'd be better to explain everything in person.”

“Cut it out, Spencer,” you mumbled and began repacking everything he took out. “I hate your job. You guys do amazing work and you help people and I admire it so much, but I hate how often it takes you away from me and I hate how dangerous it is and I hate how it follows you home. But none of that matters to me when I'm with you. I have learned to cope with those things because you always come home and you always communicate and you're always so good at reassuring me, but this? This was the worst week of my life and I never want to feel like this again. I will not go through this again and especially not when you could have prevented it. I'm staying at my sisters,” you zipped up your bag and carried it out to the living room.

Spencer stood on the other side of the living room, watching you slide your shoes and coat on. “Was that, I mean, are you breaking up with me?” His voice was weak and he couldn't wipe the tears from his face faster than they were falling.

You sighed and let your shoulders sag before turning back around to look at him. “I need some space, Spencer. There was a second where I really thought you were dead and I felt like part of me had died too. That's not… It isn't okay. I can't keep going like this,” your voice was softer now, no longer spitting out anger but hurt.

Spencer didn't say anything else, he knew nothing he said was going to help and arguing more was only going to make things worse. So he let you leave and tried to stop his heart from following you out the door.

The stay at your sister’s ended up lasting two weeks before you were ready to face Spencer again. He'd texted you a few times, asking how you were, when you'd be home, telling you he loved you. You had answered a couple of the texts, and eventually when he asked if you could talk in person, you couldn't find it in yourself to keep staying away.

“Hi, uh. How have you been?” Spencer was stiff and awkward as he sat in front of you at your favorite cafe with your two favorite coffee’s between you. In the back of your mind, you thought that Spencer reminded you of how he acted on your first date and you let the thought warm your heart just a little bit.

You shrugged and picked at the almond croissant in front of you, “I'm okay. Work has been keeping me busy and my sister got a new puppy. How's your arm?” You asked and nodded to his left bicep where a bullet wound was beginning to heal.

“It's fine, it's good. Doctor says it's healing like it's supposed to,” Spencer said and reached up to feel his shoulder absentmindedly. “Thank you for meeting me. I miss you and I know I have a lot to make up for, I just. I really wanted to see your face.”

You stopped a smile from showing but reached across the table to hold his free hand. “I missed you, too. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch more, but I needed some space to think and clear my head, you know?”

Spencer nodded and gave your hand a small squeeze, “Of course, it's okay. I did something really awful to you and… and I just feel terrible. I should have communicated with you and told you what was going on. I know if the roles were reversed, I'd be so freaked out not hearing from you for that long. I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you sighed and leaned back in your chair, “I understand that you were trying to protect me and everything, but I want to know these things, Spencer. I want to know if you're hurt or struggling, that's what being in a relationship is. We need to be able to rely on each other and be honest with each other. And I need to be able to trust you. Every time you leave for a case, there's a little worry that sits in my chest and tells me that it might be the last time I see you. The only way that feeling goes away is if you tell me what's going on and keep me in the loop.”

“You're right. Completely. That's why I got this,” Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of pagers, “You're the only person that will have the number to this. I'm gonna have it with me at all times, so if I'm on a case or my phone is dead or broken, I'll still have this with me. And if you page me, I'll answer. No matter what. If I'm in the field and I can't answer, I'll page you back and you'll know that I got it and I'll call you as soon as I can.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at besides being a genius, it was romantic gestures. The thought of using a pager made you want to laugh, but you looked at them sitting in his hands and it made your heart clench. Spencer really only answered work calls on his phone while he was on a case, and you'd grown used to only hearing from him once every day or two. You were used to sitting and waiting anxiously at the end of the day to make sure that he made it back to whatever hotel the BAU was at.

“Are you sure?” You asked softly and reached out to take one of the matching pagers and flip it over in your hands, “I know that you get busy at work. I don't want you to think that I'm being clingy or that I don't understand. I'm fine just hearing from you at the end of the day.”

Spencer shook his head and leaned across the table to kiss your cheek, “I don't think that at all. I don't want you to sit anxiously and feel like you can't call me or that I won't answer. I don't ever want you to feel like you did that week again. I never want to make you feel that way again, honey.”

You nodded slightly and slipped the pager into your purse. “I love you. And I forgive you, yeah? We’re okay,” you promised and after you threw your empty cups away, you pulled Spencer into a tight hug. He held you back just as tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You were back in your apartment the next day and Spencer kept his promise, he only ever made you feel secure and every time he left for a case, he made it back home to you.

[rockyourwrld]

Nikki and fem reader are dating and he gets jealous of her and a guns n roses member during a party, yk how it ends 🤭

JEALOUS

the after-party was guaranteed to be crazy if motley crue was throwing it tons of sex, drugs and booze, any and everything. no matter where you looked something had to be happening.

in one corner there were rockstars getting it on with groupies, in another was party goers sniffing up white snow, and then there was Me and Nikki. well there was Vince and Sharise, Tommy with a random chick, and Mick... he's somewhere around here.

I was sitting next to Nikki on one of the leather couches, his arm was wrapped around me, tight. it brought security for some reason, like he didn't want to let me go.

his eyes tell a different story when they get stuck on some random hooker he hasn't even talked to, let alone meet. suddenly we need another round of drinks which takes 10 minutes.

I know he's not fucking her, at least not with his dick but it still hurts just a bit. I usually stay and hang out with Sharise when this happens because he always comes back to me eventually.

But this time I didn't want to be a sitting duck, if he was gonna go talk and finger bang some stranger what's the harm in me going to talk to some guy I find attractive?

I went to the kitchen to get something strong, something that will really get me going. Nikki was nowhere in sight, bummer. I grabbed a glass and started to pour myself some whiskey when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

he had jet black curly hair, a sharp jaw, and a potent smell of cigarettes and cologne. wasn't too tall, at least not as tall as Nikki.

"I hope this isn't too out of line but you're absolutely gorgeous, are you here with anyone?" he had a soft, raspy voice. definitely not what I expected from him but it's still good.

"thank you, I'm uh here with motley crue." I pointed towards the corner where we were all sitting, Tommy was practically eating that girl's face off by now.

his face scrunches at the sight "oh yeah, crazy band" he looks back over at me, finally taking his glasses off. his eyes were very attractive, could almost get lost in them.

he extended his hand towards me "I'm slash, and you are?"

" it's y/n, nice to meet you slash"

once me and slash started talking I completely forgot about Nikki, he wasn't around asking for my attention anyways. Slash barely knew me for a whole 15 minutes and had seemed more interested in me than Nikki had in the past 10 months.

everything was going good, me and slash were chatting it up, he started getting a little touchy which I didn't mind. until I felt what I thought to be Nikki's presence, which was only confirmed when a pair of rough hands wrapped around my waist from behind me.

he nuzzled his head into my neck before leaving a few gentle kisses.

"do you want to introduce me to your friend?" he mumbled softly.

Nikki always got his way, whether it was with me or someone else he always got it. he could fuck hundreds of girls but if I dared to touch a guy..

I put my hands on his "you don't want to do that yourself?"

I feel him smile against my neck before getting both of us up and on our feet, his arms still wrapped around me.

"come on we gotta go" he begins to guide me out.

I give a quick smirk at slash "see you next time, yeah?"

he nods slightly, raising his cigarette before laying down on the couch. one leg thrown over, the other planted on the ground.

x

the ride home was long and dreadful, he barely said anything, just looked at me, smirk, and look back at the road. when I asked he would just shake his head and mumble a simple "nothing."

I just turned my head away from him and looked out the window, I hated guessing games. so I wasn't gonna play.

we got home and I was first out of the car, I wanted to be inside and in my bed as soon as possible. Nikki takes note of this, grabbing his house keys he bolts past me up the stairs, not forgetting to slap my ass on the way up, proceeds to dangle his keys and unlock the door.

I give a sarcastic smile "okay you win"

he smirks and opens the door

"after you" he's always been a gentleman no matter the situation, the emotion or the reaction. I'll give him that.

I walked through the door and he closed it fast and hard, I turned around a bit shocked when he suddenly pushed his lips into mine roughly.

his hands wrap around my neck, his thumbs brushing against my jaw slightly. then he abruptly pulled away, I looked at him confused. wasn't he just upset a minute ago?

"you know you're my baby right? no matter how many guys try to get you, you're still mine baby" he pulls me back in, kissing and sucking at my neck., his hands rest on my waist.

"I hate seeing you with other guys but fuck it is hot" he let's out in a mumble.

his hands start lifting my dress slowly, such a tease. his kisses start to move down from my neck, he starts kissing my chest before coming back up to meet my lips.

"seeing how you'll let them think they've got a chance, they think they can actually get you? shit it's fucking wicked how you work y/n"

he starts guiding me to the couch, of course the couch..the bed can't be his favorite place. he lays me down before climbing on top of me, his knee between my legs, his hands around my waist holding me down.

"let me show you what they can't do for you."

[emlos]

im so fucking conflicted man, like this is making me cry

[a-concert-just-for-me]

no yeah I’m getting def getting reassessed for adhd because this ain’t it, chief

[keeps-ache]

goin to the library, library time woohoo !!

[trans-leek-cookie]

post. Post-posting clarity where you're like "wtf was I talking about". But also post-posting confusion where you're also like "wtf was I talking about" but it's less about your mental state While Posting and more about "okay. I've written many words. I remember. Approximately 20% of them. What the fuck are the rest of these?"

[finneander]

when you're trying to fix your sleep schedule and go to sleep at normal times especially when you've got a (comparatively) early train to take in a couple days before you usually wake up but you need to stay up late because you just HAVE to draw an idea you just got

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[madegeeky]

BLOOD IT WILL TAKE BLOOD day 17: face mask with spatula/brush thing. (I just realized that I didn't take a pic to show it, but the bumpy end? On the other side actually has a short bristled silicone brush on it.)

I'm so not a face mask person (with one exception) and so I'm going to give this to my sister who loves them. Although the spatula looks like a weird addition, my sister assures me that it's really nice because a lot of these mud masks you have to mix up and this one includes a tool for that which she loves.

[girlygguk]

NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 4 of 6

pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader

genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, spirited extro gf x soft angel bf, jk comes home w oc for the holidays, he’s so soft and shy, until he isn’t oop, i triedd w the context but this rlly is just oc getting the xmas dicking she deserves, kissing, cursing, switchy soft dom jk, giddy subby oc, they try to keep quiet, keyword try, dirty talk, cunnilingus, jk's a munch, condomless p in v sex, oc on pill, creampie, they're literal angels & i would die for them

word count 4.8k

banner by the gorgeously gifted @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

“My mom loves you.”

“You think?” Jungkook’s lips tilt into a soft smile, his hand warm and steady as it glides over your thigh, draped comfortably across his waist. “She’s amazing. I see her in you a lot.”

Your nose scrunches as you smile softly into the curve of his arm, your fingers absently tracing along his chest. When your nails graze over his nipple, you feel it perk up under your touch, and you can’t resist pressing a light kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

“You’re so easy to love, baby,” you murmur, your voice muffled slightly against his arm. But you know he hears you from the way his chest rises and falls a little faster, betraying the quiet effect you always have on him. “Had me whipped from the first time I saw you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows cutely, the same expression he always makes when you say this. He never quite believes it, even now. You can tell he’s picturing that day—how you noticed him tucked into the back of the freshman seminar, seated in a corner with his laptop angled slightly, like a shield in case someone dared to take the empty seat beside him.

That someone had been you.

Coming to Seoul for university had been a big deal—not just for you, but for your family and everyone back home in Namhae-gun who’d cheered you on. You weren’t naturally gifted in academics the way your boyfriend was, but you worked hard, just like he did. You’d taken every extra shift you could at your local little grocer, worked the after-school care program at Sannie’s elementary school, and with some help from your mom and stepdad, you pieced together what your scholarship didn’t cover.

With that, you packed your clothes and favorite trinkets from your childhood bedroom, said goodbye to your family and the friends you’d known your whole life, and set off for the big, bright Seoul city.

It was bittersweet. Namhae-gun had been your whole world, but Seoul was your dream. And now, as you looked at Jungkook beside you, his pretty face soft in the dim light of your room, you realized he was now your new both. Your world and your dream. Your present and your future.

You still talked to your best friends, Lila and Jimin, nearly every night over FaceTime, Jungkook joining most times. He’d been so adorably shy the first time they demanded to meet him, visibly nervous they wouldn’t like him. It still baffled you sometimes, how he could think that way. How he didn’t see himself the way you did.

Because, in your eyes, he was everything. The cutest, dorkiest, sexiest nerd you’d ever met—you’d kill for him. You knew Lila and Jimin would fall for him too. And they did.

Your extroverted best friends even begged him for his socials, which he shyly handed over, his cheeks pink as he spoke out his handles. He almost choked on his own saliva when Lila let out the loudest moan mid-call, suddenly thrusting her iPad at the screen to show his latest post. It was a photo of the two of you at the beach—you, in a little multicolored bikini holding the camera out, and Jungkook with his big, wet chest on full, bare display beside you.

You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement at her thirsting over your handsome boyfriend, cupping the side of his burning face as he ducked his head into your neck. His linked arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you nestled in his lap.

“Angel?” he murmured quietly into your neck. “Why would she say t-that?”

The disappointment—and maybe even slight annoyance—in his pouty tone made you want to slam your laptop shut and take him as far down your throat as you could. Instead, you’d cooed softly, turning your head to kiss his warm cheek and whispering in his ear that she was, in fact, a raging lesbian.

“Oh,” he whispered back, tickling your skin. “Okay.” His pout relaxed, and you felt the softest, relieved little smile on his lips against your neck.

You had bitten back a moan of your own at how much that turned you on, turning to pepper his round cheek with a hundred kisses until his blush faded and the corners of his lips tugged into a cute little bunny grin. You smiled fondly at the memory of Jimin groaning dramatically while Lila yelled at you to go lower.

“Your stepdad asked me to join him for golf tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s soft, nervous voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hum in surprise and beam up at him, fingers brushing lightly along his tummy. “Really? Oh, baby, that’s so great. Are you going to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. His throat bobs as he glances down at you, your cheek now pressed against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist, fingers curling gently into your soft skin. “Would you… would you like to come?”

You coo softly, nodding as your lips brush the curve of his collarbone. “If you want me to, honey,” you murmur, your mouth pressing a little kiss to his pebbled nipple. His chest stutters with a throaty breath, and you grin against his skin. “I’d love to.”

“Always want you to come with me, baby,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as you tilt your head, lips wrapping softly around the bud. Your gaze drifts up lazily to his beautiful face, his eyes already half-lidded. “E-everywhere I go. Wish I could take you.”

“Mmm.” The hum vibrates against his chest as your hand slides up to scratch lightly over his other nipple, your teeth grazing over the one caught between your lips. His hips shift beneath you, his breath catching as his pants pick up. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my love."

Jungkook tries to stifle the whine rising in his throat, but it slips out anyway, soft and desperate, when your teeth scrape just a little harder over his nipple. His fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter.

“Ahh,” he heaves under his breath, his head lolling softly into the pillow. “Baby, we-we can’t.”

You hum, brow arching slightly in amused defiance. “And why is that, honey?” Your lips brush over both of his nipples, one flushed red and swollen from your mouth, the other stiff and sensitive from your nails.

“B-because,” he stammers, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch you tossing the blanket off your waists and shifting to straddle his lap. His breath hitches as your thighs settle around him, your body hovering prettily above his. He swallows hard, his focus slipping as he tries to gather himself. “Your parents, angel. What if they—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, your palms flattening against his chest as you lean in to steal his breath. His exhale trembles through his nose, and he lets out a desperate mewl when he tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips. You pull back just enough to keep him chasing you.

“Their room’s on the other side of the house, my darling,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and sweet. “So is Sannie’s. Nobody’s gonna hear your cute little noises.”

Jungkook flushes a deep pink at that, his pout immediate and utterly adorable. You dissolve into giggles, your nose brushing his as he huffs. He doesn’t correct you, though. He knows better and so do you. You’re always the one who can’t stay quiet during sex, no matter how much he whispers please, baby, they’re gonna hear us against your skin.

The thought makes your heart race. Sometimes you still can’t believe he was a virgin before you. Not with the way he fucks. Sweet and shy as he is, Jeon Jungkook turns into something else entirely when he’s inside you.

Your first time together had been soft and clumsy and perfect. Tucked into the covers of his dorm bed while his roommate Taehyung spent the night at his girlfriend’s place. He’d asked if you were okay a hundred times, his hands shaking against your skin as he moved so carefully, so sweetly. You’d never felt more loved.

But the second time?

Once he stopped asking if you were alright every thirty seconds, once he started trusting you when you told him you fucking loved it and to keep going, he went.

Oh, how he fucking went.

That second night, your own roommate had come back early—earlier than she said she would—and screamed the moment she opened the door. She’d walked in to find your shy, soft-spoken, nerdy boyfriend fucking you raw from behind on your bed, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted you back and forth on his cock, your makeup-smeared face buried in the pillow, your throat raw from begging.

“We’ll be quiet,” you lie softly against his mouth, your lips brushing his as you lean back down, rolling your hips over his stiffening cock. The thin fabric of your Christmas pajama shorts drags over his matching pants, the friction making him shudder beneath you. “Haven’t fucked me since yesterday morning, baby,” you pout, leaning up with a little huff, bouncing brattily in his lap. “You hate me.”

“D-don’t ever say that again, baby,” he husks, his voice so fucking low as you begin to grind your slickening core against him. “Love you more than life itself.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, your tone turning smug, satisfied. You drag yourself along the length of him again, slow and pointed, humming at the way he twitches beneath you. Leaning down, you hover just over his parted lips, so close your breaths mingle. “You love me that much, baby?”

He’s fighting it—you can see it. The way his jaw tightens, his brows knitting. His throat works around a sound he’s determined to swallow. His resolve is wavering. His control crumbling—or crumbled, he doesn't fucking know—as you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you seeping through the fabric between you.

“That mu-much, baby,” he chokes out, his voice strained. His long fingers dig gently into the soft flesh of your waist, guiding you as you move against him, his grip both a plea and a surrender all at once.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smile against his as you grind yourself back and forth with just a bit more pressure. You feel the way his breath hitches, the way his resistance falters. He knows he’s already lost.

And you know it too when his big hands slide under the hem of your little green singlet, patterned with tiny reindeers and snowflakes, gripping your hips firmly before flipping you both over.

Your big eyes blink up at him, maybe a little too giddy, as he hovers above you. He shakes his head softly, his bunny nose twitching, and then leans down to take the kind of kiss he’s been craving all day.

The kind of kiss he’s wanted since dinner, when your parents were fawning over him between bites of food, praising him for everything from his sweet nature to his thoughtful gift for San.

The one he hasn’t had a chance to steal since he was sitting nervously beside you on the living room couch, watching your baby brother open the limited-edition Iron Man figure Jungkook had picked out just for him. Sannie had sprinted up to your boyfriend, his tiny arms wrapping around him, hugging him so tight and calling him the best hyungie he’s ever had.

And, yeah, okay, maybe he cried a little.

It’s the first time all day he’s had you to himself, the first time since yesterday afternoon. The afternoon he’d spent with you in the communal kitchen at your college, baking the Christmas tree-shaped cookies you’d brought home for your family in a big container.

The same cookies he had snuck an extra one to Sannie, even when you told your little brother no more after two. He couldn't help it, folding instantly when the adorable kid tugged on his sleeve with those big, pleading eyes—the ones that reminded him a little too much of you.

Jungkook thought you hadn’t noticed, but of course you did. You’d stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your gentle giant boyfriend snuck two cookies from the container and handed one to San, his lips twitching with a soft laugh when your brother shoved the whole thing into his mouth like Jungkook might change his mind and take it back.

The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tongue pulls him back to the present, and he lets out a breathy groan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you tug his warm, solid weight down into you, relishing in having him pressed so heavily against you.

“Needa be quiet, baby,” he says, his voice low and breathy, maybe even a little whiny as he pulls away reluctantly. “C-can’t have your dad hearing us. I won’t be able to play golf with him tomorrow if I can’t look him in the eye.”

You hum as your lips chase his, dazed and unbothered. “You hate golf,” you murmur absently, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing soft, hot skin. Then your tongue slips past his lips again.

He lets out something between a grunt and a laugh, his resistance melting away as his big tongue laps against yours. You taste the faint trace of toothpaste as you kiss him deeper, chasing every last hint of it, your body tingling as you take his tongue further into your mouth.

It’s no surprise that he’s already fully hard, just like it’s no surprise that you’re already fucking drenched. His stiff cock presses down against your stomach, and your hips buck instinctively at the feeling, a mewly moan spilling from your lips without care.

His hand slides up from your waist to wrap gently around your throat, and your brows furrow in pleased anticipation through closed eyes, silently hoping he’ll squeeze harder. He does, in a way, his fingers pressing softly against the sides of your neck, enough to make your head spin. The kiss slows as he pulls back slightly, leaving you pouty and blinking up at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his soft lips slightly swollen, his big, gorgeous nose marked faintly on the bridge from where his glasses had rested earlier. He looks down at you before speaking, his voice reluctant, heavy with the words he feels he has to say.

“Quiet, please, angel.”

You lick your lips, trying to chase more of his taste. “Okay, cutie,” you say with a sweet smile, nodding softly as you gaze up at him. “I’ll be quiet.”

His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, as if he’s doing the same as you, before he smiles knowingly. “Liar.”

He’s back on your mouth, his fingers still brushing softly over your throat as his lips capture yours again. This time, he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking in a way that’s both soft and firm, pulling wet, breathy pants from you chest. Your ankles tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s not even any fucking space between you, but you're not a quitter, grinding pathetically up into him, hips searching for the angle you need.

And then you find it.

“mmmM,” you whine as his hard, covered cock presses perfectly through your pussy lips.

Jungkook groans low into your mouth at the feeling, his lips and tongue moving with messily with yours. He’s devouring you, the wet, sticky sounds of your kissing filling the room as you grind yourself shamelessly against him. The friction is heavy, perfect as his cock is stiff and hot beneath the thin barrier of his pajama pants. Your hips move instinctively, searching for more, harder, faster, anything to ease the ache between your legs.

His hand tightens around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep your head swimming. His lips break from yours with a slick little pop, leaving your lips humming and eyes hazy as they meet his flushed face. His eyes are wide and wet as his grip on your neck loosens, trailing down to your waist.

“Needa taste it, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked as he slips lower, dragging his big frame down the bed. “Please baby? Need to taste you.”

The words make your head spin, and you breathing out a pleading god yes baby as his hands grip the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one motion. The cool air against your slick heat makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his big tongue licking a fat stripe right up your drippy folds.

“Baby—fuckk,” you breathe, your thighs trembling as his mouth works into you. He’s messy with it, always is, his tongue dipping inside your hole, then dragging back up to swivel around your clit. His big nose presses against you as he eats, throat humming and brows furrowing like they always do when he tastes a really good dish.

He pulls back just enough to breathe out, “S-so yummy, baby. I love it. Love it so fucking much.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking it between his lips and humming dirtily, making your hips jerk up into his face.

“Hahhh,” you whimper, your voice high and dumb as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue flicks even faster. “Shit, Jung- baby, uuh—”

Jungkook moans into your pussy, the sound high-pitched and needy, vibrating against your soppy heat. His jaw drops as he pushes in deeper, taking your whole pussy into his big mouth, completely forgetting the need for either of you to shut the fuck up. You’re dripping everywhere, your slick coating his lips and chin, and he laps it all up like an eager dog, his hands gripping your plushy thighs to keep you spread wide.

He lifts his head just long enough to suck in a breath before gathering a thick pool of spit in his mouth. He leans back down, face burying between your legs, and lets the saliva drool onto your folds before dragging his tongue through the mess, licking and lapping it all back up greedily.

Your body writhes under him, your head sinking back into the pillow as one hand fists tighter in his hair and the other grips the sheets desperately. Your mind reels, fragments of random thoughts flashing through it—the curve of the statue of liberty, the lucky quarter you found on your walk with him in the city, the moment you first kissed. Everything and nothing blurs together and you realize with a hum that your life is flashing right before your fucking eyes.

You’re trembling, vibrating against the bed, choking on the little noises slipping from your lips. Another uh. And another. And another.

“God, baby. That’s— uh, fuck. So fucking good. Eat your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook whimpers into you, his voice muffled by your cunt as his head follows the desperate rut of your hips. You buck against his mouth, but his hands hold you down, his tongue relentless. “My pussy,” he breathes against your folds, the words so adorably possessive. “It’s my pussy, baby.”

“That's r-right,” you gasp, your head lifting weakly to meet the sight of him—his face filthy, drenched, his mouth and nose buried in your heat as he tongue fucks your cunt like it's his last day on earth. “Your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook groans against you, wet and desperate, his hips shifting against the mattress as he thrusts into nothing, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He knows he’s close—so close that it’s embarrassing. He can feel himself leaking through the fabric, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming right there in his pajama pants.

And you know it too. So you beg.

"Please, baby. Wanna cum with you, Kookie... Please."

His face morphs into a little pout as he slows, pulling away from his meal reluctantly, tongue flicking one last time at your puffy folds before his hands leave your thighs. He’s panting as he climbs back up your body, unable to deny you anything in the world, lips and chin glistening with your slick.

You smile at his wet face, your hands slipping up into his messy curls as you tug him down for a kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue is heady, dizzying, and you let out a little moan as you suck every last bit of it from his mouth. Jungkook groans into it, the sound so low that it almost resembles a cute little growl.

When you pull back, giving his swollen, red pout one last kiss, your gaze flickers down to his hand rubbing over his painfully hard cock. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing back up to meet his as you blink, waiting patiently.

He licks his lips, leaning down for one more quick kiss as his fingers fumble at his waistband. There’s a soft shuffle, and then his cock is free, flushed and heavy in his hand as he slides it against your slick folds. Your breath catches as he lines himself up, his hooded gaze locked on yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He doesn’t need to look. His cock presses into you with an ease that has you keening, the thick head stretching you open as he pushes in. You feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, feeding you more and more until your nails dig into his shoulders. The burn makes your jaw fall open, your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice breaking as he bottoms out. “It’s so warm, baby—”

You’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him as he starts to move, pulling out all the way before sinking right back in. “So big, Jungkookie,” you whimper, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “F-fuck, I love your dick so much.”

“Yeah?”

There it fucking is.

“You love it, baby? Love this fucking cock, baby?” he rasps, his hips snapping harder now, the loud, wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room.

“It’s yours.” Slap. “Your fucking cock.” Slap. “Will always be your fucking cock.”

Your pussy clamps around him, eyes rolling back as choked fucks spill from your lips. You can’t answer, your voice lost to your moans, your body arching into his as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside that makes your vision blur. You barely register the slam of the headboard against the wall, too cock-drunk to care as he presses a big hand to your belly.

“Feel that?” he growls, his palm firm against your abdomen. “Feel me, baby? Fucking up inside of you right here?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “Oh my god, yes, yes—”

His other hand slides up your body, under your singlet to find your nipple and roll it between his fingers. The sensation makes you jerk against him, your cries spilling freely now. “So loud,” he mutters, though his lips quirk like he’s fucking proud of it. “God, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?”

He knows you love it when he talks to you like this. You’ve told him so more than once. He didn’t know how he felt about it at first, but when it had you cumming harder, whining more, it wasn’t really a choice anymore. He’d do anything to make you feel like that, give you anything you wanted.

You don’t have a chance to respond—not coherently, at least. His thumb drags from your hip, slipping down to your swollen, throbbing clit. He rubs big, messy, wet circles over the sensitive nub, and your vision shakes as you feel it coming.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans when you let out that shaky little noise and that trembling clench you always do when you’re about to cum. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum on your cock, baby.”

Yes. Yes.

“Yes!” you scream, your body seizing up, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cry out, your hands slipping from his hair, nails raking down his bare back as you orgasm. “Baby, uh—fuck!”

He doesn’t slow, his hips pounding into you as his own release builds. “G-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, his thrusts erratic now. “Fuckkkk, baby, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimper the only word you seem to know. “Wannit so bad, Kookie.” You slur, voice breaking as he keeps fucking into you like a fleshlight. “Wanna feel your cum fill up my fucking pussy, baby, g-g-godddd.”

He shudders above you, his hips snapping hard with one long, deep thrust as he chokes out a cuumming, baby before spilling into you, his deep moan vibrating through your bedroom.

His thumb doesn’t stop.

He’s panting hard, hips fucking in and out of your leaking hole while you milk every last drop of sticky cum from his softening cock. “Come on, angel, gimmie one more, please. Please, angel.”

He’s pleading. You’re dying. Your body is convulsing, clenching and squeezing around his cock, somehow pulling even more of his load when he thought he had no more left to fucking give.

“One more, baby. That’s it. That’s it. There we go.”

Your eyes roll back, the dirtiest moan tearing from your throat as you squeal and shake around his cock. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. He works you through it, rocks you through it, pushing his hips flush against yours so the head of his cock bulges and pulses against your g-spot, spelling his name on your clit with his thumb while you give him one fucking more.

Your chest heaves as your body trembles beneath him, your hands clutching weakly around his sides. Jungkook’s hips still, his cock twitching inside you as he breathes heavily, his forehead pressing softly against yours. He lifts his thumb from your clit, panting, and brings it to his lips without thinking, sucking your slick from his finger.

When he pulls it free, his eyes blink open, dazed and drunk. “I-I can’t believe we did that,” he chokes out. “We were so loud.”

You giggle softly, batting his hand away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down until his weight sinks against you. “Babyyy,” he groans in protest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna squish you.”

You grumble, your legs locking around his waist again, keeping him firmly in place. His softening cock shifts slightly inside you, and you hum contentedly. “You’re fine, my love. Perfect.”

He lets out a grumpy little whine before conceeding and resting his head in the crook of your neck. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours, his body still trembling faintly.

“It really is okay, though, baby,” you say, stroking his damp hair with one hand while your other rubs little circles over his back. “My mom and Sang-cheol are very sex positive.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens in your hold. “Angel, noo.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shrugging innocently. “What? They are.”

His face burns even redder as he rubs his nose into your neck. “It’s gonna be so awkward tomorrow,” he mumbles.

You snicker, drumming his bare bum with your feet. “It’s fine, baby. I didn’t pack any golf attire by the way, so we’ll needa go to the mall in the morning. You can help me pick out a slutty little sport skirt.”

His head lifts just slightly and you swear his ears perk up like a bunny. “Okay,” he says softly, cheeks still pink. “I’d like that.”

You giggle, the sound muffled as you press a kiss to his warm cheek. “God, you’re so cute, baby.”

His lips quirk into a shy grin, his doe eyes blinking down at you. “I love you,” he whispers. “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Your chest tightens, and your brows furrow as you whine softly at his sweetness. “I love you too, my sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands to press another kiss to his pout. “So much.”

His smile is soft, glowing, as he nestles back into your neck. His bare chest is warm against you, the two of you sinking into a quiet, content stillness. Your fingers brush through the damp hair at the base of his neck, his breathing evening out as your heartbeats sync.

“Angel?” His voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, my love?” you hum sleepily.

“I-I’m hard again.”

merry 23rd my darlings !! i hope you’re all having the best holidays so far, and thank u so much for all the overwhelming love and support on this silly willy journey of ours 💋 i’m sure you’ve already checked out december, but if you haven’t yet, PLEASEEE do — i swear to fuck u won’t regret it. the biggest thank u again from lovie and me, we appreciate you all endlessly 🩷🩷 see you on the 25th!! mwwwah -lyssa <3