#Is Cat Spray Dangerous

[cheebuss]

[click for details] The council (poll) has spoken with a clear winner! and here they are! Pyro warrior cat >:D!!

Probably the most difficult one yet, but I had a lot of fun trying to problem solve how to design them in a way that still maintained their anonymity

Image text below cut:

Always have flowers in their pelts!

Covered in thick mud constantly (they like it :] dries a bit near rear.)

"Mask" is a trash bag and plastic bottle with a wet rag inside (made by their respective Engineers.)

"Flamethrower" is an ignited stick covered in pine resin.

In battle, either Pyro will take a mouthful of a mixture made from prey's fatty oils and tree sap and spray it on their breath onto the ignited stick while aiming with their tail (think a fire breather.)

[cats-obsessions]

🍇🍍🍻 ^-^

:)

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

When he decides/realizes he actually cares about someone at all, he cares 100%. There’s no in between. He’s definitely protective and the ‘only I get to bully them’ type. It’s very important to him to make his friends happy. He tries to pay close attention to their likes and dislikes. So, he approaches them differently depending on the boundaries they set. Like being more chaotic with immren or more thoughtful about touch with Maidris or more sarcastic/bitchy (affectionately) with Maeve hahaha his dynamic mostly comes off as somewhere between ‘will do any stupid thing they want if it’s fun’ and doing his best to take care of or look out for them

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

Definitely at home! He feels safest in the semi-peacefulness of home, but with Maidris and Immren he also knows he’s not totally alone which is comforting.

Beers cheers answered here

[icedteaandoldlace]

Just had the worst litter box cleaning experience of my life, but by the grace of God and the wonderful scientists at Nature's Miracle, it didn't take as long as it could have. I wish I remembered what brand of litter that was, because I don't often leave product reviews, but it should be illegal to make a cat litter that bad. Had a thick layer of crystallized litter/urine caked onto the bottom of the litter box that WOULD NOT budge for anything and smelled to high heaven. I only bought it in the first place because I thought McGonagall was peeing outside of the litter box in protest of the new (and far superior) litter, so I'd started looking for a new go-to litter again (McGonagall just had a minor bacterial infection, and a week on antibiotics cleared it up straight away).

Thankfully I only bought one bad of the cursed stuff, because not only does it have BY FAR the worst clumping function I've ever seen, but it does basically nothing for odor control, and it's WHITE so the litter box looks extra gross when it's been used because you can see the yellow of the urine.

Even with the help of Nature's Miracle—the aptly named enzymatic foaming litter box cleaner that has made my life so much easier in many ways, and no one is paying me to say that—I still had to use the litter box scoop to scrape all that mess off the bottom. Usually all I have to do is wipe the box, MAYBE scrub just a little bit on really stubborn spots, but never have I ever had to clean a litter box like this before. It was also the first time I ever had to spray the box down again a second time after I'd already cleaned it out, because the residual smell still on it was just so foul.

A million stars to Nature's Miracle, and a big fat negative zero to whatever the hell that horrendous litter brand was. Negative zero isn't even a real number, THAT'S how bad it is.

[yoshistory]

i think in the new place im going to get a little night light that im going to wall-mount special on an outlet cause these night terrors are getting pretty fucking severe and constant

[thehmn]

Does it seem weird that people treat cats like they’re wild animals to anyone else? And by that I don’t mean people expect cats to survive on their own in the wild. I mean people act like pet cats who have owners are wild animals that the owners aren’t responsible for. And I’m not talking about cat owners specifically. A lot of people who doesn’t have any pets at all act like cats are wild animals (which might be why so many people treat them like wild animals that can be hurt with no consequences)

I never thought about that until a few years ago when someone in the town Facebook group asked who owned a cat that kept jumping in through his windows. It was summer so he couldn’t keep his windows closed (we don’t use air conditioning in this country) and he had a terrible allergy to cats so it was legit dangerous for him to have a cat running around his house.

People started offering solutions like “buy this spray that deters cats” and “you can buy this rolling thing for the top of your fence” but his response was “Okay but why am I expected to spend all this money to keep someone’s pet out? Who owns this cat!?” When he didn’t get an answer he eventually got a friend to pick the cat up when it was in his house and he drove it to a shelter, and informed the Facebook group which shelter. Suddenly the owner responded, angry that he’d do such a thing! Getting the cat back would cost money! But the guy was like where the fuck were you when I asked who the cat belonged to!? I was trying to avoid this!

I was honestly surprised by how many people were on the side of the cat’s owner. Another cat owner on our street isn’t responsible enough to keep her cat indoors but responsible enough to at least buy stuff for other people if her cats bother them. She practically have a small stach of cat deterrent spray she hands out to the neighbors who doesn’t want cats in their garden.

The whole thing really made me realize how strange it is that cats are the only pets where we expect other people to spend their money on building fences to keep them out instead of the owners trying to keep them in, as if they were wild animals with no owner to look after them.

[sky-scribbles]

Thinking about Gale's spellbook.

Not the old one, the one he carried when he was Gale, the Wizard of Waterdeep - a gorgeous, leather-and-silver bound thing that bulged with a lifetime's worth of accumulated knowledge. There were spells in there penned over wine and cheese with Elminster; in a flow state that bordered on the spiritual after a night with Mystra, remembering her instruction, the feel of her soul against his. That spellbook was the testament to his success, the proof that he had excelled beyond the excellent -

And then Mystra cut him off from the Weave, and it all become meaningless.

His own runes, rendered incomprehensible; beautiful spell-glyphs that turned from condensed power and knowledge to worthless pieces of art. He has to start anew, from the ground up - reforging his connection to the Weave without Mystra's guidance (without her, without), relearning schoolboy spells. Humiliatingly easy magic, the kind he used to do like it was breathing, except this time he has to study and work and try and try, Tara urging him on with firm but gentle words.

He learns different spells, now. Mage Armour, Shield, Magic Missile. Not the kind of spells that he'll ever need on a day-to-day basis; spells that'll keep him alive long enough when he makes an exodus to the depths of the Underdark, or the centre of some desert wastes, and goes supernova.

The new spellbook is a plainer thing, small enough to fit in a robe pocket (because extradimensional storage spaces are no longer things he can make with a thought). And then he's snatched by a Nautiloid, and... honestly, he'd swear that the spine just wants to hold onto blood-spatters, no matter how many times he cleans them out. The pages get spotted from all the times he's had to flick them open in driving rain; the corners get creased from being shoved in and out of his robes.

And absolutely nothing can protect it from the unstoppable force of his friends.

Karlach nearly sends the whole thing up in flames one night by gesticulating a bit too wildly. Wyll laughs too hard one night and sprays wine all over Gale's new notes on Abjuration. Scratch picks up the entire thing and runs off with it when Gale's back is foolishly turned, and it's only a stern talking-to from Halsin that saves the whole thing from becoming a chew toy.

Smiley cat faces, doodled on the pages in Yenna's untidy hand. A helpful comment from Karlach on the Fireball page: 'AKA FUCK YEAH LET'S GO!!!!' A few lines of Wyll's perfect handwriting, a memento from a long discussion about how infernal energies could enhance fire magic; a few observations from Shadowheart on warding enchantments. Some terse comments on psionic magic from Lae'zel that Gale finds himself weaving into his Shields, and they do seem to hold up a little better now. (Other hands on his spellbook! Touching the pages he carries close to his heart! The man he was would never have believed it.)

He thinks of them all, as he writes new spells. Counterspell, because nothing will touch them. Spells that will carry his people from danger and shield them from harm. He watches Astarion pace before the fire one night and inscribes Sunbeam with a cold smile of promise to Cazador; he glowers at Mizora over the edge of the pages as he ponders what spells would be best suited to killing a devil.

A wizard's spellbook, Elminster told him once, is a reflection of their soul. Gale of Waterdeep's spellbook was a marvel; perfect and polished and resplendant. Untouched by any hands but his own.

Gale Dekarios's spellbook is battered and beloved, covered on every page with the fingerprints of his friends.

[everything-is-crab]

Goose the Cat only increases my love for ginger kitties 💜💜

[highvern]

Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care. 

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth. 

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.” 

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless. 

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.” 

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream. 

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using. 

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.” 

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says. 

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want. 

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand. 

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.” 

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses. 

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.” 

��Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time. 

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.” 

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting. 

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious. 

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing. 

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence. 

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?” 

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise. 

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit. 

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—" 

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly. 

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg. 

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth. 

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard. 

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure. 

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt. 

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will. 

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips. 

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling. 

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb. 

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

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[cipheramnesia]

If I was gonna do a YA novel, I think the way I'd introduce my protagonist is like she's breaking into the school at night, because she's going to prank the classroom of this science teacher everyone hates, right? So she's all set, but then she discovers the guy is still in the classroom. And normally he's just this very curt, strict teacher, but now he's in there with candles burning in red light and esoteric patterns on the floor. So she backs out and trips over a trashcan, then next thing she knows his whole face and body are splitting open into some horrible, fluid covered monster which starts to come at her.

What ensues is a cat & mouse mixup of Home Alone / Predator with the protagonist barely more than one step ahead of a slavering monster, and constantly having to improvise traps and weapons and distractions as she tries to escape, ending with a final showdown in the gymnasium where she's able to use gym equiment to deal it a lethal blow. Anyway, science teacher monster is laying on the floor in his own spreading blood and with his last breath he says something like, "there are monsters here, please be careful," and dies, and that's when our protagonist realizes she's actually spent half the night running from things mich more dangerous than her science teacher, indescribable extradimensional horrors which pack their monstrous form inside a flesh sac to look human during the day, while at night and other times they shed their skin to hunt new victims, or to slowly turn the school itself into the beachhead of their nightmare world.

I would call it Nikki Clayton, 8th Grade Monster hunter. It's just her, a machete with exchantes runes painted on it, and a backpack full of spray paint against the world.

[januaryembrs]

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [10]

description: the one with Cat Adams + the one where she tells him.

length: 13k

warnings: literally just watch 11x11, mention of vomit, blood, alcoholism. mention of pregnant wives??

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‘who’s afraid of little old me?

you should be,’

She remembered when she was little when she would wake up so early even the birds hadn’t uttered a morning chirp, her stomach grumbling because she usually hated the fancy stuff they had for dinner and ended up leaving it on her plate. She remembered thinking her mother would be no use, that Elizabeth would tell her to go straight back to bed, even if she whined and cried that she wanted breakfast, remembered thinking Louise, the au pair that usually took the morning shift, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so, and she certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach the cabinets yet. 

Which left her with Emily. 

Nineteen year old Emily, who was already in and out of the house with college, her hair a box dyed black, singed from all the crimping and hair spray. Emily, who liked to take her to the park even if she pretended she was too old, who played Barbies with her and helped her cut all their hair off probably because she figured that was better than her constant urge to do whacky things with her own locks. Emily, who had never wanted a little sister really until Elizabeth had brought home the carrier and suddenly she had never loved ten chubby fingers and toes so much.

She remembered waking Emily up, usually by pulling herself up onto her sister’s Mötley Crüe themed bedding and prodding at the girl’s shoulder until she stirred, how Emily would lead her down the long, ornate hallway into the kitchen, when the only sound in the house would be their bare feet padding along the cold tiles. How Emily would yank two bowls out of the cupboard, tipping a generous dose of coco pops in each of them, back when they were full of sugar and real chocolate, not the healthy crap they sold nowadays. 

It would just be the two of them at the breakfast table, crunching on their spoons, five year old Bugsy no doubt dribbling the brown milk down her chin and pyjama top, but she was happy. Because she had her big sister.

She stared down at the dregs of cocoa that whirled into the white milk as the cereal sat there longer, because she was only picking at it really, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was almost certain they had changed the recipe since she was little. 

“I was thinking,” She said after a moment or so, while Spencer pottered around the kitchen, fixing them both a pot of coffee that she usually was usually bouncing over to grab at this point in the morning. Except today she felt sluggish, lost in that maze of thoughts that only Spencer could really unpick, and the second she’d started speaking his head whipped over the counter to where she idly stirred her breakfast, “About what you said when Gideon… We could probably afford to start looking at buying a house soon, what with the mortgage rates dropping,” 

She looked up at him hopefully, hoping he couldn’t sense the hesitation on her breath because he usually knew what she was thinking before she said anything, and for once she wished he didn’t have that crazy ability to read her mind, only to see him with a small if not saddened smile. 

When Gideon had passed, Spencer had gotten in his head that they needed to leave the apartment, that if the Jason Gideon could have been caught unaware, then they weren’t safe either. Of course he hadn’t meant it, at least not entirely, but Gideon passing had spun the logic half of his brain that spouted the statistics that they were no more in danger now than they were before he’d gone, but still it was something he’d been thinking about. A house meant more space; more space meant they could stop tripping over each other's laundry, meant they could get the bigger shower they’d always talked about, maybe even a tub. A house meant the garden he knew he always wanted Niko and Sergio to have now they were grey around the whiskers and couldn’t run so fast. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Spencer said, picking up their mugs of steaming hot goodness and carefully stepping towards her, gently sliding the drink over to her as the liquid sloshed and threatened to dip over the edge, “Is there any place you want to look?” 

He left his own mug in favour of circling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a soft hug, her head falling beneath his chin where she sat on the barstool. 

Kissing her hairline gently, she heard him inhale her shampoo scent, and she plonked her spoon back in the bowl to wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing herself into every crevice that they weren’t already touching. 

“I don’t care,” She said, tilting her head to look up at him with love sick eyes, only to see him already besottedly gazing at her, and she guessed by the way his lips draw up at the corners that he didn’t realise he was still smiling, “Anywhere with you is good enough for me,” 

He looked down at her in that way he usually did, expression soft and sweet and entranced, but she saw the traces of worry in his gaze, “You feeling okay? Today is going to be… hard,” 

Bugsy’s expression faltered slightly, and she turned away to push her face into his stomach so he wouldn’t see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She nodded anyway, even though she knew he would catch her in the lie.

After Scratch, Hotch had ordered her to take three months off for a psych evaluation, had granted Spencer at least a month of holiday to watch over her because he knew Reid’s head would be all over the place with worry if he’d returned to work without her. It was like asking Garcia to leave her computers and fluffy pens at home; it just wouldn’t work. 

By the time she was cleared to come back, despite the recurring nightmares of that day still eating away at her sleep, Hotch had set her up to work solely from the office, strictly no field work.

He liked to think it was for her own safety, for her own good since he saw the way she pounded coffee like it was juice while Spencer lingered around her with a worried stare. But if he had to be honest with himself, Hotch couldn’t get away from the things Scratch had made him see just as much as she couldn’t. He couldn’t escape seeing her throat slit like she was a lamb for slaughter, the life leaving her eyes as she faded away. And it was the thought of her carotid artery spraying over his boots that made him want to lock her up in bubble wrap and never let her go. 

But that was feasible in their job, not really. So desk duty it was. 

“You don’t have to go with us into the field, you can always stay with Hotch and Garcia,” He offered, stroking her hair behind her ear and tempting her to look back up at him with gentle fingertips under her chin, and when she saw the unease in the muddy hues, she squeezed him tighter, knowing the past five months had been just as hard on him. 

“No, I want to,” She protested gently, her hands weaselling under his shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of his back, pawing at him like a cat trying to settle. “If you’re being made this woman’s number one target, I want to be there on stand by,” 

And he couldn’t really argue. Because no matter what frame of mind he was in, even if it had been him captured and tortured, he would never let her go out as bait and not be there breathing down her neck. 

He sighed, the urge to protest stuck in his throat and all he could think to do was bring his lips to hers gently in a soft kiss, because his resistance to her being put in the line of danger would only be futile. 

She hummed into the kiss, his hands skirting over her back and she swore she would be content if the rest of her life was spent in Spencer’s arms, in the warm mornings at their kitchen table just the two of them, and the idea of that last part spun her stomach into turmoil all over again. 

What if he freaked out? No, scratch that, he was definitely going to freak out. Spencer hated change, hated having things dropped on him, and Diana was already getting worse with the symptoms of Alzheimers she had begun presenting. He had more than enough on his plate as it was, and she knew she was the only thing that could keep his head from exploding with the worry, even if she was sometimes the cause of it. He’s always been a worrier, and part of her despised herself for the fact that he had shot out of bed every single night she’d been in the midst of a night terror, when the room spun and Peter Lewis seemed so real and so close and she woke up screaming. Because she’d brought him enough stress and trouble, and now she had an extra helping of it dished up and ready. 

It wasn’t one of those things she could keep to herself, not even if she so desperately wanted to sit on it and mull it over for a few months. She needed to tell him soon. 

Spencer looked down at her eyes, the way they’d glazed over slightly, and he wished he could crawl into the space where her thoughts bounced between one another if it meant he could figure out what had gotten her so twisted up the past few weeks. She hadn’t been herself entirely since Scratch, but she had been getting better. She’d started getting more sleep, seemed less jumpy when they were in the quiet of their apartment, and part of him thought maybe that was why she wanted to look at houses. A fresh start. And yet overnight, she’d had this guilty look in her eye like she was suddenly a million miles away, and he hated it. Bugsy had never been distant, which seemed odd to think considering she was burying her hands and face into him like she had no intention of letting him leave. But there was something in the depths of her brilliantly big mind that seemed to hold her tongue for her.

He kissed her again, hoping it was all in his head, hoping she wouldn’t keep things from him because it was them and they always told each other everything. Even if it was gross and weird and inappropriate, everything. 

And he thought maybe it was because he was going on a date with another woman, using himself as live bait to flirt and charm and seduce an assassin in order to take her into custody without fuss. Yeah, that was probably it. He couldn’t say he would be all too pleased if it had been the other way around and he would be watching her ravish another man even if it was just for the job. 

That was definitely it. There couldn’t be anything else. 

“You know I love you,” He said as a statement, yet she nodded as though it was a question, and he kissed her again because he’d regretted not doing it a hundred times a day the second he’d seen her in that closet, regretted not seeing the fact she was more than likely uncomfortable with her boyfriend of two years wining and dining a murderer. “Whatever I say when I’m there with her, you know I love you, more than I could ever love anything else,” 

He seemed so sincere, his eyes turning into that soft puppy like frown, and it only served to drive the knife in deeper as she nodded, her hands wrapping into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her again, this time just a little harder like his lips could wipe away the pit in her stomach. Because it was Spencer, and she was lying by omission, and god did she need him to know how much she loved him before things went wrong and they changed and-

“We have a little time right?” She said, his hands taking the hint as they pulled her to her feet gently, cereal long forgotten in a chocolate slush, and his hands reached down to cup her ass in the way he was more than used to doing now. Didn’t stop him from blushing however. 

“Y-yeah we have time,” He said, and she barely let him finish his sentence before she’d claimed his mouth again, not that he was complaining. She looped her fingers through his belt buckle, stepping backwards with his guidance towards their bedroom, and he hummed through a moan when he felt her run the other hand through his already messy bedhead, tugging on the ends of his curls gently.

“Good,” She responded, with a drop of that natural Bugsy cheekiness he was used to, and the sound of it made him smile. Maybe it was just the job after all, “I think I need a demonstration on just how much you don’t mean whatever you need to say to her,” 

He smirked, because she was more like herself than she had been in days, and god was she pretty when she smiled at him before they had sex, like she knew what was coming, like she knew what she did to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his heart thumping in her ears just as clearly as he could. 

“I think you’ll need multiple demonstrations,” He said, his fingers looping in between her buttons on her trousers and popping them apart softly because they’d done this before, rushed it so they weren’t late for work, and ended up ripping good jeans, “Gather multiple sets of data before you draw a conclusion,” 

He kissed down her neck and her small laugh became a moan, “I think it’s pretty much the only way, Doctor Reid,”

He laughed, and she felt it against her pulse, the sound of it making her shiver as he shoved the door open with little remorse for the way it slammed into the wall. And she made a promise to herself that once they’d caught their UnSub, she would tell him, even if it meant all of this would change. 

–

He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, his suit steamed and neat, a single red rose in his hand. His skin was already crawling at the idea of flirting with another woman, but Spencer knew none of it was real, knew he was just doing his job. Still it didn’t diminish the desire to glance where Bugsy and Rossi were sat in a booth, because he’d seen her in that red dress a thousand times before, and yet it still made his jaw drop the second he saw her in it.  

The brief had been black tie, something to fit in with the five star restaurant, and god had she delivered. He ought to have protested, told her that she was too distracting and maybe insisted she stayed in the office if she looked so striking, but then again she could have worn a bin bag for all he cared, he would still be fighting the urge to look over at her. 

He chose the seat with Bugsy at his back as to eliminate his urge to stare at her, because Dave could keep her safe, the rest of his team could watch her, he had to trust that. 

He lay the rose on the other side of the table, fiddling with the other parts of the cutlery to make sure everything looked perfect, even though in his mind he was thinking of all the things Bugsy would have been saying if she was his date tonight. She probably would have made a comment on his suit (she already had before they’d even stepped out the hotel, just as he’d given her arse a quick squeeze with cheeks even more crimson than her dress because she looked divine), probably would have offered to go to the in-and-out down the street instead because she never cared about splashing out on dates, just being with him was enough. 

Adjusting his jacket a little, he waited, trying to keep his head far away from his girlfriend, although that was much easier said than done. He couldn’t remember what his brain was like before it was filled with thoughts of her.

The ring sat in his sock drawer, buried in one of his older pairs that he hoped she wouldn’t go after since he’d made the mistake of putting it in with his boxers and almost got caught within a day when she went to steal some ready for bed and he’d chided himself for the sloppy work. He knew he wanted to ask her, thought he might even bring her to a fancy place like this, maybe prepare a small speech that attempted to tell her how much she meant to him even though he knew there wasn’t enough words for such a thing. Would he hide it in the cake? No that would be cheesy, she found cheesy overdone. Would she even like it done in public? No, she would hate that, he would wait until they got home, maybe even try that thing she’d wanted to do in bed for a few weeks, and then when they were done-

“Spencer?” A woman appeared at the table, a woman who by all accounts was objectively pretty, yet he felt that small kick of victory when he recognised her from the FBI database. 

Cat Adams. Assassin. Mastermind. UnSub. 

“Cat?” He said with practised naivety, and this time he forced all thoughts of his loving girlfriend from his head like they were about to be tainted by the woman standing in front of him, “Hi,”

“Hi,” She replied, her grin too bright and sparkly for anyone to ever guess she was a killer though he supposed that was the point,

“Hello, it’s nice to finally-” He cut himself off when she leaned up to hug him, her face drawing closer to his suddenly and she looked like she was gearing up for a peck on the lips. Forward. Much more forward than he’d given her credit for, and his stomach flipped in discomfort as he leaned away, “Oh s-sorry, I have kind of a germ thing,” He excused, which wasn’t a total lie. 

Also my girlfriend is sat ten feet away and I can already hear her clenching a fork ready to ball your eyes out like a melon, he wanted to say, though he kept his snark to himself. 

“Oh, sorry,” Cat said, holding her hands up in surrender, and looking up at him with what he knew to be false innocence. But he played along, because the sooner they caught her, the sooner he could be done with the entire thing.

“I’m kinda weird with hugs,” He explained, his face boyish as he gestured her to take a seat, because at least then he could put some distance between them, “Please, sit down,”

She smiled dizzily, slipping her jacket off to reveal a blue dress that accentuated her pixie short hair, her collar bones that could cut glass, her small, sleek figure, and she adjusted her straps as an excuse to divert his attention to her breasts.

“That’s like the oldest trick in the book, get some new material, bitch,” Bugsy mumbled under her breath, drowning her venom in sparkling apple juice disguised as champagne from where they sat in a dark corner booth and Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I wouldn’t worry about boy genius having a wandering eye, kid. Reid is more devout than my mother on Easter Sunday,” He said, picking at the starter they’d ordered as a way to seem busy. She hummed, diverting her attention into her chicken salad, making sure she wasn’t looking at the happy couple for too long as they talked awkwardly, “Do you think you could take her?”

“I know I could take her,” Bugsy responded in a clipped tone, and Rossi sniggered, and they heard Tara and Derek do the same down their earpieces. 

“It was a joke,” Cat said, to something they hadn’t quite caught, though by the looks of it they were still just making small talk, “A bad joke,”

“No, no, it was funny,” Spencer said reassuringly, and he chuckled, though Bugsy knew off the bat it was fake because she loved making him laugh and it sounded nothing like that. They fell into an awkward silence and she could hear Spencer scrambling for things to talk about because if she walked away their lead to the other assassin went right with her. 

“Can we start over? Hi, I’m Cat,” The woman said, fixing her skirt with a shy smile. She certainly didn’t seem like a killer, Bugsy thought, where she glanced at her in her peripheral. She certainly was pretty, spritely even. A little too eager to kiss a guy she just met. 

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” He replied, in that nervous tone he usually got when she flustered him. 

“Is it true you have three PHDs?” Cat asked with, well, cat-like eyes flicking between sly and seductive, and Bugsy could see how any man who wasn’t as smart as her boyfriend would fall for the act.

“Yes, that’s true. I do have three PHDs,” 

“What’s your favourite book you read last year?” She pressed and Bugsy sipped her juice to stop herself from answering for him.

“I’ve honestly never read a book I haven’t loved,” He said, deflecting the subject, while his girlfriend smirked into her almost empty plate. 

Demons by Fydor Dostoevsky, she corrected to herself because she knew he’d gone back to it more than a handful of times. 

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat went in for the kill, her timid smile morphing into something wicked as she watched Spencer squirm. 

And the second she’d said it something had reared its ugly head inside him. Because try as hard as he might, all he could think about was Bugsy’s face and that damn ring. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d er…” He cleared his throat, wondering why it was so difficult to get through a single conversation when they’d ran through the plan a million times. He knew she would ask, and yet all he could do was get defensive thinking about Cat damn Adams setting her hands on the woman he wanted desperately to marry, “I’d rather not talk about her,”

“Might as well get it out in the open right? I mean, it’s why we’re here,” She said smugly, like that innocent bounce in her step had wiped right away, revealing the murderess underneath, “How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” He lied, though he thought back to JJ’s wedding that same amount of time ago and how beautiful she looked in her dress and her cast and how he’d wished it was theirs. 

“When is she due to give birth?” Cat’s eyes narrowed at the man, pushing her hair behind her ear in a playful manner. 

Bugsy stopped, licking her lips and hoping Rossi wasn’t watching her as she finished off the last of her sparkling juice, raising a hand to a passing waiter to order a second round. 

“You having another one, Grandpa?” She said innocently, despite the stink eye he gave her and nodding to the non-alcoholic beer he’d ordered. 

“Watch yourself,” He said as the waiter retreated, and she snickered into her meal, “Grandpa will knock you on your ass,” 

“You would never, Hotch would hate that kind of paperwork,” She said setting her cutlery on the side of her plate to signal she was done, “HR would have a field day,”

“I wanna hear you say it,” The line crackled in their ear as Bugsy’s drink arrived at the table, and she couldn’t help but think the woman’s seductive voice could easily pass for a call girl. She chanced a quick look over at their table, her heart rate spiking when she saw the woman all but eye fucking Spencer with a bit of her lip, like the thrill of the chase was half the fun for her, and Bugsy felt the disgust settle in her stomach. 

“To have her killed,” Spence replied, and she looked away then, the bitterness settling on her bottom lip in a sneer. She didn’t think for one second that Spencer would think the woman was alluring, it didn’t make him flirting any easier to watch. 

The UnSub smiled wryly, looking down at his arm, “Let me see your ring,”

Spencer froze, holding his hand out hesitantly, the feeling of the gold band entirely alien on his finger even though he was trying to get used to it for the sake of the case. Cat’s hand shot out like a snake striking, holding his ring in between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes roving over the jewel.

“You know what that is?” She said with contempt, shaking her head, “A noose, only it doesn't kill you all at once it kills you slowly, day by day,” 

And he couldn’t have disagreed more, in fact the only thing that was killing him was the fact he had been dumb enough to wait so long to propose to the woman he loved more than life itself. 

Spencer Reid, dumb and in love.

“You ever feel that way?” She said, ripping him out of his thoughts, and he nodded wordlessly, sighing for effect.

“I feel that way all the time” Except his every day was spent wondering just how he ever got so lucky, how he managed to fall in love with the same woman who gave him apple cake when he couldn’t remember the last real meal he’d had because he was three months deep in an opioid addiction and having her look at him like he hung the damn cosmos. 

“Take it off,” She ordered, and Spencer tried flashing her a surprised if not charmed smile, though his hackles were slightly raised, “As a sign of your commitment. To me,” 

He bit his cheek, knowing better than to argue back if he was playing the part of the down beaten husband, and began twisting the gold ring off his wedding finger, handing it over to her expectant palm. 

“If she sticks to the pattern, she’ll take him to a secondary location and then kill him.” JJ observed, sipping on her mocktail in her own fancy, ruffled dress, shooting Tara and Derek a look where they played the part of a sweet couple on a date. 

“I’d like to see the bitch try,” Bugsy said through a wide fake smile, her face showing no symptoms of anger except the flash of teeth. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re not letting it get that far,” Rossi added, and the two of them clinked their drinks together in a ringing chink, “Hotch, do you two have a visual?”

Penelope confirmed with a few taps of her keyboard, and Hotch nodded as Spencer confirmed with a small flick of his eyes he could hear the feed, ”Alright, all agents stand by. Dr Reid will give the green light, don’t move until we have it,” 

“Twenty four carats?” Cat asked, twisting the ring in between her fingers with a smug grin like she already knew the answer. 

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, looking down at the band and back up the soulless dark hues of the black widow woman. 

“Twenty four k times… four years. Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but,” She huffed, reaching into her purse under the table, and Bugsy damn near spat out her juice when she heard a gun load through the mic, “This sucker is brand new. You’re not married.”

“What was that, was that what I think it was?” Penelope’s stressed tone rushed through the ear piece, and the sound of it plus the smell of the chicken she’d just eaten made Bugsy’s stomach turn again. 

Except this time she felt it coming up into her throat, the same way she’d found herself feeling queasy for a few days. Spencer had thought she had a stomach bug, had tried to get her to stay home with some mint tea, but this was more than the last few times. It was like her anxiety clenched her gut in a tight grip and twisted painfully, and she lurched forward, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

“Kid?” Rossi said, his brows frowning at the expression on her face, and she immediately began untucking her napkin from her chest. 

She needed to make it to the bathroom now, hoped on everything that the sudden movement didn’t distract where Cat held a gun to Spencer’s midriff beneath the table. 

“What is she doing?” Morgan hissed into the mic, while Hotch and Penelope began barking protests. 

“Oh, good lord, Bug, stay down, you don’t know what that psycho is going to do!” Penelope squealed, watching Bugsy rush out of the booth seat, a hand firmly over her lips, and Aaron brought a hand to his head, a splitting headache forming at the sight of the youngest agent rushing for the bathroom. 

“Prentiss, what are you doing, you could blow your cover,” He snapped, though there was no anger there, and she could only switch her mic off for what was about to happen, knowing the team had much bigger things to worry about. 

Bursting the doors open, she dived for the nearest stall and fell to her knees, head in the bowl before she could hock up her guts over the floor, and then came a horrid retching sound. 

Spencer’s eyes widened at the table, hearing his team yelling out orders at the one person he couldn’t keep track of, and it took everything in him not to turn in his seat to investigate for himself what happened for her to flee the safety of the table, or go after her even. Because even if he wanted to, even if he needed nothing more than to make sure she was okay, he couldn’t move an inch. Not with the gun being pointed at all of his important organs by the experienced killer with a smile.

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Cat asked in a sweet tone, her eyes cold and calculating as she cocked the gun beneath the seat. 

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse,” Spencer bit, the flirty look in his expression long gone the second he’d heard the rest of his team calling for his girlfriend. He needed to keep his head, Bugsy was safe so long as she was far away from the woman pointing the gun at him. Having the weapon aiming for him he could deal with. 

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” Cat agreed with a nod, her jaw setting in a hard clench, “No, it’s because I think through every possible outcome and then I plan accordingly,”

And Bugsy’s stomach seized hearing her voice so cold and viscous, and she would give anything to hear her partner flirting with that bitch of a woman if it meant she knew he was safe. She emptied her stomach again right as she heard their UnSub speak once more.

“You see, I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine,”

And with that Bugsy gave another hurl.

–

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” Cat insisted, her voice nails on a chalkboard, and he felt the apathy on his face flick into slight annoyance. 

Bugsy. Because Bugsy had been ill, because she hadn’t been sleeping, because she hadn’t been herself for a few months, because his mom had gotten worse, because they needed him. 

Spencer would take the bullet before he ever told her about Bugsy, because he knew for a woman who loved male attention, telling her about the girl he loved most in the world would only draw a big target on her back, and he would never dare to put her at risk. Never again. 

Not a single hair on her head, he’d promised. Not even a scratch. 

“You can ask me as many times as you want but I’m still not going to tell you,” He snipped, making sure to keep his face expressionless if he really wanted to sell the deal that she was a nobody to him.

Her mouth tightened in frustration, “Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters,”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.” He stated blankly, his team waiting on bated breath to see if they needed to send in their back up since JJ’s cover had already been blown. “You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.” 

Cat’s smile shifted into something akin to a snarl, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and Spencer matched her challenge with cool ease. “You’re really gonna take this all the way, aren’t you?” 

And Spencer smiled wryly, because her composure was collapsing beneath her, “Yeah,”

“So am I,” 

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered, and Rossi drew his gun beneath a napkin, shuffling to his feet, “Prentiss, where the hell are you?” 

And she knew she was wasting time, but her stomach had picked the worst time to flip. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or the pressure of a gun being pointed at her love, or maybe it was bad chicken. Either way her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her legs weak where she’d crouched on the floor, and she chided herself for not being able to pull it together when Spencer needed her. 

And as if her nerves weren’t rattled enough, she heard Spencer’s mic mute out, and she knew then that the time for sticking her head in the bowl and screaming at herself to get up was over. Spencer was in trouble. Two of their agents' cover was blown. With Tara and Derek sitting the opposite end of the restaurant, he was alone if Cat Adams decided to pull that trigger. 

Spitting the rancid taste from her mouth into the toilet, she reached up for the flush, wiping her mouth with a handful of toilet paper. 

“Hotch,” She tuned in, and she heard the sighs of relief as he and Penelope seemed to both ease slightly at hearing her voice, “I’m back, how’s Rossi?”

“His cover’s blown, he’s heading out to find JJ,” Hotch responded, his heart rate in his throat the second he’d heard her sound through. He knew it would be unfair if he pulled her from field work for another three months, but the second she’d disappeared from their screens, he’d already began thinking of the excuse he could give if it meant he knew she was kept out of harm’s way, “Where are you, are you hurt?” 

“No, no, just,” She cleared her throat, leaving the stall and heading for the sinks, “Bad chicken I guess,”

Taking a handful of cold water up to her mouth, she swilled the liquid around to try freshen herself up, sputtering it back into the sink and running the back of her hand over her lips. 

“Do you need to get out of there?” Hotch asked, the concern thick in his tone, almost as clear as it was on his brow as he leaned in to Penelope’s monitor, “Lewis and Morgan have got eyes-”

“No, I’m not leaving him out there,” She protested, leaning over the sink with an exhausted huff, “I can’t head back to the table, she’ll know I was with Rossi,” 

And as if she had spoken a plea to the universe, one of the waitresses waltzed through the bathroom door carrying glass cleaner and a bunch of fresh toilet paper under her arm, smiling sweetly at Bugsy who seemed like any other patron of their restaurant. 

Her eyes snapped over the girl’s body, figuring she was about the same size, perhaps a tiny bit bigger than herself, she almost audibly heard the click of the idea and before she knew it she had reached out to grab the girl’s attention. 

She just hoped it worked, because otherwise the scolding she was going to receive from Hotch wouldn’t be worth it in the slightest. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna penalise you by adding ten minutes because I actually did learn something important.” Cat said with a smirk, her finger flicking over the clock on his phone as she prolonged the countdown, and Spencer squirmed where she shuffled closer to him, close enough that their knees were touching and he could feel where the toe of her heels were teasingly stroking up his calf, like threatening him and his team for information was getting her off. He felt filthy, like he’d need a dozen showers before he fell into his girlfriend’s arms, and part of him considered skipping the whole dinner and speech, asking her the second he saw her again if she would be his wife. 

Because this, having another woman so close, was making him sick. 

“Oh really? What’s that?” He snapped, his patience wearing thin as his lips pressed in a straight line. 

“Your back up, I flushed them out,” She replied with a smirk, looking around the room with an arrogance Spencer wished he could wipe right off of her face, “It’s just me and you now,” 

“Hi, how are we all doing this wonderful evening?” A chirpy voice came from the end of the table, slamming two menus down between them hard enough that their attention snapped to her immediately. Spencer felt his eyes morph into horror, though he fought hard to hide it, as he saw a familiar face, the same one that had been running through his mind since, well, forever. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a maroon shirt and a black pencil  skirt, her hair tied back in a neat bun and she had a pen pushed behind her ear for good measure as she smiled at them tightly. 

Bugsy had really done it this time. 

“My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

–

“Prentiss, what in god’s name have you done?” Hotch barked, as she waltzed behind the bar, ignoring the looks from the barman that clearly had never seen her working there before. 

“I’m making sure Spencer has back up if she decides to get trigger happy,” She bit back, snagging a pitcher of water from the fridge and two crystalline glasses, placing them on an upturned tray. 

“And what happens if she gets trigger happy towards the waitress that won’t leave them alone?” Morgan snipped, shooting her a look where their table faced the long, walnut coloured bar that wrapped around the back of the establishment. 

“Well then, I guess we pray there’s a doctor in the house that isn't Spencer,” She huffed, plastering a fake smile on her lips, and carefully shuffling the tray onto her palm, “You’re going to have to take me out yourselves if you think I’m leaving him there alone,”

And they huffed, Hotch running a hand through his hair. Because they knew she wasn’t kidding. God help the man who tried to stop Bugsy when she had her mind to something. 

And with that resounding silence, she listened to Spencer’s mic, hoping to catch a foot in to the conversation.

“You should have seen right through me the moment you walked in, but you didn’t,” He said, and she didn’t need to take a glance at Cat’s face to know she was getting more than riled up. Why was she here? What happened to staying with Rossi where it was safe? It was her first day back in the field, what was she doing? He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, though he knew if he scratched the surface of the feeling he’d find it was fear. And unfortunately for the woman sat opposite him, he’d stopped pulling his punches because of it. “You couldn’t. Because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt every man who reminds you of him,”

Cat’s face flashed with what he could have sworn was hurt, before her eyes steeled back over and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t hit straight home, “That’s kind of boiler plate psychology, isn’t it? I’m just another girl with daddy issues,” 

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents,” He snapped back, because he couldn’t dare take his eyes from their UnSub, no matter how desperately his gut told him to check on Bugsy. “If it’s so boilerplate, let's test that theory. How hard did you look for him?”

Her mouth screwed up in bitterness, “Very hard,”

“And how disappointed were you when you realised you will never find him?”  Spencer drove the knife in deeper, watching Cat’s resolve fade under his hateful stare, “You needed some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up,” 

And Bugsy stopped, because Spencer always had a way of saying the exact right thing that made her brain tick into genius, like everything about him made her the best version of herself even if he didn’t mean to. That was what tripped her up. Her father. 

“Hotch, it’s her dad,” She murmured, flashing a couple of customers an easy smile as she took the plates off their table, because Cat would catch on way too fast if she seemed to be the only person not be doing a job, “That’s what she wants, that’s her endgame,” 

And there was only a single second between them, before Hotch caught up to that wonderfully big brain of hers, “Serial killers with an endgame will do anything to get to them, even if it means taking themselves down with it,”

“Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?” Cat’s voice crawled down her ear piece as she burst through the kitchen doors, dumping the plates at the pot wash and looking to where JJ and Rossi were talking with the manager. 

“Because you’re stalling,” Spencer said, though he didn’t have that usual tone that told her he was sure of himself, and she knew from the direction it was going that something was missing. They’d missed something, otherwise they’d have Cat in cuffs by now.

“Then you don’t know me at all,” She hissed back, and Bugsy shook her nerves out through her fingers, peeking at where they were sat through the thin glass pane on the door, “Do you think I would show up here without an escape plan. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes all men have gender bias, even you Dr Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?” 

Spencer paused, his frown shifting on his face, “You’re not here alone,” 

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think,” She said, and by the sounds of it the smirk was back on her face, and Bugsy fought the sneer twitching at her lips. 

“You planted a bomb in the building,” Came Spencer's response, the grave realisation setting all three agents into motion. JJ’s head whirled to where their youngest stood by the door, her eyes widening at her partner’s words. 

And for a second she wanted to beg Bugsy to take cover outside, to get out while she still could, because it had been a miracle the last time a building had exploded around her and she’d only broken a few bones. JJ didn’t think she could stand to grieve her for good, not the girl who had already gone through so much for them. All because they had missed it. 

But she knew better, knew Bugsy would fight tooth and nail to stay if Spencer was still in the building. Knew that that argument would only be futile, a waste of time, because the Prentiss girl was not leaving. 

“We’ll go check it out, you stay put,” JJ ordered, drawing her gun to her side as Rossi did the same and Bugsy nodded, “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t draw attention to yourself, Spencer knows what he’s doing,” 

And Bugsy paused before she answered, choosing to give them a slow nod because she already had a good idea of what her next move would be, and it absolutely did not involve staying put. 

Like hell she would stay put while he was there. 

With that, JJ and Rossi turned on their heel to head for the stairs leading underneath the building, and Bugsy picked the tray back up, right as Lewis burst through the revolving doors, a serious look on her primped face. 

“We need to evacuate,” Tara said, and Bugsy nodded, flicking a look behind her to where the rest of the kitchen seemed to be waiting on their order, because the second JJ had flashed the FBI badge, they had frozen.

“You get the customers out safely, I’m going to buy us some time,” Bugsy said, and Tara watched her slip through into the restaurant, the tray pressed against her stomach. 

This was stupid. Stupider than she’d ever been, but her thoughts struggled to make sense whenever Spencer was in trouble. And it was like she saw the splash of his brains against the table, the same way she’d seen it in Lewis’s house all on the ceiling, like she could see now just what his organs would look like when Adams shot him however many time in the abdomen. 

She couldn’t think like that. They would be okay, they would figure it out together, they always did. They always managed to put their heads together when they were in trouble. 

Being in danger together seemed like a much better bet than having to watch the love of her life killed in the middle of this damn restaurant because she hadn’t done anything. She wanted to do everything with him for the rest of her sorry life, and if that meant sitting at the nozzle end of a pistol with him, then so be it. 

She just hoped he would forgive her quickly. 

“All we want to do is-” She heard Spencer begin, the other waiters filtering out of the kitchen with shaken looks on their faces, as they carefully slipped their patrons the bill that had already paid off, asking them to leave calmly and quietly. 

“Minimise collateral damage, I get it, I’m not mad,” Cat snapped back, rolling her eyes, “It’ll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it’s clear, so do me a favour and tell your boss that nobody leaves until its safe for me to do so,” 

Spencer chewed his tongue. He couldn’t let her leave, not when they had her so close, not when they were pursuing Penelope, not when they were so close to catching the woman responsible for so many kills. 

Spencer hated losing, he hated knowing that she was about to get away because he had been too wrapped up in his overwhelming thoughts to figure out her plan, too busy fretting over the two women who meant the most to him to think ten steps ahead like he usually did. 

He’d been sloppy, even though he knew he should cut himself some slack. His fiancee, girlfriend, had been tortured, his mother facing a different kind of terror in her mind altogether. He hadn’t been thinking about work, he’d been thinking of the house they were going to buy with the picket fence and the porch swing and the mortgage, and the damn ring-

“Well?” Cat’s goading voice ripped him out of his reverie, and he huffed in defeat, “Spencer?”

“You can leave,” He murmured, the agitation scratching at his skin because he was struggling to think of a final card to play. He was usually so good at games, usually won every single one of them. But his head couldn’t settle when Bugsy wasn’t near, when he couldn’t make sure she was safe. 

Cat shuffled out of the side of the booth, her eyes flicking across the restaurant for her contact, and Spencer had barely opened his mouth in protest before he watched the UnSub walk straight into a waitress, a false smile slipping on her face as to not raise alarm. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” And yet his breath hitched when he spotted the hair he’d ran his fingers through just that morning yanked into a bun, the lips he could kiss for an entire lifetime curled in disdain, the body he worshipped refusing to move out of the way for the woman in a hurry. 

And it seemed Cat only realised that the woman who had brought them water wasn’t a waitress at all, despite her plain face that had faded into the background, despite the fact Spencer hadn’t given her a second glance; Only when she heard a gun cocking behind the serving tray at her stomach did the fake smile drop from Cat Adams face. 

Because she hadn’t flushed out Spencer’s back up. Not while Bugsy was still alive and breathing. 

“Sit back down,” Bugsy growled, keeping her tone low but with enough bite that Cat’s eyes narrowed to hide the surprise. 

“Well, well, seems I hadn’t planned for everything, I thought a pretty face like you would know better than to pull a gun on a woman with her finger on the big red button,” Cat said wryly, though Bugsy caught her eyeing up her chest as if to be checking for a bullet vest, “Move out the way, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get ugly,”

Spencer’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, though he kept his breathing even. What was she doing? 

He didn’t care that he had no more power over her than anyone else on the team, he wanted to drag her out of the room himself if it meant she would stop throwing herself in the way of danger. 

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Bugsy snapped back, her expression melting into something rogue, something teasing as she leaned towards Cat with a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back down, and I’m going to show you exactly why you should have accounted for a pretty face like me,” 

“You’re stalling,” Cat snickered, trying to push past the waitress, who wasn’t a waitress at all but an FBI agent, only for her hand to shoot out and grab her wrist, tossing the tray on the table. 

Spencer felt his heart lurch into his throat as he saw both of them pull their guns to waist height, a blink and you’d miss it kind of movement, and it was like he’d seen the game set and matched then and there. 

Bugsy wasn’t backing down. And neither was Cat.

“I make it a habit of knowing what kind of women are going on dates with my boyfriend,” Bugsy’s hand tightened around her wrist, watching the surprise flicker in the woman’s eyes, and she scoffed, “What? You really thought all that flirting and nervous glances were real?”

And the woman said nothing, her ego clearly a little hurt, though Bugsy was just sticking to the profile, and the profile said she revelled in male attention. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Bugsy snipped through a grin, even if her chest was pounding at the feeling of the gun pointing at her abdomen, “Well, lucky for you I have a present for you. On the condition you sit back down and play my game,” 

“You think I’m going to fall for that shit?” Cat seethed. It was one thing to outsmart a man, that was fair game, that was easy pickings for a woman like her. But a woman, a woman who seemed to love playing with her food as much as she did. That was different, “What is it, a reduced sentence? The good TV in my two by four cell? You can keep dreaming, I don’t want your worthless promises,” 

“I’d hardly call your daddy dearest worthless,” Bugsy mused, and she watched Cat’s expression falter, “A dead beat drunk maybe, but worthless? A little harsh considering you waited so long to meet him,” 

Cat paused, eyes flicking over the woman’s face for any signs of a lie, “You have my father?”

And Bugsy smirked, “Do I look like I’m bluffing?” But her face was set in stone, and Cat hated to admit she seemed too confident to be lying, “Why don’t you make this a little easier for everyone and sit back down. I’m not done with you yet,”

The murderess scowled, her shoulders straightening as she ripped her wrist out of Bugsy’s grip and retreated back to the booth. 

And it was only then that Bugsy looked at Spencer, his eyes wide in a horrid mix of terror and rage, and it was a sight she swore she never wanted directed at her again. But she couldn’t leave him, he had to understand that. Because if all the bets were off, if all the cards were dealt, she knew he would need to be dragged screaming from the building before he left her to deal with a hostile UnSub alone. 

And Spencer knew that too, of course he knew that. Yet it didn’t diminish the sickening worry bubbling up in his chest as the women sat down at the table, and their game had a playing field. 

“So, I take it this is the darling wife you wanted killed,” Cat sneered, and Spencer didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman with the gun, even if Bugsy did have one pointed right back at her, “I don’t blame you, I’d want to be rid of her too,”

And they both knew it was a dig, a stab in the interest of getting them both riled up. But it wouldn’t go far. Because despite the anger Spencer felt dwindling in his chest, he always worked better with her. Like a puzzle piece in the tangle of his mind had clicked into place, and suddenly they were a team again, and she seemed more like herself than she had in months, an ease about the way she leaned back in the plush seat despite the fact her finger was resting on the trigger. 

“Have you ever played Cat’s cradle?” Bugsy asked her, knocking her knee against his as if she’d heard his thoughts. They were together in this. Together. Even if the building went up in flames and bullets and the plan went to shit. Just the two of them, the way they’d always been. 

And he felt himself ease back too, something akin to security shifting over him. They always were safer together. 

Cat’s eyebrows raised as Bugsy dodged her comment, “What, do you want to braid my hair like sixth graders, too? What about it?” 

Bugsy shrugged, reaching over with her free hand to the glass of water she’d set down for the two of them, “The way I see it, Cat, you have got those little paws caught in yarn and are scrambling to get out of it,” She chuckled, taking a quick sip, “Now, if we were to let you go, you’d end up walking out of here scot free, and who knows, might even blow up the whole building anyway. But, if we help you out of this little tangle you’ve got us all in, then maybe we cut a deal that doesn’t involve all of us going out in a ball of flames and champagne. Sounds good right?”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly, her head tilting in annoyance, “Alright. Get on with it, no one likes a show off. How did you find my father?” 

Bugsy smirked, “Well that was pretty easy once you have access to the files we have. We traced your birth record to a Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens.” 

The brunette’s eye twitched, like the girl had just spat in her face, which was what it felt like, and she felt the taste of her own medicine was just as sour as she’d always presumed. 

“He couldn’t put twenty four hours together sober, sweetheart,” Bugsy summarised, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal to her, just another bum on the street, “You can probably imagine our surprise to find that he lives here in DC,”

“Where?” Cat hissed, and Bugsy snickered, shaking her head and taking another sip of her water. 

“I’m an agent, not a miracle worker. It wasn’t that simple,” She replied, boredly tracing her finger over the restaurants emblem they had printed on the napkin, “I found him on the street, showed him your picture and said I’d like to ask him some questions about his darling daughter,”

Cat’s lip pulled down in annoyance, her matt red lipstick smudging with her pout, “And?”

And perhaps Bugsy was being cruel. Perhaps she was playing into the profile that indicated Cat needed someone to match her wit and zeal if she was going to listen. Men, she could squash like bugs. Bugsy, ironically, not so much. 

Perhaps she was thinking about how she’d reached into Spencer's pants to retrieve his gun, and wanted some of what she was saying to hurt. 

“He didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Bugsy said simply, with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched the woman’s onyx brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as the realisation crashed on her, "Didn't really seem to care,"

“He-he didn’t remember me?” Cat asked, the tease that had been there half an hour ago wiped clear from her tone, and Bugsy shook her head. 

“Nope,” She said, popping the last syllable, “Alcoholism really rocks your brain. Sorry, honey,”

Adams scoffed, shaking her head with venom, “You’re not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don’t understand,”

And Bugsy’s brows raised, a bitter empathy flicking in her gaze. Quick, but not so quick that Cat didn’t catch it, and she shuffled in her seat. 

“Oh,” Their UnSub paused, the trodden down look on her face rekindling with interest, “But you understand, don’t you? What, does your father like a good beer or ten, princess?” 

Bugsy snickered emptily, “Ofcourse I understand,” She said, leaning over the table to hold the woman’s glare, because like hell would she back down just because Cat was treading on home ground, “I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. He picked the hot wife and holidays to Aruba over his little girl and he thought a new pony or two would make up for all the times he forgot Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time he sent me a birthday card on time, and yeah he was a bit of a mean bastard once he'd had a whiskey,” She shook her head with contempt, and she felt Spencer knock his knee against hers gently, but she only watched the viper woman with careful eyes. And to her shock, Cat seemed like she understood her, like she had some kind of respect for her telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very good at making sure old guys like that get what’s coming to them. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?” 

Cat’s face seemed to shrivel in frustration when she heard her words repeated back to her, “Is that really why you came here today? To help me?” And Bugsy tilted her head, knowing their UnSub was running out of time, that her window of opportunity was closing with the patrons of the restaurant getting antsy to leave. “Do you know how many men have told me they want to help me?”

Letting her expression smooth into empathy, she leaned forward, her tone dropping into a hushed murmur, “That may well be true, sweetheart, but from where I’m sitting, I’m not a man,” 

And Cat paused, something like regret drifting over her face, before she spoke again, “Do you want to know how that worked out for them?” 

And with that, JJ and Rossi watched the C4 charge’s switch to green, indicating their line was live and ready to blow. 

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,”

Bugsy’s expression dropped an inch, the sight of it making Cat’s lips curl into a cheshire smile. 

“You’re not the only one with a loyal partner, honey,” 

But the Prentiss woman was quick on her heels, watching Morgan and Tara rise from their place at another booth, heading towards a woman sitting at the bar on her phone, and she forced her lips together to stop herself from looking too smug to cause suspicion. 

“It seems so,” Bugsy agreed with a nod, handing her gun off to Spencer beneath the table. 

If he was confused, he didn’t show it, probably because he trusted that big brain of hers with everything in him, even if he was mad enough he could feel the annoyance oozing from his hot cheekbones. Yet to the rest of the restaurant, Cat Adams, included she hadn’t moved an inch. 

“But, there is one thing I can guarantee about this partner of yours,” She said, leaning over to pour herself another glass of water casually. 

Cat hummed in content, “Oh, right? What’s that?”

And Bugsy smirked, barely raising the glass to her lips as Morgan pounced on the Bomber, ripping the phone out of her hands and causing the patrons around her to yelp, “She’s sure as shit not as clever as me and my husband,” 

Cat’s head whirlled around to see her partner’s face slamming into the hard wood of the bar, Tara yanking the cuffs from her belt, and she barely had time to flick back to the two agents facing her before a pitcher of ice cold water was thrown in her eyes, her thick mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Spencer dove over the table and grabbed her gun from her grasp as Bugsy ripped her out of the booth with rough hands. 

She threw her to the ground in the few seconds she was disorientated, her hands tightening around her wrists as make shift cuffs, and she saw Spencer hurrying to grab the real things from his pockets. 

“That was a cheap shot, you’re a cheater, you said you’d play fair,” Cat barked, her cheeks pressing against the rough carpet as the agents cuffed her, ignoring her protests and shoves. 

“Honey, this is me playing fair,” Bugsy snapped with a cruel smirk, “You threatened my friends, you stuck your hand in my boyfriend’s pants, and pointed a gun at him. Believe me I could have done so much worse,” 

And with that Cat Adams was hauled off the ground by the two of them, as they led her out to the police van waiting outside the restaurant. 

–

The doors pulled open, empty, and Cat’s face dropped, because her only silver lining on the entire outcome had been that she’d be able to meet the dead beat dad that ran out on her. 

That agent’s face had been so genuine as she’d said it. It had seemed so real, and yet… 

“You lied to me,” She said as Bugsy set her down on the bench, Spencer pulling another set of handcuffs from his belt and the two of them looked up at her, her lashes lining with disappointment. 

“If it helps, we really did try to look for him.” Spencer said, his tone blunt because she had a crazed look in her eye he didn’t like one bit the second she stared at his girlfriend.

And even though she was the one in chains, heading for prison for a twenty year sentence at the minimum, she laughed. Cackled. 

“It doesn't matter anyway, I still won,” She said, that venomous gaze turning to Spencer because she had learned atleast two thing in the time she’d been sat with the two agents that ruined her life. 

One. Spencer’s mother had Alzheimers, that he hadn’t been lying about. That she was sure was too real to be a story he’d pulled out his ass. 

Two. The girl wasn’t phased by insults or bites or cruel words directed towards her. Yet when it was at Spencer…

“How do you figure that one?” Bugsy said, her brow furrowing as she shook her head at the woman.

“In ten years, Mommy dearest won’t remember anyone’s name,” Bugsy’s head shot up at that, her lips curling into a snarl, and she forced her fingertips into her palm to stop herself from throwing a slap at the woman’s face, “But I’ll remember yours,” 

Bugsy daren’t react, no matter if her chest boiled in anger at the woman’s callous words. Spencer had to give that information up, give a small bit of his soft underbelly to get the woman to trust him enough not to shoot. 

And she couldn’t exactly blame him when he rose to his feet, darting out of the van with a clenched jaw, because the day had been an entire shit show, and she knew by the growl of annoyance he let out that their was a big conversation looming over her head, one she could only see ending in a fight.

It was just the two of them in the van, Cat entirely bound to her seat, and her painted lips had pulled into a grin the second he’d stormed off, her sleek eyes snapping to Bugsy who looked ready to slit her throat. 

“Oh, come on Princess, it was tit for tat,” Cat shrugged as if she didn’t seem destroyed, “You took my dad from me, I guess I had to do the same for that hubby of yours,”

Bugsy looked down at her, swallowing her rage with a purse of her lips, feeling her breath rattle with unfiltered animosity.

“You’d make a shit profiler, for what it’s worth. What you profiled about him was all off,” She snarled, stepping away from the woman and looking down at her as if she was shit on the bottom of her shoe, “At least he’s going to make a better father than the bum who would rather sleep on concrete than know you,”

And with that she slammed the doors closed behind her, darting off on Spencer’s heel. 

+1. The one where she tells him.

She saw his stress lines, the way the day’s events had weighed heavy on him. He sat on the sofa, his shoes thrown by the door after a tense drive home, and she'd found a space on the coffee table in front of him.

He was quiet, he had never been quiet with her, not in the years since they’d kissed that first time in her room. He wasn’t one for the silent treatment, she knew that much. Yet he was just that. Silent.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice that of a child as her brows scrunched together in worry. She felt the words bubbling in her throat, the thing she’d needed to tell him for a week gnawing at her tongue, crawling it’s way out, only she worried that after what she had done, he might just be ten times more annoyed at her throwing herself in the line of danger. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, and she thought this might turn into their first real fight in the two and bit years they’d been together. Her skin went cold at the words that loomed over them, and she knew by the way he sighed alone he was pissed. 

“You can’t do that,” He said, his voice a restrained bite, and he shook his head for good measure, “You can’t put yourself in the way of danger again, I can’t do that again, not after Scratch.” 

Her throat closed up with tears, and she glanced at him, her fingers itching to take his warm hands in her own, her body begging to preen into him, have him kiss her and tell her he wasn’t mad, that he still loved her, that everything was okay. But he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t feel any of that, of course he still loved her, but the wet that lined his lashes told her all she needed to know. That seeing what Scratch had done to her had scared him enough that even the idea of her coming close to a hostile UnSub with a loaded gun, that straying from the plan that was designed to keep everyone safe, had tipped him into a grey area that had him both wanting to hold her close and never let her go whilst yelling at her in that broken cadence to show her just how hurt he was. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” She choked, her eyes becoming watery and pathetic and she hated crying during arguments, not wanting to look weak but that was exactly how she felt. Weak. Like she had no backbone to lean on because she knew she shouldn’t have intervened, but the snake-like woman undressing her boyfriend with her eyes while cocking a weapon at him had pushed her over the edge. 

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it much better,” Spencer shook his head, furrowing his brows and it was only when he leaned forward that the salty hot tears dribbled down his cheek. “You- you can’t just do that, Bugsy, you know that right?”

She nodded, the words building in her trachea like word vomit, like she wanted to scream the confession at him that she should have given him the second she’d found out. “I know, I’m sorry,” She said again, her words entirely warbled with guilt because she’d never seen him so distraught, and she thought back to the horror that had spread on his face when she’d sat down. 

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart, do you understand?” His tone had shifted, something a little softer and he grabbed her hands tightly when her shoulders hunched together, and she leaned forward to try to hide her cries in her lap, sitting silently like a scolded child, “What were you thinking? You just got back into the field today, you could have been hurt, you could have gotten someone else hurt-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She sniffled, her expression truly guilty, because everything he was saying was exactly true, she could have gotten him shot. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I just was worried that…” She trailed off, her heart rate spiking when the words almost slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t tell him, not like this.

“What?” Spencer pressed, because he didn’t like the look of whatever had just passed over her face, and she shook her head in denial, “Bug, tell me,” 

“No, I can’t,” Her breath clogged in her chest, coming out in a shaky rattle, and it was then that he leaned forward even more, trying to dip his head down to catch her eye, "Not like this,"

“Please tell me,” He begged, his eyes still stinging where another wave of tears threatened to burst at the seam when she shook her head again, her chin pressing down into her chest because he hated this. He hated arguing with her. “I’m sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to, honey, I just got- worried.”

“I know,” She said quietly through another sniffle, rubbing her cheek on her shoulder to dry it, “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through I just,” She took a deep breath, because she knew she needed to tell him, knew there was no more running from it. 

He lifted a palm to her cheek, his thumb skirting under her eyelashes, and he forced himself together because he could never stand to see her cry, not when it was partially his fault, “What?” 

“I just can’t do this without you,” She murmured, her heart in her throat, and it only made it difficult to swallow. She chanced a look at Spencer, his eyes wet and red and worried as she continued, “I can’t be the one to tell this kid their dad died because I didn’t do anything,” 

“What..” He started, his brows immediately falling into a frown as he looked at her. She swore she could hear every single contraction of her heart muscles in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins making it sound like waves crashing on a shore right in her eardrum. 

“It’s still fixable,” She jumped in, before he could say anything, like she needed to justify immediately what she’d said, or even just talk to fill the silence because she hated not knowing what he was thinking, “It’s only five weeks along, I still have time to… fix it-”

“Five weeks- you-you’re pregnant?” Spencer’s eyes were wide, with horror or shock she had no idea, nor did she want to find out judging by the way he had turned pale, reading between the lines, “W-What- fix it? Is that what you want to do?” 

She stopped, because he seemed to be keeping a lid on his emotions, trying his hardest to sound calm and somehow that made it all the more worse. Because she would rather him get angry, or get frustrated and tell her this was too soon, or tell her there was no way he was ready to be a father, because at least then the pressure of it wasn’t on her back to decide for both of them. 

But he would never, and she didn’t know why she’d ever second guessed him. He wasn’t yelling, or turning away, or leaving her the second things got tough, because it was Spencer. And Spencer would never. Spencer gave her the choice of what she wanted to do. 

She stopped, her lungs suddenly feeling just that bit tighter, as she shrugged pitifully, and she thought this was perhaps not the most ideal way to tell someone you’re pregnant, “I-I don’t know, I think…” She stopped, because what did she think? She’d been so wrapped up in worrying about what Spencer would think, worrying about his mom and her nightmares and Cat God Damn Adams that she hadn’t even let herself entertain the thought of a little them. 

But if she said she didn’t like the idea of a little boy with Spencer’s hair and glasses and smile, if she said she couldn’t see the photo album his mom had handed her full of pictures of their kids butt naked and watering the flower beds, she would be a liar. 

“I think… it would take a lot of work, I mean it’s a baby for christ sakes, Bugsy, of course it’ll take work,” He nodded slowly as she chided herself, but she felt his hands tighten on hers, and the tiny gesture gave her the encouragement she needed. She took another breath, that boy with brown curls and her eyes in a jedi costume flashing through her head, “But.. I think having a mini you is everything I could have ever wished for,” 

His lip quivered for a minute, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. And then…

He smiled, wider than she’d ever seen him, like she could count every single one of his teeth, and she copied him despite the way a frog leapt into her throat, and she saw his eyes line with a fresh set of tears. 

“Really, we’re really doing this?” Spencer asked, quietly, like someone could hear them, or perhaps he couldn’t believe himself even as he said it. He thought his chest was about to explode, thought his heart could never love someone so much as he loved her, thought it would never beat the same way again as it had before he’d been told he was going to have a baby with the woman he’d been in love with for nearly nine years. She nodded, her shy smile turning into something happy, maybe even excited as he pulled her in for an achingly sweet kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her lips over and over and over again, ignoring the salt that trapped in her skin, and he realised then he had started crying just as much as she had. Two wailing saps sitting in their living room, happier than they’d ever dreamed they were allowed to be. “I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry I shouted-” 

She chuckled, shaking her head, and drawing him back in for a long, silencing kiss, “I was stupid, very stupid.” Bugsy said, the weight lifting off her chest like a dumbbell had been moved, and she could breath again. Because Spencer kissed her like he wanted to merge their bodies into one, like he didn’t care for breath anymore as long as he had her lips on his, and she couldn’t help think if that was what he thought of her too, “No more being stupid from either of us. Kid’s got to have at least one smart parent,“

He smiled, enough joy in his eyes to make her think she was handing him the universe. And yet that was exactly how he felt. Like everything he dreamt of as a kid, when he was in his room wishing his dad had stayed because sometimes looking after his mom was tough on a twelve year old, or when he’d held Henry for the first time and thought maybe he wouldn’t be terrible at it by the time it was his turn. 

He looked at Bugsy, the idea of their kid growing inside her, about the size of a petit pois pea at five weeks, and Spencer damn near felt like he’d won the lottery. 

And all thoughts of Cat Adams were gone from both of their minds, the viper woman she wished she had gotten a good right hook to when she’d had the chance entirely unimportant now. 

Because they were going to be a family, more so than they already were. And Bugsy felt as though she couldn’t love Spencer any more than she already did, but she could love his baby more than she’d ever thought possible. 

--

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[imsilay]

AGOWILT

“unnecessary fear”

NSFW MDNI +18, cw: noncon, Kidnapper!König, fem!reader, smuuutttt.

wc: 1.9k ( it’s too much for me Ü )

help me i am constantly thinking about König AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP IT T-T

cr: rU3Ur (LET ME HAVE HIM OMAAAYYGAAATT)

You looked out of the worlds most tiniest window as König comfortably slept on top of you. Feeling of your soft body underneath his big and broader frame made him feel ‘home’. He wouldn’t exchange anything to have you under him like that. Your arms were sprayed both sides of you, you didn’t wanted to touch him yet here he was covering your entire body like a warm blanket. You felt him hold you a little tighter and move his head towards your neck from your chest. He was probably having a dream, you thought, not really caring how close his head was to your jugular. You didn’t knew what time it was, there was no clock, no window except the small opening on the wall -you hardly called it a window-, there was nothing but him. The massive bedroom was just made for him, no unnecessary items, just a giant bed, a furniture for him to put his gun, a closet and you. What else he’d want? You didn’t notice his face coming dangerously close to your throat when you get lost in your thoughts. He nearly made you jump when his lips brushed against your jugular. And eventually his big hand was around your neck, almost wrapping around it whole and his lips pressed against your most vulnerable part. You didn’t even thought he was awake, you were used to these kind of touches from him in his asleep state. It was like he was sensing how overwhelmed your thoughts became, always. Even in his sleep.

You were the first woman he was letting himself to be vulnerable with, and he’d be damned to let you go. Not when he finally had you within his hands. He knew he was a hard man to deal with. His wishes were unlimited like his needs for you. So he made sure to keep you close, at least whenever he wasn’t deployed. And god he hated deployments. Only if it wasn’t for his adrenaline fulfill and paychecks, he’d be more than happy to stay with his sweet girl, to fuck her until he was satisfied, to hold her tightly afterwards and treat her like the queen she was. Even when he was dreaming, he was dreaming of you. It’d be everything, either fucking you dumb or the time he finally convinced you to wear the ring he got for you. There was no in between. Every single thought of his was lead to you.

You felt him breath in deeply and unconsciously started to run his thumb up and down on your throat. It was some kind of strange routine for him. You doubted that even he was aware of it. When he finally spoke it was nothing but a ‘Morning.’ with his morning voice which never missed to make you feel your stomach tighten. It was 5 AM. You already memorized his routine by now. Never changing since the day he brought you. He finally moved to his side and you thought you were finally free but he didn’t let go. His hand around your throat pulled you closer to his eye level and other wrapped around your waist, sneaking underneath your -his- t-shirt. “Couldn’t sleep, meine kleine?” he purred as he tilted your chin up to get his morning kiss. You didn’t even protested him, you’ve lost your feistiness for long ago. “Did you missed your family? Your friends? Or your little cat?” he chuckled dryly when you didn’t returned his kiss. You weren’t protesting but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted you to love him as he loved you. In the other hand you were thinking of him nothing but a obsessive psycho. Most of the time you feel scared and the rest, you felt numb. Oh he knew how to push your buttons, he had watched you enough to know all your weaknesses. When you remained silent it only made him want to push you further. It was better to see you stare at him with hatred and anger. His eyes swept over your pretty features, desperately wanting the burning light back into your eyes. “Did you know that your parents almost had a heart attack in your funeral?” and he got what he wanted instantly, your addicting lips trembled and eyes lit up. A sight he would die for. “You’re nothing but a selfish, disgusting and a coward man.” your face twisted with hatred and irritation as you tried to squirm away from his grasp. Yet all your efforts were to not move an inch. His grip was too stronger to let you escape. “That’s what i’m talking about, meine kleine. Keep on hating me, call me disgusting and coward all you want. I only know i’m enough selfish to have you just f’me. Only mine.” Solely his. Yeah, you knew that from the start. All he wanted was to have you for himself. He didn’t even care if it was risky to fake your death and bring you into his house, hidden in the depths of the forests. Even his closest friends had no knowledge about that little hiding place of his. His favorite thing in the morning was to kiss you until you were whining and trying to push him off for some air. Oh how he loved to be all over you. “C’mere.” his hands stilled you so you wouldn’t be able to turn your head away. His lips were on yours in instant. He needed it like he needed to breathe. And he expected you to give your breath to him. If it was possible he’d love to just be able to breathe from your lips. His source of life. “Kiss me back.” he growled against your lips as he pulled your body against his as close as possible. The feeling of your smaller form against him, the power he had over you send shivers down to his spine. Soon he was begging-demanding for you to return his kiss. “Bitte, Maus! Just a kiss. Don’t get all shy now. Let me have it.” his hands were trembling from holding himself back just to not hurt you. Or his hands would grip your waist in a bruising force because he was getting more and more frustrated the more you denied him. There was really no room for you to think. He was stealing your breath only to give you his breath. When you finally captured his bottom lip he groaned into the kiss and his body shuddered. It always got you by surprise to see a man like him to get lost in these little things. He surely was a desperate man. Of course you noticed it, who wouldn’t when he pressed his thumb to your chin to dive into a more open mouthed kiss. His hands may be gentle but his lips were crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. When he captured your tongue to suckle, you let out the sweetest whine, he couldn’t help but press his growing bulge against you for some friction.

One of his leg crept against yours to bend his knee and press his muscly thigh against your clothed cunt. If you could describe him as a sin certainly he’d be the greediness. He knew no limit when it was you. His hunger and need never ending. You tried to tell him to stop but he was too lost in his mission to kiss you breathless to care for your pitiful whimperings. “Can’t get enough.” he mumbled when he finally let you breathe and you felt him leaning in again, his lips chasing yours as you moved your head away. “Stop. König!” his breath hitched in his throat but his gaze never left your kiss-swollen lips. “Scheiße. Say it again. Say my name.” he growled, you were constantly trying to keep the distance but whenever you moved an inch he just grounded his thigh against your dripping cunt. “Will you stop if i say it?” your raised eyebrow was so cute, you thinking that you could make a deal with him was even cuter. “Ja.” he whispered and his gaze dropped to your lips again, just to catch the way you pronounced his name. “König.” you mumbled so quietly it wasn’t even audible for you. “Can’t hear.” his brows furrowed in concentration, his gaze glued to your lips. “König.” your voice unintentionally sounded like a breathy whine when his thigh brushed against your sensitive clit. A deep humm vibrated from his chest with contentment, he got you where he wanted.

“Braves Mädchen. Good fucking girl.” his fingers tangled with your hair as he pulled you into another deep kiss. You could feel him grin against the kiss when you started to grind on his thigh. It fed his ego to have you squirming within his grip. There was nothing like to have you more and more desperate for him, not like he was for you. His desperation was too much for you. You would only want him when he got you all worked up but he was fraught with need. Just from your little touch he could get on his knees and worship your very being. His other hand moved among your bodies and went down, down and down until you felt it tugging at your sweatpants and then eventually throwing them off of the bed with the blankets that was covering you both. His lips were moving to your chin then your neck to bite then again back to your swollen lips. He could never get enough of your sweet taste and he’d hate to miss the opportunity to have you moaning into his lips when his fingers ran up and down on your slit. The sensation of having his fingers brushed against your clit left you moaning shakily. Just against his lips, just as he wanted. “Want me to play with that sweet pussy? Was that why you were being grumpy?” he chuckled lightly and breathless. He was nearly panting at that point but how could he miss the opportunity to get you talk to him. “I- oh my, i didn’t said that!” you snapped but he just kept brushing his fingers against your sensitive clit. He loved the way you looked at him in disbelief, all innocent and ready for him to manipulate. “Your body ‘s more honest, i won’t listen to you now.” a wolfish grin crept across his face as the pad of his finger drew tight circles on your clit. Your whole body shuddered and you instinctively gripped his forearm, his free hand was tangled in your head to make you look into his eyes while he played with you, but you didn’t tried to stop him. Not when he got you so close with just playing with you a little. He absolutely cherished the way your pretty lips got into an ‘o’ shape when his lengthy fingers suddenly entered your tight hole knuckle deep. You little gasp with the clenching of your tight pussy was all he wanted at that point. “That pretty brain of yours always goes dumb when i play with you.” he chuckled deeply, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt and making your legs shake with the pace of it. His fingers curled deliciously in your walls and his length, thick fingers never missed the spots that got you squirming and moaning. And eventually he made you cum, his fingers never slowing its pace and letting you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Pretty girl.” he purred and nuzzled his face into your neck. His fingers finally retreated from your sensitive sex and before you could react he was sucking his fingers, tasting how sweet you were for him. He’d love to go down and taste it from the first place…

(i know this isn’t what you wanted but i tried lmao）

( ; _ ; )/~~~

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

i’m so tired that i’m about to pass out lmao- bye

(～﹃～)~zZ

i can do a pt.2 if my bbgs wants. but god knows when ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[galliumyttriumreblogaccount]

Do you think if we start telling billionairs that 'if we keep on killing and harming endangered vertebrates, don't you think invertebrates will start taking their place' that they'd listen/j

[jeonggukieverse]

So I saw you were taking requests, how about writing on this idea that Jungkook is dating someone (they have been dating for a long time) who would always smile and say it's okay whenever Jk misses out on important things of y/n's life, and the boys would constantly hint that jk should give y/n more time. Jk gets super sad once she realises that he might be not making y/n happy anymore. A fluffy ending please. 💓 I hope this isn't too much ...

Mind & Music

Pairing: Composer Jungkook x Academic Female Reader

Genre: Established relationship, Absolutely Filthy Smut, Fluff, Angsty

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it up babes), mentions impregnation

Word count: 10k+

My first fic in ages! Feels good to be writing again~ This in not proofread because I was to excited to be uploading again hahah.

This request has been in my inbox for ages, thank you for being patient anon. Love ya 

Let me know how you guys like it 

- Ryeon <3

He isn’t here. You half expected him not to be. 

Still, you found yourself gazing into the audience half expecting to see that specific mop of black hair. Again, disappointment pulls at your heart as you still don’t find it.  

You hear your name being called and it snapped you out of your disheartening thoughts. You stood up and walked over to the podium and began your speech. 

“Thank you all for coming out today. It’s a privilege to be presented with this award. I am honoured to be standing here in front of you as the youngest recipient of the universities achievement of the decade award. Though I would not have been able to do this without the support and guidance of- “ 

You pause for a moment as you saw familiar smiling faces staring back at you in the crowd. Yoongi and Tae beamed at you from the back of the auditorium. Even from so far away, you could still feel the smiles radiating from their faces. You mirrored their expressions and met their proud grins with one of your own as you continued your speech. Having them here almost made all of your butterflies flutter away. Almost. Cause only the presence of one person could have caused them to disappear completely. 

After the ceremony was over, you rushed out to find your friends. You spotted them stood by the food table munching on some snacks. Your eyes locked with Tae’s first as you ran towards both men and rugby tackled them both into a giant bear hug. 

“Y/N-ah! Please, be careful! You could have knocked over my cucumber sandwich” You rolled your eyes at Taehyung ‘smocking tone. 

“Cucumber? That’s a little bland for you Kim Taehyung”

“First of all, don’t use my government name in public and second of all, it’s the best option this place has to offer. I mean, I get it, it’s Yonsei’s international focused program so it’s going to cater to foreigners but babe, you are in Korea! Where are the spices? Where is the flavour? Where is the taste?” He ranted while wiggling the pale looking sandwich in his hand. You giggled but you couldn’t deny he was wrong. 

“Hey! As a foreigner, I do not claim this cuisine” You retorted. 

“If you say so” Tae rolled his eyes. 

You shook your head at him then turned your attention to the quiet figure next to you. 

Yoongi smiled and held his hand towards you. 

“The youngest recipient of the achievement of the decade award, huh? Very impressive” 

Coming from anyone else, that sentence would have come out as painfully sarcastic but you knew coming from yoongi, it was the highest compliment he could have bestowed on a human being. You completely ignored his attempt at a hand shake and pulled him into a tight hug instead that he gladly accepted. 

Yoongi was the first friend you had made in Korea. You had met on a language exchange app. He was the only guy you had spoken to that hadn’t asked to go ‘eat ramen’ with you, go ‘see his cat’ or ask you to join a cult. But still you carried pepper spray in your bag when you agreed to meet him at the coffee shop because stranger danger is still a thing. It turns out you didn’t need it cause Yoongi was the sweetest guy you had ever met. Blunt as hell but lovely still. You recalled fondly that upon your first meeting that he had told you that your Korean pronunciation was like an elementary school kid. Did it sting? Absolutely. Was it the last time he would say something like that? Absolutely not. But he made sure you improved and got better. He decided midway through your friendship that learning English was ‘too troublesome’ for him. He had made up his mind that listening to you speak English occasionally was the best way to learn…Sure yoongs. 

It was actually Yoongi that introduced you to your boyfriend. Speaking of 

“So where is he?” 

Yoongi’s smile dropped slightly as he absorbed your change in mood. 

“He’s in the studio with Joon. They’re still working on finalising the soundtrack.” 

You forced a smile on your face, sensing the awkwardness in his voice. 

“Ah, its okay! He’s working, I’m happy he at least has a good excuse! If he was at home playing overwatch or something, I would have been super mad” you said hoping your joking tone would mask your disappointment. 

Taehyung chuckled but you know Yoongi could read you like a book. He knew how you really felt. 

“Let’s go! The rest of the guys said they’d be at the bar, right? I want to show them how cute I look in all my graduation gear. Seokjin is going to die of jealousy cause there is no way in hell he looked this good on his graduation” 

“He’s gonna murder you for even insinuating that” Tae gasped in feigned shock. 

“I’d like to see him try” you sang as you skipped in the middle of the two men. You hooked both of your arms in theirs and pulled them towards the exit. 

“There she is!” 

This was the first thing you heard before you were met with a flurry of applause and cheers as you stepped into the bar. 

You saw the gang sat at your regular booths now decorated with pink and white balloons and confetti. The table adorned with gifts and ‘congratulations banners’. Jimin, Seokjin, Hobi and Jennie stood there holding bottles of champaign. You felt your eyes start to well up, completely touched by the kind gesture. 

“Aww you guys” you spoke, voice wavering. 

“Ha! Pay up Seokjin, I told you Y/N would start crying before she even sat down! Thanks Y/N, you just won me 50000 won” Jennie exclaimed.

“No! Technically, she hasn’t cried! No tears have fallen from her eyes. C’mon Y/N keep it together” Jin begged.

“Sorry Jin, I gotta get my girl her money” You replied, blinking hard so the tears would run down your cheeks.

The group erupted in laughter as Soekjin took out his wallet. 

“That’s enough you two. Tonight, is about Y/N. Congratulations sweetheart.” Jimin said as he pulled you into a hug. You accepted his embrace but you found yourself looking over his shoulder to see if your boyfriend was amongst the crowd. He wasn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s about me! And my goal is to be as drunk as possible by the end of the night!” you proclaimed earning you more cheers from the group. Hopefully if you’re drunk, this feeling of disappointment will eventually go away. 

And it does. After 4 shots of soju, 2 vodka lemonades and a weird cocktail concoction Jimin force fed you, you were feeling better than ever. You were on the dance floor with Jennie having the time of your life. That was until you felt arms wrap around your waist. 

Oh hell no. 

You spun yourself around ready to fight whoever in the hell thought they could touch you unprovoked. Before you could administer your first blow, you were met with a pair of beautifully familiar brown eyes. 

There he was. Jeon Jungkook. 

Your fighting stance shifted as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck to envelop him in a warm hold. You inhaled his scent as he began to lovingly plant soft kisses in the crook of your neck. You felt a familiar fire start to burn at the pit of your stomach. His innocent gesture in your drunken state was igniting a reaction in you that you were eager to explore. 

“I’m sorry baby” he whispered in your ear. 

And just like that, the feeling was gone. At those three words your vagina dried up quicker than the Sahara Desert. Cause as quickly as you had forgotten, you were reminded once again that he had let you down again. But could you be mad? He was working. This had been his dream since he was a little kid and they were so close to finalising this project, they just needed to finish to complete some final composition. Could you be mad at him? You decide once again, that you couldn’t. Once again, you put his needs before yours. You pulled away from his shoulder and met his face. You plastered a fake smile on and put on another show. 

“Baby, don’t be silly! Don’t worry about it, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.” 

“Thank you, baby. I’ll make it up to you” 

“I know you will” 

And he did. 

The next day, Jungkook took you out to a beautiful dinner to celebrate your achievement. You loved him and you appreciated the gesture, you always did. But you couldn’t help still feeling hurt. 

You supported Jungkook, you always had and you always would. 

It’s funny to think about how devoted you were to him considering how rocky your fist interaction was.

Jungkook was Yoongi’s roommate. You and yoongi had been friends now for about four months before he finally decided to invite you over to his apartment. You had to say, this made you very nervous because Yoongi had always been such a private guy. You knew enough about him to say that you were friends but he always kept himself to himself. This was a part of him that was refreshing to you, really. He was excellent at establishing boundaries. You’ve never had a friend like that before. He was very mature but also very kind and very sweet. So, when he invited you over to game night with his friends you were ecstatic. It’s finally felt like he let you in and that you became real friends. 

And as excited as you were, you were equally nervous. Yoongi had told you bits and pieces about his friends but he assured you they were all really nice. 

You were still on edge but you assured yourself that you were a pleasant person! You had come out of your shell so much in the last couple of months. Your introverted personality had been spun on its head and you were now someone completely different. The constant support from Yoongi and your advancements in your career had made you feel absolutely unstoppable. 

And isn’t it amazing? How months of character development can be wiped away in 2 seconds. 

As soon as you walked into Yoongi’s apartment, you wished you could walk right back out because the second your eyes met with Jeon Jungkook it was very apparent, he did not like you. Like, at all. 

The boy, who had previously been laughing and talking to his friend, made eye contact with you and completely shut down. The smile fell from his face and his body suddenly became stiff and rigid. He looked at you for a millisecond before tearing away eye contact completely. 

You tried to ignore him. You really did because the rest of Yoongi’s friends were so cool. They made you feel welcome and you felt almost at ease. But still, your consciousness couldn’t help but wonder over to the pale, inked up boy stood in the kitchen dressed in an oversized t-shirt and ripped black denim. 

As much as you tried to ignore it, his coldness didn’t alleviate through the night as you’d hoped. In fact, not only did it not get better; it got worse as the night went on. As everyone kept drinking more and more you felt yourself become a little bolder. What was this guys problem? You haven’t done anything to him, he had no reason to be this hostile to you.

You raised this with Namjoon, another one of Yoongi’s roommates, who assured you that Jungkook was always a little weary of strangers. He was a shy person that had great difficulty adjusting to new people. His advice was to give him time to warm up to you and when you felt ready, try and start a casual conversation. 

But it wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried that. You’d made several attempts through the night to try and speak to him to at least extend the olive branch but each time he refused running away from you as if you had some kind of disease. You were sick of it.

You saw him alone on the balcony a few hours later and realised that this was your chance. You marched up to the doors and slipped out to give this guy a piece of your mind. Hearing the noise behind him Jungkook turned his head to be met with you. Again, panic started to run through his body as he tried to make an escape around you but you would not let him. 

“What is your problem?! What did I do to you why are you so weird towards me? I know Yoongi and Namjoon said that you are very selective with your friends and that’s cool but I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me so much. Fucking hell, we just met today! What could I possibly have done that hurt your feelings so much?!” You yelled at him. Your words slightly slurred. Liquid courage was really on your side tonight cause there was no way in hell sober Y/N could yell at him like this. Especially hear on the balcony, his beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight. And the way the evening breeze ruffled through his dark locks made him look like an actual prince.  

“Woah, where did you get the impression that I didn’t like you?”

Huh?! 

His almost idiotic question quickly snapped you out of your thoughts. Was he being serious right now? Or is he just making fun of you?

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t looked at me the entire night, you haven’t introduced yourself and every time I come over to you to try and get some kind of conversation going you run off. Now tell me why are you doing all of that and not speaking to me like a normal human being !?”

“Because I think you’re pretty! And I’m intimidated by you!”

Eh? 

You remained silent for what felt like forever. Did he really just say that or did you just imagine it? No, there is no way he woul- 

“Jesus Christ, say something! Anything!” He huffed. Now putting the half empty beer bottle to his lips to stop his mouth from humiliating him even further. 

Well, Jungkook thought, if he’s going to humiliate himself may as well fully go for it. 

“You think Yoongi hasn’t told us about you? He’s told us how incredible you are. About how you’re a transfer student at the most prestigious college in Korea. About how you’re on track to be the recipient for the ‘biggest brain ever in the whole century award’ or whatever its called. He made you sound so cool; I was banking on you at least being a little bit of an asshole but again, Yoongi’s stories proved us wrong. He told us about how you willing let a random little girl sit next to you for 2 hours at a café because she wanted to practice speaking to you to improve her English. And if im being honest, the more I heard the more I wanted to meet you but when you came in today, looking as fucking beautiful as you do. Which Yoongi coincidentally forgot to mention which is funny cause he mentioned every- fucking -thing else. When you came in…”

He paused and let out a sigh. Breathing for what seemed like the first time since beginning his outburst. 

“…When you came in, I realised how far away from me you were. And I dint have any business even speaking to you. We wouldn’t have anything in common and it would make me realise how inadequate I actually am”.

There was a pause again. Slowly, you began to let out a small giggle. Your small giggle quickly erupted into a full-bodied belly laugh. Your stomach began to hurt and your eyes began to water. You had to lean on the balcony door for support as you surely felt you would pass out. 

During your breakdown, Jungkook could only stare at you his head tilted to the side like a confused bunny. His eyes fell to the floor as your laughter pierced him like a knife and was the cherry on top of his mortification. 

“And you think Yoongi hasn’t told me about you, Jeon Jungkook?” You asked as your laughter subsided. 

“Jeon Jungkook, the musical prodigy. The Jeon Jungkook that could play the piano before he could even walk. The Jeon Jungkook that everyone refers to as the Golden Maknae because you’re so good at everything. Your friends are very vocal about not just your talents in your field but also socially. Apparently, you’re the reason you guys even exist as a friend group. You were the one to make friends with each of them and bring them all together. Do you know how impressive that is?! But I’m intimidating cause I’m a little smart and I’m not mean to children? You are something else Jeon Jungkook.” 

Jungkook paused again. A chuckle escaped his mouth as his laughter then began to mimic yours. You joined him again as both of you stood on the balcony laughing with or at each other. You must have looked like maniacs but at the time both of you were too buzzed to care. 

Either way, this broke the ice between both of you as you were both able to bypass each other’s extensive achievements and finally got to know each other as people.

You’ll never forget that night. You and Jungkook sat on that balcony from 10pm to 7am, long after the others had left or gone to bed. Just talking about anything and everything until you both reached a comfortable silence.

And as the sun was rising, welcoming a brand-new morning you nudged Jungkook’s hand. His head lazily turned towards yours and he met you with a dimpled smile. 

“For what it’s worth” You smiled back. 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

That was 5 years ago and you and balcony boy have been inseparable ever since. You had now been there for every single important moment in each other’s life. Well…Almost.

3 years ago, Jungkook and Namjoon got the opportunity to produce a music score for a short film. Despite the films small budget, it managed to exceed all expectations and ended up getting nominated for a golden globe! You were ecstatic and so fucking proud of him. You felt like his talents and hard work were finally getting realised.

Little did you know it would be a bittersweet moment for yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Naturally as more eyes were on the film, more ears were listening to the soundtrack. This had your boyfriend pulled off to here there and everywhere in front of directors and movie studios all interested in investing in the musical duo. And finally they had been hired to compose an entire score to a new movie for a huge studio! This movie in particular, Jungkook had begged and pleaded for. He said the scrip and film premise really spoke to him and were perfect and he needed to compose this movie. This was such a huge deal for them and again you were over the moon. But there were downsides. During the first year after their debut you saw Jungkook 10 times that whole year. You spoke almost every day but almost every conversation ended in an argument. It was either and argument about you feeling neglected or him not feeling supported and it sucked. It really took a toll on both of you. 

The second year was much better. This time for a bit more of a selfish reason. The film studio had its own recording studio in Seoul only a 20-minute walk from yours and Jungkook’s apartment! He was finally able to be home more and you could actually spend time together. And so you did. 

Honestly, the first 6 months Jungkook was back home all you guys did was fuck. It was constant and almost none stop. You fucked in every room of the house at all hours of the day. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. 

There was a day you both decided to take a break from having sex and just play some video games together. It took you both all of 5 minutes before sonic was long forgotten about and you were bent over the sofa. 

It was very romantic really. But even that joy was short lived. 

Jungkook prioritised his art. That was one thing you’d always respected and admired about him. Even the way he talked about music that wasn’t his, he painted the emotions of the music into words to explain to you the way a piece made him feel. He could describe to you in detail the way the crescendos bend in the moments before it’s about to fall. About how the vibrations of the violins is the most romantic sound ever to grace the human consciousness. He was an artist through and through. His music was him and he was his music. They were one and could not be separated. But that raised a question for you:

Where did you fit in? 

This is what made the dinner you were on now very melancholic. It was to make up for him missing your award acceptance. 

He was sorry. You knew he was but you couldn’t ignore that this was your forth make up dinner this year: First was your birthday, second was your anniversary, third was dinner with your parents (that they had specifically flown out to Korea for) and the forth was the award. The award he knew you were on track to get before he’d even met you. The award you’d poured your heart into getting and the one you’d sacrificed so much for. But he was sorry, right? Plus, he had promised to make it up to you. Next week your professor had invited you to the university to give a special lecture to other projected recipients of the award you’d just achieved. It was a high honour as these students were the best and the brightest students from countries all over the world and of all the recipients to give the lecture, they had requested you! There have been recipients before you that had gone on to win Nobel Peace Prizes but they had specifically requested you. And Jungkook was so proud of you.

“Are you okay, little mouse? You seem a little quiet tonight”. Jungkook asked, genuine concern apparent on his face. 

“I’m just thinking bunny boy.”

“About me?” He winked at you, almost cartoonishly. 

“Bunny boy, how can you cross my mind if you never leave it” you winked back at him with the same playfully cartoonish obnoxiousness. 

“Ooh that’s going on my list” 

For the past 5 years of your relationship Jungkook has been keeping a list of things you say to him that makes him smile. This list has always confused you cause it would always be the silliest stuff. Once, when he was sleeping, you went and snooped through his notes app just to see this list and you couldn’t believe it. You were expecting the most romantic phrases or compliments that fluffed his ego but instead, the top three (out of four thousand!) were:

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home” 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

You woke him up immediately to ask about it. But his only defence was they were phrases you said that make him smile. You’re understanding of his list was ‘irrelevant’ to him. 

God, you loved him. 

“You’re so silly. But seriously Kookie; don’t worry, I’m good. Plus, you’re the one who’s been talking my ear off all night. I’m surprised you’ve even noticed me being quite” You quipped playfully, taking a sip of your wine. 

“Ooh, someone’s feisty tonight. I forgot what red wine does to you” He quipped back; eyebrows now raised highlighting the metal bar that accented it. 

God, he was cool.

“How could you forget? The first time we met I was wine drunk” 

“Ah yes, how could I forget. You get very mouthy off of red wine. Don’t worry, I know how I can put that mouth to good use” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” You yelled at him in a whisper.  Eyes darting around to see if anyone had heard your boyfriends lewd comment. Luck for you the other couples around you’re were too infatuated with their partners to even notice you guys. 

“Well, while were in pubic, put that mouth to better use and tell me about your day” he said, now leaning back in his chair. 

“Well, my day was pretty calm actually. It makes a change. I was walking Ban and bumped into Holly and Yoongi. We were talking about next week and he asked if he could bring a plus one. Wink, wink” 

“A plus one! Is Yoongi dating?! In the 12 years I’ve known the guy he has never shown romantic interest in anyone. I can’t even imagine his type. Did he give you any information”?! 

“Nah, you know how he is. Yoongi will only let you know what he wants you to know” 

“True. What’s going on next week?” 

You paused for a second and started chuckling. He was kidding. He had to be. 

The smile then fell from your face when he didn’t share in your laughter. 

“Oh my god you’re serious? You forgot about my lecture”?!

He gasped and began coughing as the bite of steak he had just put into his mouth had just gone down the wrong pipe.

“Of course not baby, how could I forget something so important to you” he continued to splutter. 

You stared back at him. The good mood you had felt a moment ago had completely evaporated. You waited for him to gain his composure so he could explain himself cause boy he had some explaining to do. 

“Just for giggles and fun and jokes, what date is your lecture again?” 

“The fifteenth” you said, shortly. 

His face fell and his eyes stayed stuck on his plate.

“Baby…Please don’t hate me. That’s the night we have the final run through of the soundtrack with the director. I can’t miss that…I’m so s- “

“You’re so sorry. Im sure you are.” You stood up. 

You grabbed your purse and you stormed out away from him. You could hear him calling your name but the burn of your throat as you fought back the tears overpowered his calls. 

How could he? No, how could you? How could you ever expect anything different. You will always be second to his first love and that was a pain you had to learn to live with. 

The moment you left the restaurant and the cold air of the night hit your face you decided to just let the tears fall. You sobbed as you walked further and further away from him. 

You heard the rhythmic pounding of laced up docks hitting the pavement behind you. 

“Y/N please I’m sorry. Just let me explain…”

“No! There is nothing you could say that would fix this! I have always been there for you! I have supported you from the very beginning! Every piece of music you have ever played for me I have cherished as if it were my own and you used to support me too! At my first presentation you were there. Cheering at the top of your lungs in a silent room. You used to be my number one cheerleader but now when all I ask of you, is to just show up? You can’t do it. And every chance I give you to fix it. You let me down. Jungkook, I need some time away from you. I’m going to be staying with Yoongi for a few days”. 

You said nothing more. You spun around and walked the 2 minutes to Yoongi’s apartment. And true to your word you stayed with them till the day before your lecture. 

Despite being a creative Jungkook worked like clockwork. Every single day at the same 3 times a day Jungkook would try to call you. The call was always followed by an ‘I love you’ text but today was different. After the second call of the day the text that followed said:

“I know this is such a fucking reach and such a huge ask but would you mind swinging around our apartment today at around 3? Director Anderson would like to speak to you. I know you probably still need your space so I’ll be in the apartment but I’ll be in the bedroom. I’ll come out only when you’ve left, I promise. Please come” 

He really had some fucking nerve. That ‘please come’ at the end of his text almost sent your blood boiling. 

“You should talk to him,” said a familiar voice. 

Your turned your whole body around on the sofa so Yoongi could see your eyes roll at his suggestion. 

“Yoongs, I feel like it shouldn’t be me your having this conversation with. You should try telling him not to break commitments to people” 

“Oh I have! That’s why I’m telling you, you need to speak to him. I know it’s none of my business but I think you guys just need to talk it out. And even if you don’t have anything to say, at least hear the boy out” he finalised before turning on his heels and heading back into his room. 

That wasn’t the speech you were expecting but it did calm you down enough to re-read Jungkook’s text. Your boiling rage had now been replaced with intrigue and curiosity. The meeting was requested by the director of the film? This was very unusual. You had heard about the director in passing but you had never spoken directly before. But you had decided that you were going to go. You we determined to look the man who practically stole your boyfriend for years in the face and lecture him about respecting his colleagues work/life balance! Plus it will be good practice for your lecture tomorrow. Two birds, one stone. 

It would be an absolute lie to say that you weren’t missing Jungkook. You knew the apartment would smell like him and you hoped you may be able to swipe one of his t-shirts to sleep in before you leave. 

You ubered over to your apartment and stood before the oak front door feeling oddly nervous. To took a shaky breath and inserted the passcode: 5318008 (you and Jungkook were children at heart cause you both laughed for hours after agreeing upon the code).

Upon hearing the beeping of the lock to confirm the door was unlocked you pushed it open. You stepped in, removed your shoes and couldn’t help the solemn smile that crept onto your face. Jungkook’s scent hit you as soon as you entered the room. 

God, you missed him. 

You strode inside and were met with a recognisable figure sitting upright on your sofa. His back stood tall and his hair was a mousy brown colour. It was so bizarre seeing him here. There was an uncanny feeling, seeing this man you knew but had never met sat in your living room.

He must have felt you staring at him because his head soon whipped around. 

“Y/N. So nice to finally meet you.” He stood up and walked over to you shoving his hand out towards you. You shook it hesitantly. His hands were cold and clammy but his eyes were warm. He was tall and chubby but he wasn’t foreboding, in fact he seemed rather friendly Damnit. You wanted him to be an asshole, it would have made telling him what was on your mind so much easier. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr Anderson” you said as coldly as you could muster. 

“Mr Anderson is so formal, just call me James. Although its strange. We’re meeting for the first time but it feels as if I have already met you” His German accent becoming more apparent as he spoke. 

“And why is that?”

“Ah, that is why I asked Jungkook to invite you over. Although it does feel strange extending you an invitation to your home” he chuckled to himself. 

He invited you to sit down on the couch, it was only then that you noticed a laptop connected to your TV. 

“What’s all this?” you asked. Genuinely curious. 

“I have a little something for you to watch. It may make explaining why I asked you hear a little more apparent. Please, have a seat my dear” he guided you to the sofa as you plopped yourself down. Eyes glued to the screen. 

You anticipated what would happen next when a familiar tune began to play. You knew it was Jungkook’s composition as soon as you heard it. Suddenly an animated mouse popped up on the screen. She was in the wings of a stage, obviously nervous but she strolled out into the spotlight in front of a stoic audience of other animals. Just as she was about to speak there was suddenly a loud whooping from the crowd that interrupted the slow score. It was a bunny. A bunny with banners and whistles and confetti and he was cheering for her. The others in the audience told him to be quite but he exclaimed ‘That’s my girlfriend’ still as proud as can be. 

The trailer played on and you slowly started to get it. It was you. This little mouse was you. Tears welled up in your eyes as yours and Jungkook’s entire relationship began to play in front of you. All your highs and your lows. It was beautiful and the accompaniment of his music made the tears pour from your eyes until it was over. 

You turned back to James and attempted to speak but only blubbers could come out. 

“Let me explain Y/N. When Jungkook and Namjoon came out to LA to play some stuff for the studio the only thing the boy would speak about, other than music, was you my dear. Jungkook and I sat for hours speaking about you. He told these elaborate stories about how you met, who you are and about the adventures you got into together. It was indeed very fascinating to me, you almost seemed like a heroine in his very own story. He bragged about your achievements almost as if they were his own. According to him, you are the smartest woman on the planet my dear and he would not be told otherwise. Oh, congratulations on the achievement of the decade award! And the youngest recipient at that? Incredible work my dear, just incredible. Jungkook went into great detail about what a huge deal that was. Needless to say the day after the networking event I went home and began writing the script for ‘Mouse & Bunny – Mind & Music’. I had just never seen someone so passionate about another person. His passion for you far outweighs his passion for his craft, that much was apparent, it was awe inspiring and I had to bring It to the screen. I think that is why Jungkook fought so hard to be the lead composer for the soundtrack. He wanted to intertwine the two loves of his life”. 

You sat there in complete shock for a moment before jumping into James’s arms and engulfed him into a hug. His moustache tickled your shoulder as he chuckled and said he was happy to have cleared things up. As he packed up his laptop, he was asking you so many questions, probably attempting to confirm the validity of Jungkook’s stories: 

“Did you really fight a microwave” 

“I most certainly did” 

“Did you really use protein powder as flour for a cake?” 

“I most certainly did” 

“Did you really not know the earth went around the sun?” 

“That son of a-… no comment” 

He snorted as he packed up the last of his things. You walked him to the door but he turned to you before saying his final goodbyes. 

“Y/N, it seems wrong for me to give the final approval for the soundtrack. I’ve heard it and I know it’s the most beautiful accompaniment to the film but it seems only fitting that the muse gets to give the final say so. Take the afternoon to listen to it and pass your notes to Jungkook. If you like it, I’ll approve it. So there should be no need for my originally planned final listen tomorrow. Jungkook seemed like he wanted to attend something much more important tomorrow anyway” He winked at you as he closed your door. 

You didn’t even wait for the door to fully shut before you were sprinting to your shared bedroom.

The pitter patter of your bare feet slapping the wood floor could almost not be heard over the beating of your heart. You bust open the door to see the love of your live leaning over his piano. 

You must have given him such a fright as his big boba eyes were the first to greet you. 

“Y/N I-“

You crashed your lips onto his, completely cutting him off. 

“I am the stupidest person in the world.” 

Jungkook laughs, standing up beside you. 

“No little mouse, why do you say that” he said with a soft smile while he caressed your tear-stained face. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t just ask! I’m so- “

“Even if you asked, I probably wouldn’t have told you. I wanted things to be a surprise. But baby, first I needed to apologise, like really apologise” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for” 

“Yes, I do. Ever since I met you, you brought light into my world. I wanted to express to you my love in the best way I knew how and this project, to me, was the best way for me to put into the world how I felt about you. But I was selfish, I took my expression of love and put it above all the things I knew you had work so hard to achieve. In a way, I put my love above yours and I will forever be sorry and I can assure you, it won’t happen again. I love you Y/N L/N” 

You reward his confession with another kiss, pulling him into your arms soon after. 

you sighed, almost longingly. “Whatever shall I do with my bunny boy?” 

“Whatever shall I do with my little mouse?” Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear, drawing soothing circles on your hip. 

He gently placed you down against your mattress. You clung to him and giggled  

You stay quiet, appreciating the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. 

God, he smelled good. 

“Okay,” he purrs, caressing your hip as he repositioned himself more securely. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh? A week away? It felt more like a lifetime” You nodded in response. Terrified that if you spoke, your voice would fail you.

Jungkook shifted, the hand that was previously on your hip swiftly fell over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my smart girl?” he hums as his hand slipped between your thighs. “My smart, pretty, intimidating girl?” 

Your eyes flutter closed and you revel in the feeling of him running his fingers over the front of your panties. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure.

“Ah,” you hissed.

“Hmm?” he says, mouthing against the crook of your neck. His mouth feels so warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “My smart girl doesn’t have anything smart to say?” 

“N-No,” you tried to scoff back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands were getting braver now as he slipped his hand beneath your waistband, and touched your wet heat head on. “Baby.”

Jungkook chuckled at your immediate submission for his touch and took the opportunity to connect his mouth back you yours. You whimpered in surprise, legs trembling as he gets to work circling your hardening bud. Your thighs are squirming, clenching around his hand every few moments. 

You bit down a whine. “I was just…” you trailed off as he teased his index and middle fingers against your opening. 

“Just what baby? Just thinking?” he said as he finally pushed himself off of you and propped himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze became a familiar dark. He moved at a godlike speed as he snatched his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs. 

Jungkook pulled away from you and rolled his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins pulling off his shirt. You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him. 

He threw his shirt off to the side of the bed, his sleeve of tattoos that wrapped around his bicep and crawled down his chest were wonderfully free now. “My eyes are up here, little mouse” he said and your eyes immediately shot back up to meet his gaze. He leaned towards you, muscled arms coming to cage you in against the headboard. 

“No one is looking at your eyes bunny boy” you attempted to quip back. Completely failing to mask the tremor in your voice. Jungkook always had a way of making you feel powerless under his gaze when he was on top of you like this. 

His hand grabbed beneath your knee and yanked you unforgivingly until you were slumped down onto your back with a squeak. You settled with his knee pressed directly against your core. Jungkook stayed towering over you. 

He placed his hand gently around the base of your neck as he leaned in to properly grind his thigh into you. “Is that right? No one’s looking at my eyes, huh?” he murmured darkly, thumb pressing a little harder into the side of your neck. You sobbed, soaked panties rubbing roughly against his leg. 

“Are you gonna touch me?” you interrupted, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook pursed his lips together in thought. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Not too sure yet.”

You whined. “Jungkook, please,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckled, running his hand up your waist and taking your dress with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouthed at your neck. “Cute,” he cooed. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You trembled, chest heaving into him as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gulped. “You just do it better.” Jungkook followed your admission with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

You mewled in response, determined not to give him the satisfaction of answering his question. Cause you both new the answer was yes. He made you cum so much better than you could.

“Remove your clothes for me...” he whispered gruffly yet sweet as he pulled himself from you. 

You hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes you caught Jungkook’s mouth falling open in awe at the semi-nude sight of you before him. After finally removing your bra and panties, you threw them to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you observed how he licked his lips shamelessly as he took in the view of your beautifully perky nipples that drove him absolutely insane. You looked into his deep eyes, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth and Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from palming his cock over the confinements of his pants – watching you get worked up just for him. 

“Are we that type of couple, Jungkook?” you whispered his name sweetly as you slowly climb on top of him. You straddled him, pushing your breasts flush against his chest.

“Which type are you referring to?” he murmured back as his hand moved back to between your thighs – feeling the damp patch of your essence now overflowing. You felt his cock pulsate in anticipation.

“The ones who have an argument, then have angry make up sex?” you giggled as you began pressing soft, delicate kisses along his neck. Jungkook’s eyes shut tightly as he felt your teeth nip at him – causing a breath of air to leave his lungs while you began sucking on his skin – leaving your mark on him. The next thing you knew, Jungkook pulled your mouth away from his neck and flipped you over. He was now hovering over you and began continuing on you what you had started on him

“Jungkook...” you let his name occupy your mouth and your thoughts as he suckled on your skin – alternating between kissing you, biting you and dragging his teeth further south to your boobs.

“Let us see how much of a good girl you can be for me...” you suddenly felt his breath dangerously close to the mound between your legs, before his hands began kneading and gripping at your ass-cheeks. Jungkook moved his face right into you – just shy of his nose touching your folds from behind as he took in your sweet scent. He wanted to devour you whole – but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to hear you beg and plead for your own pleasure and release. You trembled at the contact of his index finger running along your slippery lips, feeling it hastily stroke your bud before he pulled it back down again – repeating the same action over and over.

 Jungkook smirked at the noises coming from you; whimpers of frustration, want and need. He knew you were like putty in his hands with the way your lewd wetness heavily coated his finger; and he would have wanted it no other way.

“Please Jungkook...please stop teasing me – I need you so fucking badly I – “you rolled your head to the opposite side – placing your blazing cheek against the pillow in an attempt to extinguish the apparent fire that was burning your entire face. You knew he was making you wait for it – and you both simultaneously loved and hated it in a hundred different ways. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, along with moans of satisfaction as his tongue continued to explore every inch of you. The scandalous sounds from his tongue and his lips filled the room as he continued to consume you. 

“I’m so close Jungkook – fuck...” you moaned a string of further curses as he sped up his movements – his finger now wiggling heavily over your clit as his tongue probed you even deeper than before.

“Are you really?” he hummed, slowing his pace as you whined in response. “Hmm...I can’t have you coming undone on me just yet little mouse...where’s the fun in that? Plus, I had to wait a whole week for you to come back. Do you think I would let you cum so quickly?” he grinned coyly as he moved away from you – licking the remainder of you off his lips as you damn near cried out in anger at being denied your orgasm when it was seconds away.

God, he’s such an asshole. 

“You can cry and whine all you want...but you’re not getting anything unless I think you deserve it; do you understand me, baby?” he cooed with the heaviest form of sarcasm you had ever heard as he began coating his erection with your wetness – giving himself a few strokes as he smirked and watched you squirm in defeat underneath him. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, before turning onto your stomach as fast as you could to avoid his arrogant gaze. 

As you laid faced away from him, all you could feel was the thick width of his cock resting between your cheeks as Jungkook took it upon himself to slowly grind himself into you – giving him the minimal amount of pleasure and you the maximum amount of excruciating frustration.

“Yes! I understand...please...I’ll do anything, please!” you shamelessly pleaded – hearing the desperation in your own voice as you moved your ass backwards into him. Jungkook chuckled before he began sprinkling light kisses the whole way up your spine – the fleeting feeling of his lips leaving damp patches on your skin being enough to make it feel like he was burning you with desire for more of him.

“Good girl” Jungkook praised you – letting you feel the tip of his cock resting just on top your drenched entrance. And – without warning, he quickly eased himself in as far as he could go; hearing you let out breathy moans and whimpers as he pressed deeper.  

“Louder” he commanded as he leaned back – looking down to view his member leave your tight walls – much to both of your displeasures. “I want the entire world to know who’s fucking your pussy like this right now” he slammed back inside you, feeling your slickness engulf him as your screams filled the room. 

“That’s it Y/N, that’s my good girl” Jungook growled as he began pounding you into you at an unforgiving pace. You cried and sobbed feeling his cock reach deeper inside you with each time his skin smacked against yours. Jungkook relished in the look of your ass every time it bounced off his lower abdomen as he continued pummelling into you mercilessly – when he saw your hand reach back to try and hold his. Knowing that you needed to feel the security of his grasp, Jungkook leaned over your back and laced his fingers with yours – giving you fast, deep strokes of his cock while you felt it slam against your precious nerves inside you. Jungkook knew you were already on the verge of letting go from the way your voice got louder and higher – along with your walls constricting around his member so tightly that he had to almost hold his breath to not finish before you.

“Cum for me – you earned it sweetheart, let go and let me hear your beautiful voice” he cooed into your ear. And, like his words were the only thing that could set you free, you came hard around him while you closed your eyes tight as you felt your orgasm pour out of you. Jungkook coaxed you through your cries of ecstasy as he slowed his thrusts down – still keeping their depth while his groans harmonised with your own voice in the wake of your pleasure. And, just as quickly as it came, your high left your body – leaving you slumped face down into the pillow with no will to do much else other than breathe. You felt Jungkook slowly slide out of you – feeling the emptiness he left behind while he began pulling you up and back into his chest, his hands then roaming over every inch of your skin he could find.

“Did that feel good, baby?” he purred, nibbling on the bottom of your ear and letting you know that he was still standing to attention with the way his member pressed into your ass. You let out an airy chuckle, still not able to maintain a coherent train of thought.

“Mmhm” you hummed, reaching behind you to let your hand rest on the back of his neck, letting your fingers get lost in his hair as Jungkook dotted your neck with kisses once more.

“I can’t get enough of you – no matter how much you give me, no matter how much I take...” he murmured on top of your skin, making you shiver from head to toe and smile from ear to ear.

“What are you waiting for then, bunny boy?” you replied, turning around to him and coming face to face with his dark hooded eyes. “I want you to take more...take me, Jungkook” you mewled as Jungkook’s hands began caressing all his favourite parts of you – your hips and the tops of your thighs included. 

You swapped positions and you positioned yourself on top him. As you did, Jungkook quickly pulled his legs underneath your bottom before crossing them below you, while you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist so that you were both in a sort of Lotus Flower position. You looked down, seeing his head perfectly level with your tits as he began kissing and nipping at your hardened nipples – making you reel from the sensitive sensation that coursed through you. You observed his hand as it slipped underneath you – grabbing a hold of his pulsating member and angling it right before your welcoming entrance once again.

“Baby...aren’t you forgetting something?” you questioned immediately in reference to the fact that he was about to enter you whilst you both found yourself in the most romantic baby-making position known to man. Jungkook shook his head as he looked up into your eyes, his stare completely melting you from the inside out.

“I want to feel you when I cum inside you...I want to make you mine in every way possible...will you let me?” his husky voice travelled to every single part of your soul as you let your mouth hang agape. 

“But – what if...you know?” you replied, wondering how he felt about the most obvious thing that could happen from not using protection. 

“You have nothing to worry about, Y/N” he whispered softly, feeling himself press against your small opening as the tip of his cock became engulfed by your slick tightness. “’If it happens, it happens. I would want no other woman to mother my children” you both let out an intense moan in turn as he pushed his way inside you. When Jungkook thought about you carrying his first child and bringing the product of your love into the world; with him becoming a father and you becoming a mother, it filled him with delicate feelings of paternal happiness he knew he could never feel with anyone else but you. 

You bit your lip hard as you rolled your hips at a rhythmical pace into his – feeling every inch of him curving inside you. Jungkook placed one hand below your bottom, while cradling your back with his free arm as a means to let you set the pace of your love making, but still letting him have full control over your every movement. You felt wave after wave of pleasure strike you as your clit moved flush against Jungkook’s body that was tight against yours; and your moans continued to spill from your lips as he looked up into your face – his eyes full of life and love as he seemingly peered right into your soul. In contrast to Jungkook’s way of asserting himself over you just moments ago, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he let his mouth hang open – panting and groaning at the feeling of pleasure from being inside you and so close to you.

“I love you...so much, Jungkook” you managed to speak – feeling your body almost grow limp from having little to no energy left as you felt your sweat drip down your temples. Sensing your exhaustion, Jungkook helped you lay down on your back to the bed – keeping himself still lodged inside you as he rested himself between your legs. His thrusts were slow, deep and meaningful as he pressed his forehead to yours and took your hands in his – pinning them to the bed while he felt your pulse rocket as he pushed you once again to your second orgasm of the evening. You felt like the entire world was spinning as you attempted to moan and writhe in fulfilment – but unfortunately, no sound left your mouth as you produced a silent cry in the wake of Jungkook’s pleasure-filled stokes that reached deeper and deeper within you.

“And I... I love you Y/N” Jungkook’s lips found yours for the millionth time as he felt himself twitch inside of you – his entire seed mixing with your juices as he came deep within you. He tensed every single one of his muscles, letting you swallow each of his moans as he slowed down gently.

“I’m so happy that you’re mine...” he almost whimpered as his movements ceased – before letting himself collapse on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck while you raised your arms up and over his back to hug him even closer to you.

“And I’m so happy that you’re mine, too” you kissed the top of his head – still feeling his cock buried inside of you as you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

Jungkook raised his head a fraction to look at you – his appearance both thoughtful and endearing as he held on to you. “I really am sorry Y/N. I never want you to feel like your aren’t a priority to me” he blinked gently as you continued to listen to his heartfelt, post love making thoughts.

“I know” you replied quietly, tracing the muscles along his back with your fingers. “And I’m sorry too. I guess we both just need to communicate a little better”.

“My Y/N – You are my world. You – you are my everything. I used to not understand what people meant when they said that to someone they loved, because before you – I thought music was my only love. But every day I spend with you, you give me a hundred more reasons to adore you. I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that.”

You felt yourself well up at his words of endearment. He really was your world and you now knew for a fact that you were his too. 

“Ooh, I forgot to say” you interrupted yours and Jungkook post love making silence. 

“James said I could approve the soundtrack for our film” 

Jungkook smiled to himself upon hearing you refer to it as your film. 

“If that’s what James said, who am I to undermine the director.” He declared. 

“The songs are on my phone in the Media Folder but im gonna hop in the shower while you listen. Cause it will break my heart if you don’t like them” he chuckled, half joking half serious. 

“I know im going to love them babe. But you go and take your shower, I’ll be right here when you come out”. 

He left with a smile. 

You scrolled through his phone to find the music files and tears began to fill your eyes once again as you read the tracklist: 

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home” 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

And the list went on. It was his list. His list of your phrases that made him smile. Before you could even finish reading the tracklist, you ran to the shower you embrace your bunny boy and show him for a second round how much you loved him. 

Although, if you had taken just a few moments to read the tracklist, Jungkook is sure you would have loved the last song on the soundtrack. It was the only title that wasn’t you contribution, it was his: 

12. “I hope she’ll marry me”

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

Hope ya'll enjoyed it! My requests are open, feel free to send em across :)

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Craving you

Dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - you take a job working for Maximoff industries without realising your bosses obsession with you before it's too late.

Warnings - stalking, creepy Wanda, dark Wanda, stalker Wanda, begging, masturbation(pls I can't spell it), humping, finical abuse? Finger sucking, gagging, tears, not proofread, lmk if there's anything else I should add!!

Words- 1.9k

A/n - I've never written anything dark or like this before so even more than usual all feedback is appreciated!!! <333

Wanda Maximoff. Over achieving ruthless ceo with no weakness, we'll that was until you began working for her company. So distracting to her and her cruel attitude with you bright energy and wide smiles, how could she be mean to someone.. someone like you. Your long floral dresses which she noticed always had matching earrings and sweet smelling perfumes which reminded her of the most gorgeous flowers, she made notes to find out the brand of perfume so she could spray it across her house to remind her of you. From the minute you'd walked in on your first day she knew she wanted you, she needed you, she wanted you all to herself but for now she was content letting you continue your job unaware of her lingering gaze on your body as she'd admire every curve and edge while you walked around her office. Unaware of the way your things seemed to go missing and the tiny cameras that began to occupy all angles of your cubicle room.

Your first few weeks she kept a close eye, making sure you were settling into the office and that everyone was being nice to you.. but not too nice of course. She watched through the cttv as you made coffees for the other workers in the break room, what a sweet soul. Wanda took notice of how other coworkers looked at you making sure to move the ones who were getting too bold to another department, its not that she didn't want you to find love it just had to be with the right person, with her. She learnt your interests from eavesdropping and searching your computer after hours.. this wasn't creepy was it? No of course not she brushed off the thought, she just wanted to get to know her employees this was normal. All bosses did that. She since found out your favourite colour; lilac. That you had two pet cats called Marlo and Nixie also that they were your screensaver for your office computer. She also discovered your love for your journal, selfishy she always hoped you'd forget it after work so Wanda could read through every page and discover every little detail about your life.

It only seemed as the weeks went on her obsession seemed to grow. Finding a reason to move your cubicle closer to her office saying there was a leak where your old one was and that you'd be much safer here. The pre mentioned perfume well she found out what it was, gucci flaura. She'd found it whilst rifling through your bag while you were in the bathroom. Your salary wasn't enough to afford perfumes like this so it must of been a gift so she made sure to buy you some in preparation for your next birthday. After this the stalking . More thorough resarch began, she searched up all your social media's, found old jobs, checked extended families Facebook, somehow managed to hack your home Internet after she located your current home, a shared two bed flat in a bad area of town, god when you were her's you'd never have to share such a dingy flat the rest of your life. Back to the Internet she tracked everything you looked up or bought, occasionally deleting searches she didn't approve of. Next she worked on getting into your home's security cameras... just to make sure your safe, this city is dangerous after all.

Wandas little obsession was only growing and was beginning to get a little for lack of  better words.. depraved. Shed stay up late at night watching you change in your apartment touching herself to the gorgeous silhouette of your body. She'd spray the perfume you wore around her room before humping her pillow. She followed you around town from a distance capturing pictures of you to add to her collection. Your sweetness only furthered this, the confused pout on your face when you realised your cardigan had gone missing without a trace, deciding to ask Wanda about it you missed her smug smirk instead just accepting the answer she gave you.

"Maybe you didn't bring it in darling. I mean I know how forgetful you are. Your lucky we keep around such a clutz like you." In return you'd nodded your head and left her office feeling like an idiot for even suggesting someone could have taken it.

Wanda was slowly winning you over, atleast that's what she thought until she saw you getting a little too close to a fellow coworker, Marcus. If only you could've felt her glare through the security camera. For a little bit she decided to let it go assuming Marcus was just being creepy with you ans that moving him to another department would do the trick. That only led her to see you were the one initiating the flirting with Marcus. How could you do this to her, Wanda felt her heart shattering as she threw her mug at the office wall in a fit of pure rage. You were hers. Her property. What could you not understand about that?

You'd left her no decision. She'd make you understand your place even if she had to hurt you, her precious.

You were called into Wandas office one day, unaware of her desire for you, you had assumed nothing of it hoping perhaps got a pay rise. I mean you'd been working tooth and nail recently maybe she was going to prove your work hadn't gone unnoticed. You quietly knocked on her office door and she immediately recognised the way you knocked. How couldn't she? She loved you after all.

"Y/n come sit." She tells you after letting you in. As you enter you pick up on the tension in the air, the dark edge to her voice as she spoke to you. This wasn't going to be good but you couldn't think of what you'd done. You sat back nervously in the chair infront of her desk, fearing what to come. Wanda gazed at you quietly, how cute you looked when scared. The way your eyes widened and you bit your gum, adorable. Maybe she should have done this long ago.

"I'm sure you know why your here-." She starts.

"No.. I don-.."

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking." Wanda snaps as she hears your voice making you go quiet and shrink further into your chair wishing you could dissappear.

"Now as I was saying I'm sure you know why your here. For your inappropriate harassment of Marcus." Your jaw dropped at this news, there had to be some confusion you'd never harass anyone. You were about to speak opening your mouth to do so when she held up a hand to shush you. "We have witness statements from other colleagues to back up this statement. Marcus came to us three weeks ago saying you were making unwanted advances on him, so we moved him to another department." She pauses staring at you, judging you at least that's what you saw. You felt like the world was crumbling around you. You'd never do this to anyone this had to be a mix up. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes and Wanda had to hold back a malicious grin, she had you just where she wanted you. "Today he handed in a letter of resignation stating you were becoming unbearable and beginning to scare him." Oh it was laughable the look on your face. Of course Marcus had never really resigned, Wanda had fed him the exact same story and fired him. "So that comes to you y/n. We can't have people scaring off and harassing other employees here." She can barely hold the excitement back anymore.

"So what? I'm fired?" You whispered in response, terrified for the answer you knew was coming. You hadn't done anything wrong but it was clear Wanda had made up her mind about you.

"Exactly."

She looked at you like a predator stalking it's prey.

"But.. but I needed this job.."

"You'll find another." Her voice was stern, unchanging no matter what you said.

"Please.." You managed to muster the singular word out and you swear your saw her face contort into a sick grin.

"Say it again darling."

"Please." There it was an unsettling sickening smile that made you want to squirm back in your chair.

"Hmm.. well when you beg like that." She pauses thinking for a second. "On your knees." She commands in a voice foreign to the one she usually spoke with you in.

You looked up to her hesitant thinking this could be here twisted idea of a joke but the look in her eyes made it clear she wasn't. Slowly you step off the chair and kneel down on the floor. She walks round the table placing your head against her thigh, tilting your head up to make eye contact with her and beginning to wave her hand through your hair. "Beg again. Like you mean it."

You were horrified at this idea and you knew it was wrong but you couldn't help but feel like some of this was right, the soothing feeling you felt with her hand knotted in your hair. "Please Wan-.." A harsh slap was placed against your face as you called her by her first name. Correcting yourself you began again. "Please Mrs Maximoff.." Her touch was soft again now, the hand that just hit you now gently caressing your cheek and wiping tears from it. "..please give me my job back. I really need it to pay my bills and to make ends meet. I need this job, it's the only place I've ever worked that pays me enough to survive. And I know you don't believe me but I never did those things to Marcus.. I dont know why he said that." More tears fall and you open your mouth to continue but she places her slender finger to your lips before you can speak.

"Hmmm.. your very convincing sweetheart." Her finger presses against your mouth demanding access and when you don't allow it another slap hits you forcing your mouth to open allowing her fingers inside. "Sorry about that darling I don't mean to be rough.. you see you've just made me very angry today. Suck." She commands you again and this time you listen not wanting to experience more stinging in your cheek. Slowly and a little reluctantly you suckle on her two fingers. Running your tongue along them. "Good girl." Her other hand massages your hair.

"Now it just wouldn't be appropriate to give you your old job back.. but I can think of a better one. You can work for me or should I say under me." A low laugh escapes her mouth as she looks down at your head lay against her thigh. "You could be my personal assistant. Help me out. Please me. Serve me. Now what do you think of that dorogoy?" Before letting you speak she forces her hand down your throat causing you to gag. She then removes them and licks your drool off them.

"Uhm.." It doesn't take you long to think of an answer. You needed a job and Wanda was being kind enough to offer you one again. "Yes please Mrs. Maximoff."

"That was the correct choice dear." Her finger strokes your jaw line. "You've no idea how long I've been waiting to see you like this. All mine." You want to flinch at her words but all you feel is a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[jyoongim]

AKSNDGWIBS

“This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

This ^^ with 💥 with Alastor and Charlie’s older sister!reader I am frothing at the mouth-

Congratulations on 2k!!!!! Don’t mind me being feral over here lol

Prompt 4, #40: Alastor x Morningstar!reader (Charlie’s big sister) ‘This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.’

Your back collided with the soft cushion of the couch as your hands clutched and pulled at the stiff clothing. A soft gasp escaped your throat as sharp teeth nipped at your skin.

”Alastor” you whine as his lips press against yours as his claws ripped at your shirt.

A faint growl rumbled in his chest as he made work of your pants.

”we…oh…we shouldn’t…” you whispered as you sucked his tongue into your mouth.

 He pulled away to look at you.

Hell you were beautiful. Your hair was sprayed about the couch and your cheeks were flushed. Your eyes were lidded as you watch Alastor skim down your body, tugging at your pants.

Your body buzzed with static and desire as you watched the deer kiss your inner thighs.

”this is wrong” you gasped as he nosed your. Clothed cunt, a faint rumble vibrations your legs as he growled.

He smirked at the stickiness coating your panties and clipped them, exposing you to him.

His tongue licked a stripe up your slit, causing your back to arch.

His lips wrapped around your lit and sucked.

A soft cry left your lips as he lapped at you.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be feeling like this.

But for weeks, there had been tension between you and the radio demon.

You were Charlie’s older sister. You had been keeping a close watch on Alastor since he invited himself to the hotel.

You didn’t trust him. 

He was dangerous, a flight risk, unpredictable.

But he had proved to be a great help.

Charlie had left the business aspect to the two of you, which forced the two of you to be around each other often.

You had steadily began to feel affections for the demon.

But he irked you greatly.

The two of you played a game of cat and mouse.

Your lips parted in a whine as he squeezed your thighs as he ate you like a delicious meal.

”A-Ah oh!” Alastor hummed against you as you grinded against his face.

”ya gonna cum for me Ma biche?” He purred as you writhed above him. Your toes curled as pleasure swirled in the pit of your belly. 

A low whine escaped your throat as your cunt fluttered and your body tensed as you cummed on his tongue.

Alastor groaned as he slurped your essence. Your hips shuddered as he licked at your clit before pressing a slow kiss to the pearl.

He climbed up your body and pulled your face towards his in for a slow kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

The sound of his belt buckle tickled your ears and you felt a smirk curl on his lips

”Still think this is wrong?”