#This ask is glorious and perfectly structured.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Important question looking for a genuine answer Your convo about akutagawa being stupid is so true but he's also stupidly fucking pretty in the Manga does this mean I can call him a bimbo and be correct

Oh my God

[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 3.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: you wish marcus a happy thirty-sixth birthday. the sequel to two lonely people.

warnings: social isolation, self doubt, anxiety, themes of alienation, light angst, fluff, marcus has the cutest stretch marks and freckles, reader is described as same height and/or shorter than marcus, smut - mentions of intercrural sex, cum eating, grinding, handjob, sex toys, praise kink, exhibitionism, nipple play, vibrator play, cuddling(!!!).

notes: wrote this sporadically throughout my weekend away, shout-out to sima for letting me blab on and on about pedro boy porn. truly in my marcus era, i am a man possessed. these sex toys [x] [x] are also real! in case you were curious.

Bender stretches out on the couch beside you, his long and lanky body bowing low. His hairy belly brushes against the fabric of the cushion when you scratch beneath his chin. The mission of an early afternoon nap has been well accomplished. You push yourself into a sitting position, letting Bender jump to the carpet and stroll away. The grey-white of the cushions contrasts the red of the walls perfectly; in another life, Marcus must have been an interior designer.

You watch your cat—yes, yours—settle atop the orange loveseat across from you, dotted with crimson and tangerine throw pillows. Everything inside Marcus’ place is so rich and vibrant, a constant splash of colour no matter where you look. It makes you feel good to be here, like you belong. Every night spent across the street from your own home feels like a glorious field trip.

You've been coming around for four months, and Marcus has never turned you away. He's your boyfriend now, a label and structure that hasn't existed in your life for what felt like aeons. You've had to modify your habits a little bit—boyfriends get worried when you don't text or show for four days. They show up at your front door ready to call someone—a hospital or an ambulance, or your mother, god forbid.

It has been more difficult to adjust than you thought it would be. As it turns out, once you live a life of solitude, incorporating people back into it is a little like pulling teeth. It’s not that you don't like it, crave that contact. You simply don't think of it. You don't take into consideration whether or not Marcus is missing you because that feels like a little too much. Too much thought from another thrown your way, too much care about you as a person.

You're finding that Marcus almost strictly operates in the realm of too much. Too much time, too much attention dedicated to you. It's a seed of guilt that you've swallowed. The feeling has rooted itself in your chest, stringy vines encircling your lungs. Surely he has something better to do: work, maybe, or visit family and friends. But he seems to want to spend almost every night with you.

You watch movies, chat dinner plans, fuck—though it doesn't really feel like fucking. Marcus brings sweetness to your tender care, delivering praise to each of your soft touches. You love learning his body. The glow in his eyes when he makes you feel good could light the night sky, you're sure of it.

Time with him injects a new type of levity into your life that animals can't bring. Even with Bender as your own now, after Anne-Marie admitted to you his care was too much for her to handle, Marcus brings a presence to your life that makes you feel a little more assured. It's cliché, but it's true.

Tonight, you're waiting for him to come home from a late shift at work. No pet clients this week, you’ve been making yourself comfortable at Pike’s place for the past few days—since that fateful evening he knocked on your door, presuming you dead or worse.

Earlier, you texted him asking when he'd be home and almost dropped your phone. Home. Marcus hadn’t seemed to notice, but the message stopped you short. Maybe you’re a little too comfortable.

Later than I’d like, he’d replied.

His guesstimate was closer to bedtime than dinner. You told him not to worry; you’d still be here waiting. It's his birthday, after all. You are determined to celebrate, even if it's after a long day of catching criminals.

You’ve got a whole thing prepared. A silver birthday banner hanging above the kitchen entryway, his gift on the coffee table. And dinner, of course: chupe and warm bread for dipping, along with sopapillas and ice cream cake for dessert. You've never put so much effort into something like this for another person—never gotten the chance to.

Picking his gift was probably the hardest part of the process. You'd bugged Marcus over and over about an online wishlist. Anything that he needed for his place, any wants. His answer was always the same, eliciting an eye roll every time: you.

“You can't gift a person,” is always your counter, to which the man wholeheartedly disagrees. He has everything he wants; a feeling you cannot understand. Everything he wants and all he seems to want is you.

When Marcus makes it through his front door, the sky is dark. You’re asleep again, body laid across the couch as Bender sits in a comfy loaf across your ribs and diaphragm. His purring moves through your chest, keeping you warm without a blanket. The peaceful scene is disrupted when Marcus drops his bag to the floor a little too loud, waking you. It’s less of a slow, sleepy roll and more of a sharp gasp. The intake scares the cat, Bender leaping from you. He lands on the floor easily.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

“It’s me!” he smiles, his tone one of mock celebration.

“I fell asleep.” An astute observation on your part, you rub the sleep from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Marcus approaches the couch, holding a hand out to help you stand. You take it, pulling yourself up with his weight as an anchor. He manages to get you into the hold of his arms before you realize, giving you a warm hug. He’s a little sweaty today, salt mixing in with natural sweetness at the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t be sorry,” Marcus says.

You start to move, readjusting the huddle of two so he’s at least facing the strung up banner. “Happy birthday,” you whisper. “I made dinner.”

He hums against your cheek. “All this for little ol’ me?”

“Yes,” you say. “And dessert. And a gift.” You nod at the coffee table, like he can even see you with his chin over your shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Marcus says.

“I already did. And I wanted to, so it’s done. Come on.” You squeeze your arms around him. “Let’s eat.”

You sit him down at the table, not letting Marcus lift a finger as you bring out two bowls. The shrimp stew has been on the stove, simmering at a low temperature since you finished cooking. You bring the pot out of the kitchen and set it on a cork trivet. When he looks past the lip of the pot, Marcus’ face splits into a disbelieving smile.

“I could kiss you right now,” he says, ass hovering from his chair.

“Sit. You can kiss me later.” You ladle chupe into Marcus’ bowl, then your own. “Shit, spoons. Just a second.” Getting up again, Marcus catches your wrist as you pass the side of the table.

“Honey,” he says.

“I’ll just be a second.”

“You’re doing too much.”

“I’m not,” you insist. “I—can I…”

Your eyes tell it better than your words can, staring down at him. Please let me do this for you. Marcus lets you go, and you return a minute later with a pair of spoons.

You sit down at the table. Marcus simply stares at you. You start to smile before twisting your lips, looking down at your bowl.

“What?” you ask. When he doesn’t say anything, you repeat yourself.

“Nothing.” Marcus shakes his head.

“There’s something.”

“You. You’re just…incredible.”

You shrug. “I wanted to do something a little bit special. I know it’s not a super big deal—”

“The woman who has a freezer stocked with heat-and-eat lasagna made me chupe.”

“Sopapillas, too. They’re in the microwave.”

“And sopapillas. This is such a big deal,” Marcus says.

You hate to admit it, but your heart swells. This is such a big deal. God, you really do lo—

Marcus watches you expectantly, like he's just asked a question. You have no idea what he said. Instead you smile and nod. Then you dip your spoon into the food.

Watching him eat is the best part. Every bite is a reaction, seeing the flavours splash over his tongue turning into something of a spectator sport. Marcus takes seconds but declines a third helping, obediently letting you clean up from dinner and bring out the aforementioned fried dough pouches.

In central Chile, they make sopapillas with pumpkin—in the north, that's not so much the case. Marcus has told you where his family is from, Arica, right near the border with Peru. Part of your disappearing act last week had to do with the last round of research and planning for tonight. By the time you’d nailed the recipe, you’d gotten caught up in looking at maps and learning the country’s history.

“I know it's not one hundred percent,” you say, referring to the food. “Not too sure if I cooked the sauce long enough.”

The cinnamon syrup was the difficult part of the cooking operation. Unsure if Marcus would like a thicker or thinner consistency, you spooned in corn syrup ‘til the liquid took on a half-runny, half-gloopy viscosity.

Marcus speaks with his mouth still full. “It's fucking delicious.” He cuts himself off at three, promising to finish the rest for breakfast.

You scoot away to the kitchen for the final time tonight, taking the ice cream cake out of the fridge. Admittedly, you got a little carried away with it. Ninety dollars on a cake sounds like highway robbery, but it's worth it for the look on his face.

As you set the cake down on the table before him, Marcus looks at a perfectly printed image of his own dopey grin. Jutting out from his mouth is a speech bubble made of icing and carefully placed fondant. He's wishing himself a happy birthday.

You stand by his shoulder, watching his expression. He seems to be stuck halfway between amazement and amusement; just what you wanted. When he joins you on his feet, it's to kiss you—long, deep, and slow. You lean into it, into him, his soft strength supporting you as Marcus caresses your upper arm. Then he grabs your elbow, gently placing each forearm at his sides to cage him in. You hear Bender more than see him, feeling him rub his head against your shin.

“This is the best birthday ever,” Marcus says.

“Including or ignoring that you’re four years out from fourty?” you ask.

His nose brushes against yours. “Don't be a smartass,” he breathes, voice all play.

You both only take a small slice of the cake, bellies full of your homemade dinner. You won't be telling Marcus about the trial batches of shrimp stew that were ultimately fed to the dogs in your care, woefully forgotten as you added another bag of the fresh shellfish to your grocery order.

When you're finished, you start to clear the table. Marcus insists on helping at this part, leaving no room for discussion when he plucks the stack of bowls and spoons from your hands. You wrap the cake and put it back in the fridge, along with the chupe and sopapillas, both in airtight containers. Marcus washes as you dry, navigating his kitchen like an expert when you go to put things away. Well, not like an expert—you are one. After today, you can run this room blindfolded.

When all is said and done, Marcus leans you against the kitchen counter. He plants a kiss to your cheek, slowly heading southbound to your jaw, then your neck.

You giggle as he reaches the soft skin of your throat. “Still got your present waiting for you.”

“You're right here,” he says.

“Hardy har,” you intone. Pushing at his shoulders, Marcus lets up. “On the coffee table.”

He takes the lead back to the living room, sitting on his couch to eye the sleek black box that awaits him. You can't sit, running a thumb over your lips as Marcus takes the gift in his hands. He shakes it, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You're killing me here, Pike.”

“I'm appreciating the fine cardboard craftsmanship,” he says of the box. As much artisanal handiwork as the dollar store gift aisle can grant you, anyway.

Finally, Marcus lifts the lid from the box. On a soft pillow of red and white tissue paper lies the three things you got him, as well as a small card. You watch him take one of the gifts from the box, squeezing it. Nerves claw at your stomach. He takes his time to analyze it, flip it over and flip it again in his hand.

“This is cool,” he says, almost absentmindedly. Then to you, “These stress toys?”

That anxious cord inside snaps, taking you down with it. You're in free fall as your skin goes warm with embarrassment, your palms the only thing shielding you from the world.

“No,” you sigh softly.

It's a shitty gift. That much is clear when he can't even tell what it is. You should have stuck with something simple, like a bookstore gift card. But no, you had to go out on a whim.

Marcus asks if you're okay, words laced with tender concern. You take three seconds to recompose yourself and prepare for what comes next. Pulling a mask together, your hands come away from your face.

“They're, um—well. They're sex toys. Grinding toys made of silicone to…” You clear your throat. “Those are soft... The other one is sort of a vibrator.” Marcus follows your words, looking down at the small green device. “It was a bad gift idea. I thought you would like ‘em.”

If you click your heels three times, will the universe grant you mercy and travel you home? Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, you swallow the knot in your throat. Opening them again, your boyfriend is still here. No dice.

He stands, bringing the box with him. You take a seat on the loveseat, letting him join you. As much as you want to curl inwards and die, for a lack of better words, Marcus will want to talk about it. Understand.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” you return. Looking at him makes it hard to retreat into yourself.

“It's a great gift.”

“You don't have to say that.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “This is good.”

Watching his thick fingers rub over the meat of the toy should not turn you on as much as it does, a low simmer between your legs. The soft ridges of the floppy one in his hand look a little Georgia O’Keefe; the lines of an abstract vulva. You stop yourself from picturing that hand by your thighs, cupping you where you want Marcus the most.

“I figured because you like to grind on me, this might add something more to it. Just for fun,” you shrug.

Like to is an understatement. If observing Marcus Pike is a competitive display, when it comes to grinding, you're going pro. In bed, he rubs his cock against you—your thighs, your ass, your chest—and against the sheets. He's very into intercrural, first showing you a video of the act on the night of your two month anniversary before putting yourselves to the test.

His favourite, though, is to rub against the top of your thigh as you make out and watch him. He likes the attention, and you love giving it to him. When Marcus finishes, he lets you feed him his cum with the pads of your fingers.

He kisses you softly now, hand at your cheek as he rubs the skin close to your ear.

“It's a great fuckin’ gift,” Marcus assures you. “Just needed the clue in.”

“You don't have to reassure me,” you say, shaking your head. You hate when this happens. Tonight is about him, and suddenly it's your emotions taking centre stage. Sometimes it feels like you take up all the air in the room.

“I want to,” Marcus says.

He wants to. You could melt.

“Did you want to try them?” you ask. “The toys?”

“Please.” He nods in the direction of the stairs, prompting you to lead the way.

You take Marcus by the hand, leading the way as he follows you up to his bedroom. In the months of being together, the rush to the bed has dissipated. Neither of you are any less eager, but you know now that Marcus isn't going anywhere. There is a sense of security here that you haven't ever felt before.

When you cross the threshold of the room, you take your time with undressing him. It's an unwrapping of sorts. The buttons of his shirt come away easily, sliding off Marcus’ shoulders to the floor. Next is his belt, clinking lightly as you reach down and pull the leather strap from his waist. He takes his pants and boxers off for you, leaving the man in the nude.

You leave yourself a moment to simply look. Taking him in with your eyes, you smile. Who has blessed you with such a beautiful, understanding man and how can you ever repay them? The heat of his body pressed against the skin bared by your rolled up sleeves makes you shiver. You want forever to hold him. Have him be yours.

Cool fingers run across Marcus’ bare hip. You trace the marks of thinned skin near his waist. He watches you carefully, breath held. You blow air against his lips before kissing him hungrily. Like this, you can taste him: vanilla ice cream and butterscotch.

Pulling him to the bed, you let him get comfortable. Marcus has left the box of toys on the nightstand. You leave them for now, straddling his thighs before you take his dick in your hand. He’s all warm and smooth against your palm, the ridge of a vein pressing against your thumb.

Marcus sucks in a small gasp as you start to move your hand. He gently takes hold of the base of your skull, resting your forehead to his. He looks at you, unblinking. The two of you are caught in a bit of a staring contest; you never want to pull your eyes away from his beautiful face. Those full lips pout for you, forming something like your name in precious whispers.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” you say. “I love you.” Marcus’ eyes roll to the back of his skull, his hips tilting further up into your touch.

This man is the sun to your stars. You don’t quite orbit each other, but he makes you feel that much brighter. You two are cut from the same cloth; scorching infernos no one ever truly gets to see, not quite within the grasp of others. But here, it’s different. A focused fire meets an exploding astral scatter.

“You’re always so good to me, Marcus,” you whisper. “I’m so lucky.”

“Fuck, you’re so—god.” He doesn’t get much more coherent.

You reach for the toys with your free hand, distracting him with gentle kisses across the constellations that dot his chest. A thousand tiny sun spots beneath the plush of your lips. You could stay here forever, feeling his skin against you.

First, you start with the soft silicone toy without the vibe. You squeeze it in your hand to warm it up, then bring it close to Marcus.

“Can I touch you with this?”

“Please,” he nods.

You take it into the hand already in contact with his cock, sliding the toy against him slowly. Marcus groans, tipping his head back. His eyes close briefly before flying back open.

Immediately, you stop what you are doing. “You alright?”

“You’re still fully dressed.” He speaks as if he’s just realized the situation at hand.

You simply nod. “Yeah.”

“Would you wanna…” Marcus glances down at his naked body.

“Tonight is about you,” you say.

“Well, I want you to. If you want to.”

You’ve been ignoring the tacky feeling in your underwear, letting the seam of your pants do the work for you as you watch Marcus.

“Okay.”

You let Marcus undress you, pressing pause on sex. His hands rove over you as he peels the shirt from your skin, making quick work of everything below the waist. He settles your cunt over his cock, gliding you forward and back with his hands. You take in a breath, reveling in the slide against your clit. When Marcus lifts his hips just so, you moan. You use his shoulders as a hold, balancing to stay upright.

Taking the silicone toy, you place it between his pelvis and the length of his dick. Then you hover over the underside of him once again. When you sit down, pussy slick against his length, Marcus huffs out a desperate groan. You grind against him, giving him friction at either side.

“Feels so fucking good,” Marcus says. “I…you’re so fucking warm. Wet.”

“Yeah? That’s what you do to me. So sweet, such a good man,” you say. His hands come to rest at your hips again. “Wanna flip me over?”

Marcus nods, readjusting so that he’s overtop of you now. He slots the toy between the crux of skin at your thigh, grinding against it as he presses light touches to your clit. Focused on his pleasure, he keeps his eyes closed as he ruts into you. Marcus kisses you as he cums, stickiness painting your skin.

He travels down your body with his mouth, trailing lips and tongue across your collarbone. Marcus licks at your left nipple before he latches onto it. Your spine pulls taut as you cup his head to your breast, petting his hair in encouragement. When he leaves your chest, he moves straight to the cum against your skin. As you watch him lick it off the front of your hip, you’re sure that you have died and gone to heaven.

Marcus laves his tongue over the skin between your belly and pelvis, watching for your reaction. He leaves your body for only a moment. When he comes into focus again, he’s holding the green vibrating toy in his hand.

Turning it on, he asks, “Is this okay?” as he presses it to your pubic bone.

You nod, an mhm coming out more like a slight whine.

He moves it lower and lower, tracing the tip of the pear-shaped device around your wetness.

“Where do you want it?” The question is playfully facetious; he knows exactly where you want it.

“Marcus, please,” you sigh.

He hums, nose inches above your soft and swollen cunt. “You know I’ll always give you what you want.”

Marcus presses the toy against you, the round and squishy body subtly buzzing against your cunt as the tip delivers a direct point of pressure to your clit. He shifts it every few moments, the readjustments pushing you further and faster towards the edge. It’s the kiss that does it for you, tender as he cradles the side of your face with his large hand. The caress of his ring finger against your cheek cuts the cord, your orgasm rocking your body like volts of electricity.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” he murmurs. Marcus turns the toy off, releasing you from the overwhelming waves of pleasure. Cradling your back to his front, he kisses the crown of your head.

“I love you too, y’know,” Marcus says.

“Hm?” You shift in his arms, looking at him now. “What did you say?”

The way you bat your eyes at him tells Marcus that you heard him perfectly fine. He shakes his head with a light chuckle. “I said—”

“I love you.” You steal the words from him the same way he’s taken your heart.

Marcus Pike is many things: your neighbour, your boyfriend. A lover and a thief. He’s offered up his guts to you so easily, your prize for taking a chance. This man is a gift. A teacher. You're re-learning what it's like to have someone be there. To live and feel the art of giving.

[pixydustworld]

At Ginny Weasley's 25th birthday party, Hermione found out 2 things:

1. Ron was dating Theo, which was an uneventful reveal ("No gasps?" Theo complained, "I almost got the mark! I'm dangerous!").

2. Pansy had invited Draco Malfoy.

And he had shown up.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Ginny sighed, sounding like she was about to cry, an empty glass clutched in her tiny fingers, “I love you.”

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, arms wrapped around Ginny’s middle, lipstick smeared beyond repair. “We waited to cut the cake for you!”

Behind the two of them, the cake sat pristine — untouched, 25 lit candles balancing precariously around the edge. A definite fire hazard, Hermione decided.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hermione said, digging Ginny’s present out of her bag (new wand holster!) “Collins kept me in his office after a meeting.”

“Did he try to kiss you again?” Ginny said loudly, “Do you want Pansy and I to ruin his life?”

“We can fuck his dad.” Pansy agreed. “Become his stepmother. Ground him.”

“He’s 45.” Hermione said flatly, “And I’m fairly confident his father is dead.”

“Well,” Ginny pouted, attention quickly drifting to her fiancée, trailing tiny little kitten licks up Pansy’s neck, “If you don’t let us do something, someone else will do much worse.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Hermione argued, ignoring that last bit, “I can actually be quite scary.”

Pansy smiled, but it seemed a bit forced. “You’re very small.”

“Like a chihuahua.” Theo said, snuggled up to Ron’s side, voice slightly muffled.

“But a feral one.” Ron said helpfully, like that made everything better. “One that bites ankles.”

“Let’s cut the cake, shall we?” Hermione said. Out of the corner of her eye she could see several candles oozing off the top, a definite flaw in the structural integrity of the cake. “You all have waited long enough!”

The evening went on, in glorious delight. Hermione was almost able to ignore the way Malfoy was watching her, until he cornered her in the kitchen.

Alone, with only a stack of dirty dishes to witness their conversation.

“Hello!” She said, voice a bit too cheery for the dark look on his face, “Can you believe Luna is dating George Weasley? Quite the plot twist, if you ask me — ”

“You didn’t tell me Collins tried to kiss you.”

“I didn’t.” Hermione agreed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “Capable in all avenues of your life? Don’t need me to fuck you anymore?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That is not what I said.”

“Am I allowed to kill him?”

Before, she would’ve laughed, watched as his eyes glittered until they melted, until he laughed, too. But now, after fucking him for six and half months, Hermione knew the unfortunate truth: Malfoy was not joking. He never had been.

He was overly dramatic (the buckbeak incident from third year still was occasionally mentioned) but also quite sincere about his threats. A terrible combination, Hermione found.

Hermione shook her head solemnly. “No.” She said, “You are not.”

“Figured I should ask permission. You can punish me later.”

She caught his wrist. “Draco.” Hermione said softly, “Don’t be dramatic.”

He feigned a gasp. “I’m not doing anything.” Which was currently true. All he was doing was looking down at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’m just annoyed that my girlf—” he hesitated, and Hermione glanced away. So casually cruel, dangling that word out in front of her when he didn’t actually mean it.

“My person,” he continued “didn’t tell me that Collins from work, who is quite possibly the worst individual I’ve ever met, has tried, on what seems to be multiple occasions, to kiss her.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can do that myself.” Hermione hissed. “Once, I punched Harry. He got a bloody nose!”

(She did not mention that said punch had been an accident, and she had cried about giving Harry a bloody nose for roughly 15 minutes after it happened. Harry had to console her, it had been, for a lack of better words: a mess.)

“I know you can,” Malfoy nodded, his smile, as always, a little mean, “But taking care of you is one of my favorite things to do. Those duties extend to light amounts of assault.”

“No need,” Hermione said primly, “I jinxed his balls to his left kneecap.”

Malfoy winced. “Effective,” he said, “my murderous little chihuahua.”

The air seemed to grow thicker, the muted silence stretching between them. Like clockwork, Hermione felt her eyes darting to his mouth, felt her skin prickling with a familiar heat. It felt, almost, as if she was someone else whenever he was around — a different version of herself, desperate for only his attention, longing for his approval.

Malfoy’s eyes were soft as he looked down at her, hands on either side of her, skin warm to the touch. Hermione wondered how he managed to keep all his softness sacred to only her.

Their first time had been a blur of sharp teeth and bruised flesh. He’d fucked her on the floor of her office, skirts rucked around her waist, whispered filthy words in her ear. In return, she had bit his neck until blood trickled down his flesh, smeared across her lips, the taste of copper mixing with the salt of their sweat.

After, when he’d tucked himself around her frame, holding her whole body, Hermione realized she liked this, too.

To sink into his embrace, to allow him to hold the weight of her bones. It had been bliss unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a freedom of thought; the world had been soft and quiet, his body a barrier between her and the noise.

The second and third time had happened in the same way: a challenge, someone to meet it — a broom closet, her groans blocked by his thumb heavy on her tongue, his face twisted in pleasure as he sunk inside her, inch by inch; a stolen moment in the bathroom of a crowded pub, his fingers tight in her hair, her hands pressed against the cool tile as he had pounded her from the back, grinning at her friends moments later, his cum dripping down her thighs.

But after that, they slipped into something more. His softness grew beyond the moments after they’d fucked, uncontained; she saw it in his eyes when she spoke, felt it when he guided her along the street, hand warm on her lower back.

And here they were, six and a half months later, the same feelings fresh, evergreen. It always felt a bit like the first time with him, limbs trembling, skin flushed; mind blissfully empty.

Malfoy touched her face, bringing her back to the kitchen, to the present, to the soft sounds of the party in the room next door. Back to him, and his inescapable warmth. He tilted his head to the side. Waiting.

Hermione nodded.

“Stick out your tongue.” He said, voice soft.

Heart hammering, Hermione did just that. Watched, in frozen anticipation, as Malfoy leaned over her frame, his front pressed tightly to her own, and spit into her mouth.

Wet and sloppy, dribbling off the edge of her tongue.

His fingers slipped under her skirt, flipping it over her stomach, tugging her knickers down her thighs, eyes hard on her trembling tongue. “Good,” he whispered when he found her wet, dripping down her thighs. “Spit.”

Hermione's eyes fluttered as she lowered her tongue. His saliva — her own, now — dripping down to land on her exposed cunt, joining the mess he created.

At the same time as he slipped his fingers between her legs, he pressed his other fingers into her mouth, muffling her whimpers.

“Keep you stuffed on both ends,” he whispered, thumb pressing down on her tongue, three fingers sunk into her cunt, “Nice and full.”

A muffled sound came from behind the cracked door. “I’ll get more fire whiskey!” Theo’s drunken voice cut through the murkiness of Hermione’s mind. slicing through the kitchen with the effectiveness of only the best cooking knives, “There’s got to me more inside the cabinet!”

Malfoy was hunched over her, his entire body curved around her back, fingers stilling inside her cunt. She felt his muscles tense, preparing to pull his fingers out, but her own tightened around his wrist, keeping him trapped. Within her, above her, inside her.

The door knob twitched, but then, Ron’s voice — “No, baby, I found another one. Under Harry’s head, he’s using it as a pillow, but I think we can take it —”

She hurried to release him, to set him free, to appear unaffected and pretend like she hadn’t clutched his arm tighter at the thought of someone catching them but it was already too late.

“Shy, all the sudden?” He whispered, teeth grazing her flesh, thumb finding her clit, pressing through the wetness.

“Do you want me to fuck you in front of all of our friends? Would that make you happy?” Hermione had a terrible feeling he would do it, too. Split her open for all to see — and that she’d let him.

“At least,” She gasped around his fingers, tongue thick, spit dripping down her neck, “then they’d know about us.”

He froze above her.

“What?” He took his fingers out of her mouth, and her traitorous tongue followed the line of spit.

“I said,” Hermione repeated in a voice that could be interpreted as petulant, “at least, everyone would know about us.”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us.”

Hermione scoffed. “No,” she said, “You are the one who doesn't want any of our friends to know — ”

“Come on, angel.” Malfoy said, eyes serious. “Think for me. Use that beautiful brain. When have I ever said that I didn’t want people to know about us? If you allowed me, I would tell the entire world that you let me fuck you. That you let me worship at your altar, take care of your every need. It would be the only thing I spoke about.”

“No,” Hermione whined, thoughts thick and heavy in her brain, she could still feel his unmoving fingers inside of her, “That. That’s not true, you said let’s just keep it between us.”

“As in, let's keep sex between us.” He squinted down at her in the yellow light of the kitchen. “Are you fucking other people? I’d like a list.”

“There isn’t a list.”

“I wasn’t clear before,” Malfoy was saying with great effort, “That is my fault, but please, allow me to be clear now. I’d like to be the only person you have sex with. If you’d have me.”

“When would I even have time to have sex with other people?”

He frowned. “I just said something very romantic.”

Hermione waved her hand, “Yes, very romantic, but — you sleep in my bed. With me. Every night. When do you think I’m hypothetically finding the time to fuck other people?”

A horrible thought occurred, “Have you been sleeping with other people?”

Malfoy recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “I think about fucking you all the time. Always you.” He said, looking a bit mad. “If you’re not beside me, I wait, like a dog at the door for your return. I am at your disposal. I am yours to use, to keep, to toss away — there is nothing, nothing I’d refuse, if only you asked.”

Heart in her throat, Hermione asked: “You want more?”

“I want everything.”

Hermione nodded. “You can have it.” She said, the grin on her face too bright for the dim kitchen, “I want all that you are, too.”

Malfoy let out a shaky exhale. “Later, we’ll tell everyone. I’ll become a nuisance to casual conversation, with the amount I’ll mention you. But, I’m going to fuck you now, alright? Will that be a problem?”

Hermione shook her head, stomach squirming. With more than just arousal, she realized.

Excitement was brewing — he wanted her, just as much as she did. Wanted the sleepy evenings and lazy mornings. Wanted to sit beside her at the pub, hand on her thigh for all to see; wanted to be her date to exhausting ministry galas, wanted to be seen. Wanted everyone to know.

“No,” she gasped as he pressed in to her, “That won’t be a problem.”

[barbararomance]

only wish, thor odinson!

synopsis! stargazing on asgard beside the god of thunder, to catch a glimpse of a shooting star. you ask what was his wish; hearing what he wishes... it was quite pleasant to your ears.

read me! likes, feedbacks, and especially reblogs are highly appreciated; come talk to me if you wanna repost my writings on other sites please. this could be pre-thor yknow? before jane and all idrk, truly up to your vast imagination;) - i, lady barbara hope you delight in this story.. my dearest reader <33 // leave a request here!

word count! 0.7k

it was a starry night. you found yourself needing not to fall in to a deep slumber rather; gazing upon the infinite number of sparkling tiny suns that were perfectly scattered above as if it were all there for a purpose. few shone brighter than some yet they're all providing glint to the glorious darkness that is the universe. you held on to one large structure holding up the royal palace so you keep yourself from feeling as though you're reaching up to those heavenly orbs only to fall off to hell until you need to hold on to one of these superstructures not since you were graced by someone's company. "prince thor! you are awake at this hour.." you say in a low tone as to not wake up those resting. "i could say the same to you, y/n.." he spoke lowly aswell, "what are we doing up?" he politely asks while he takes the space beside you; simultaneously also taking in your dazzling features underneath the blue and dark purple tones of the night with the lighting of the bright stars bringing out the usually dim irises of yours. "well.. i could not find myself to sleep, and i seem to be fascinated by the stars - care to join me, my prince?"

you internally rejoice making the blonde chuckle, "asking me out are you, y/ln?" he tilted his head, with that all-knowing smirk growing on his face. you shook your head in disbelief with a happy smile on your far, the night seemed warmer next to the god and you were not complaining. you knew these little talks weren't gonna last but it was nice to be with him even just for now, he was gonna be king soon! and you were glad for him, perhaps he could get quite aggressive but that merely means he's war-prepared. he was born to be a great ruler and you were honored to be one of the four warriors he put trust in. these thoughts suddenly disappeared for a moment as a shooting star caught your attention. "thor, look over there! a shooting star, best make a wish!" he immediately looks at the direction you are pointing, closes his eyes and hums whilst he wishes for something.

"what'd you wish for, my prince?" you asked quite eagerly, "he opened his eyes to look at you, admirably. "not to jinx my only wish, y/ln. but i wished that you would honor me of allowing me to court you." he confesses, reaching for your hand and placing a kiss upon it; looking longingly at you with his own two blue stars for eyes looking right into yours. "now you are asking me out.." you teased biting your lips, flattered at his request. he smiled keeping his eyes on you awaiting your response, you simply cupped his cheek and kissed him. his lips on yours caused your heart to supernova, you felt like you were floating in space and free. you opened your eyes to meet his and giggled, "prince-" you were cut off by his fingers on your lips shushing you, "need not calling me prince thor, y/n. just thor is fine" he assures you and continues to let you speak by brushing his fingers away from your lips, you enjoyed the seconds they were placed there. "uhm.. thor, i would be honored to be courted by you.. but i must refuse.. you are to be king, and i only want what is best for you.. which is not me." you say responsibly while also removing his hands from yours. "what? y/n no.. you're really good for me- no! you're great! for me..? i.." he stuttered possibly taken aback by your rejection. "i am sorry, thor.."

"no.. you need not apologize.. however, can i hold you once more, y/ln?" he bargained. you embraced the god, obliging. most wishes don't come true unfortunately, but that is fine - for there are magnificent things forged by the universe in store for you, you mean well what you did for thor and you can't wait for his coronation. the both of you parted ways that night and fell in a doze very different from one another. though it was very pleasant hearing thor be so gentle with his words.. making you think.. what was your only wish that night? it was that maybe in a different world, the two of you would have been.

[secretsolarsystem]

Edritch!Anakin decides that Obi will always be his and Obi’s mortality or human-ness is standing in the way of his plans

two requests for this!!!! :O I must admit that I don't know anything about eldritch lore so I based it off the eldritch horrors from the chilling adventures of sabrina AKSHLFDSKLJF I'M SORRY

I hope y'all still enjoy this 2.3k canon-divergent, jedi!Obi-Wan, eldritch!Vaderkin, possessive Vaderkin <3

–

To be condemned to a life of immortality may be miserable or glorious to some, but Vader felt neither way about it. It was the only way he’d ever known – to live a life that was not a life, because life was something precious and sacred. What Vader was, was neither of these things. He was made to be an outcast, made to long and crave and while he did not fear rejection, he did not tolerate it.

Vader knew how he appeared to mortals. His yellow eyes boring into them in a way most unsettling, his scar filling them with a morbid curiosity they could not shake but didn’t dare to appease. He knew that the stilted way in which he spoke threw people off, made them weary and tumble over their own words. But still, he tried to give them some solace, in the aspects of his appearance he could control. He always made himself beautiful, which as of late entailed long limbs and tan skin and a perfectly structured face framed by long curls. It was, however, all to no avail, not thus far. It didn’t matter to humans how pink he made his lips when they stretched to reveal impossibly sharp teeth.

He was the Uninvited, always seeking a seat at the table that would never be offered to him. He didn’t lose sleep over it (if he actually ever slept, that is); his rejection was avenged as he killed those who denied him. If they would not welcome him, then they would die. It was the only way Vader had ever known.

This longing he felt was intrinsic, an unavoidable and unalterable part of his being the Uninvited. He would always wish to be where he was not wanted, with just a sliver of hope that one person would widen their door or pull out a chair or even open their arms.

He’d been welcomed, once, when he presented himself as a young boy looking for home and for love. The woman, though she’d been a slave with nothing, did not turn him away. The woman – Shmi, her name was Shmi – had become his mother, always taking him into her arms and feeding him before herself and protecting him from danger and singing desert songs into his hair.

She had no idea what Vader was, for he went by Anakin, her Ani, and his eyes were not stained yellow yet. He had bright blue ones, which Shmi swore made him a gift bestowed upon her, for they reminded her of cool oases. Tatooine is unrelenting, she once said, holding his cheeks in her hands, but the relief of water is in your eyes. This planet is cruel, but you are its kindness. It was her death, actually, that gave him his gold eyes, forever tainted by the grief of losing his mother and the rage he’d felt as he slaughtered her murderers.

They hadn’t rejected him, because he did not ask to be welcomed. That was the first and only time Vader had killed for a reason other than being turned away, and it changed him forever.

He did not feed on the souls of those he killed, either. Vader killed for the sole reason of not being welcomed. He did not need to eat, only to appease the unrelenting ache to be welcomed and wanted.

Never had Vader felt that ache so entirely focused on one singular person as he did now, for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader had little regard for mortals’ beauty outside of fashioning himself to their liking, but Obi-Wan was undeniably beautiful. His hair shone a shade of copper Vader hadn’t seen in his thousands of millennia of existence, and he had gray-blue eyes that reminded Vader not of oases, but entire and vast oceans.

And Obi-Wan was simply kind. His smile was kind, especially when it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. His laugh was always kind, done with the person and never at them. His touches were kind, happy to give a friend a warm hand on the shoulder or a gentle hug. Vader could tell he was adored by his friends and the young Togruta that followed him around, who Vader supposed was his apprentice of sorts.

Vader could not take it anymore, could not bear to deny himself the privilege of drowning in the pure light that emanated from the man. He wanted to bask in it, he wanted to consume it whole. He wanted to consume Obi-Wan whole, but the man needed to pass Vader’s test, first.

So one night when Obi-Wan was alone – his little apprentice had been promoted, as Vader had learned was customary of their order, and Obi-Wan now lived alone – Vader appeared in his home. Sometimes Vader would ask for entry into homes and kill their owners once he was denied, but he was too impatient now. Plus, he wanted to give Obi-Wan a head-start of sorts.

He watched, silently, as Obi-Wan prepared himself a dinner. Vader had once heard Obi-Wan self-deprecatingly joke that he was no cook, and his lack of confidence in his cooking was evident in how simple his meal was tonight. If Obi-Wan would let Vader in, Vader would ensure that the man would feast every night, like he deserved.

As Obi-Wan finished plating his meal, Vader watched as the man’s hand froze for just a moment, his back momentarily tensing before he took a steadying breath that allowed him to relax his shoulders and continue his movements. It was an imperceptible thing, the way Obi-Wan had a trill of fear he consciously subdued, but nothing about Obi-Wan Kenobi would escape Vader’s eye.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan spoke, intentionally level as he turned slowly to face Vader. The plate was held in his hand, not a single tremor in his fingers.

“Good evening,” Vader greeted in return, his voice monotone and unnaturally stiff as always.

Vader watched as Obi-Wan took in his appearance, his eyes flitting over his golden eyes and prominent scar. What sent a pleased thrill through Vader, though, was where Obi-Wan’s eyes lingered: his hair, his brow bones, his jaw, his shoulders, his waist…Vader felt like he was being appraised, but more than anything it made him want to preen for the man.

“Would you like some food? I did my best to make it edible.” Obi-Wan offered with a raised brow. He tilted the plate in his hand towards Vader to show what was being offered, but Vader didn’t look down at the food. No, his eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan’s own, unwilling to look away now that the lovely, kind gaze was fixed on Vader himself.

Oh, Obi-Wan had no idea that Vader was never going to let him go.

Lips stretched into a wide smile, Vader looked at Obi-Wan from underneath his lashes. Of course his human would invite him without Vader even asking, of course even when wary Obi-Wan would show this mysterious and possibly (definitely) dangerous stranger kindness. Vader was sure Obi-Wan only did it so he could interrogate Vader and figure out what kind of threat he was, but still – Vader had been invited.

Still, he had to ask, himself: “May I join you at your table, Jedi?”

Humming, Obi-Wan set his own plate down before gesturing to the other empty seat. “Please do. I’ll prepare you a plate.”

Immensely satisfied, Vader took his seat, watching Obi-Wan’s back once again as he fixed Vader a meal his form did not require but he would happily eat nonetheless. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan didn’t know what he’d just invited to his table in into his life; Vader was just so pleased his Obi-Wan didn’t make him kill him.

–

Months went by, and Vader was as ingratiated into Temple life as he could be, all things considered. Unlike Obi-Wan and a spare few others, most of the Jedi were thrown off by Vader’s eyes and way of speaking, as most mortals were. Many of them threw the word Sith at him, which he came to understand to mean mortals that used the Dark Side of the Force rather than the Light that the Jedi used.

(At first, Vader had to hold back his laughter. Firstly, because they truly thought him to be a mere mortal; and secondly, at their concepts of the Force as a binary thing to be used. It would come for them all in the end, regardless of if it was Light or Dark.

He couldn’t deny, though, how Light Obi-Wan was, how he seemed almost radioactive with warmth and goodness. It made Vader impossibly hungry for him.)

Much according to plan, Vader never strayed from Obi-Wan’s side. At first Obi-Wan allowed it because of his curiosity when it came to exactly what Vader was, considering his adamant denial of being a Sith, but eventually it shifted into his wanting Vader around. Maybe Obi-Wan wasn’t aware that it was want, but Vader had ensured that a moment away from him would feel empty, wrong, unnatural for the Jedi. A benefit of being with Obi-Wan meant Vader was rarely unwelcome anymore, for Obi-Wan was often welcomed wherever he went, and he always wanted Vader to tag along. Still, there were times Vader was rejected and he had to kill them, but Obi-Wan didn’t need to know that.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to know because he still didn’t know what Vader was. He knew he was no Sith, and that he was “Force sensitive,” which was Obi-Wan’s own explanation that Vader allowed for the Jedi’s own peace of mind. But Vader did not want to reveal his true nature for fear that it might cause Obi-Wan to turn him away, which would gut Vader completely. Not only would he lose Obi-Wan, but he’d have to kill him then, too, and that would make Vader impossibly sad, like his mother’s death had. Though this would be worse, since it’d be done by Vader’s own hand.

Although, Vader still had fears. Since Obi-Wan didn’t know the nature of Vader’s being, he wouldn’t know to be careful with his words. If Vader were to ask to join him anywhere – the refectory, the markets, a Council meeting – and Obi-Wan were to say no, even apologetically, Vader would have no choice. So Vader often did not give Obi-Wan a choice and simply went with him. That and his training Obi-Wan to always want and expect Vader’s presence helped keep his sweet Jedi alive.

That was why, even though it made him feel just a little bit bad, Vader didn’t ask when he started sharing Obi-Wan’s bed. Vader had never craved to be so close to a human, not since his mother, but this was different. He wanted to crack Obi-Wan open and crawl inside, to be invited into the man’s own body, so he took the next best thing: crawling into the man’s bed and curling around him, holding him close though careful not to crush him so completely like he desired.

One night, Vader was holding Obi-Wan close to his body, both of them without shirts. Vader constantly pushed their boundaries, stripping away at the barriers that kept him from Obi-Wan’s core so much as the man would allow him. When he felt sure enough it wouldn’t push his Jedi away, Vader would press his lips or his tongue to Obi-Wan’s bare skin, getting his taste on his tongue to satiate the need to devour the man whole. Tonight, his chest was plastered to Obi-Wan’s scarred, freckled, strong back. His nose was pressed to the man’s nape so he could inhale his scent as the man started to fall asleep. It pleased Vader to no end that Obi-Wan felt safe enough in Vader’s arms to sleep, even as Vader touched and tasted every part of the man he was allowed to. Like now, how he pressed his lips to his nape, making his way towards his ear and then his cheek, unable to hide his own smile when he felt Obi-Wan’s cheek move beneath his lips as the man’s mouth stretched into a smile of his own.

Vader’s smile quickly faded once he pulled away, though, as he took in the sight of Obi-Wan below him. The man was beautiful, of course, and always would be, but Vader couldn’t stand the sight of the crinkles beside his eyes and the gray peppering the man’s hair at his temples and within his beard. Again, Obi-Wan wore the signs of aging beautifully, but the fact that he was aging at all sent pure rage through Vader’s meticulously crafted being. How dare Vader be reminded that he finally got what he wanted, but he couldn’t keep it?

Unless… “Obi-Wan,” he said, voice as flat as always.

“Yes, darling?” Obi-Wan hummed, eyes still shut so he couldn’t see the way the name sent a shiver through Vader.

“If you could live forever, would you?”

Vader waited with bated breath as Obi-Wan considered his question. Finally, he answered, “I’m not sure. It seems like it would be a rather dull and lonely way to be.”

You have no idea, Vader wanted to say. Instead, he asked, “What if you had someone who could live with you forever? Would you do it then?”

This made Obi-Wan smile, eyes still shut. “Would this person happen to have beautiful gold eyes and the loveliest curls in his hair?”

A scoff escaped Vader, and he pressed a kiss to the gray hairs just above Obi-Wan’s ears. “Perhaps.”

Obi-Wan hummed, turning into the kiss. “Well if that’s the case, then I suppose I could settle for forever.”

It took every ounce of Vader’s control to not crush Obi-Wan in a hug, to not smother him with kisses until he couldn’t breathe. His sweet, perfect Jedi, always accepting Vader and inviting him in, even if he didn’t know it.

It would take time to make Obi-Wan like him, and even more time to get Obi-Wan to understand and accept his fate, but that was okay. Now, they had nothing but time.

prompted fic collection on ao3

[golden--doodler]

Soooo, what are YOUR thoughts on the movie 👀?

OMG YES thank you! I've been so excited and waiting to give my thoughts on the movie, glad this ask trade worked out.

As I mentioned when I asked this to you, I was lucky enough to catch this in theaters (I went with my dad :D). It was one of the most entertaining theater experiences because of how excited I was and how GLORIOUS it was to see all the Bob's Burgers characters on the big screen (spoiler alert: I love the movie). The animation was 11/10 chef's kiss on a theater screen. Also, for some reason, the sound system in the theater we were in was TOP NOTCH and had such good quality, it made everything sound amazing too, especially all the songs.

Speaking of the songs, I love all of them so, so much. I've listened to all of them on repeat so much, it's insane, especially "Sunny Side-Up Summer". It's just so catchy and upbeat and fun and just gah, I can't get enough of it. It encapsulates the feeling of summertime so perfectly, it's hard to put into words. I just wish there were one or two more of them to listen to and geek out about! I especially love the very brief "Sunny Side-Up Summer" reprise that Linda sings. It just shows off her and Bob's relationship so well, as well as Linda's personality--her giddy nature and boundless optimism getting through to Bob, even for just a second, is so freaking wholesome. Also yes, everyone's muppet dancing is brilliant and I can't get enough of it.

Well, just the upgraded animation in general is SO GOOD. It helps that they got the largest team possible to help give the character designs more detail and to make the animation so much more fluid and bouncy! Comparing it to the show's animation feels like night and day, it shows that they were determined to make it look worthy of the big screen. But if another person ever tries to comment on the Bob's Burgers style being ugly, I shall immediately point to the movie (I do actually enjoy the Bob's Burgers style though, even just for the show).

The plot itself is also super fun. Some people have commented on it just feeling like an elongated episode, and while I can see that, I do appreciate how they managed to up the stakes for the movie in a meaningful way whilst not deviating from the nature of the show. It would've been so easy for them to have something super insane happen to kickstart the plot, and while what actually happens IS insane (I mean, hello, murder!) it's not so insane that it feels unfaithful. And in general, having the movie be a murder mystery is wonderful--I mean, not the murder part, obviously, but it makes for quite an intriguing mystery that needs to be unraveled. The fact that they foreshadowed the sinkhole exploding by having people trip over the sidewalk in Season 12 is amazing.

Tbh, I don't even care that it's VERY obvious in hindsight that Grover did it (I mean, they would never remove Calvin or Felix from the show) it still surprised me, and I think he's my favorite villain the show has had. He's even more deliciously evil than Felix was in the two-part season four finale, and "Not That Evil" is just a masterpiece, it had me wheezing so hard the first time I saw it. I mean, his weirdly high-pitched voice and flailing dance moves? Yes. Also, the way the song is structured as well is just satisfying to me, for some reason. I think it might be the transition from Calvin asking him if his entire plan is about his mega park idea, and him singing about his entire idea for the mega park, I don't know, the way he sings that is great. And Linda going "Ooh giftshops!" is hilarious. He's so horrible and it's a delight to witness his insanity unfold.

The humor in general is also very great and very well done. I mean, it's Bob's Burgers, of course, the movie is going to be funny. But the jokes just keep coming, especially from my boy, Gene. I mean, him going "Can I say, 'Honey, no!'?" lives rent-free in my brain. Also, Mickey going "Cops don't dance around like that. They dance like this!" and then him doing some strange, unexplainable dance moves is peak comedy. Plus, I think Sergeant Bosco's role in this is what solidified him as one of my favorite side characters. He's too funny, trying to insist that being in Robbery is great while being terrible at going undercover--and then he gets a legitimately awesome moment in the end when he gets to arrest Grover! Love that for him.

And YES, I one-hundred thousand million percent agree that Bob and Linda are SO FREAKING SWEET in this movie. They might be at their best here, or at least almost at their best. Not only in how they interact with their kids but with each other, of course. Linda beginning her role in "Sunny Side-Up Summer" by insisting that Mr. Dowling is going to say "Oh wow" to their food, and nothing's going to stop their business? Yup. She is always giving him the encouragement about the restaurant that he needs, and it shines so well in this number. Not to mention I just love John Robert's singing voice as Linda for some reason, especially when it blends with H. Jon Benjamin's. Very satisfying. Plus, she shows off even more of her partner of the year tendencies with that wonderful scene of them in bed together, having that extremely touching and real conversation. The flashback of Linda being pregnant? 🥺

She's such a good wife for reminding him why he started the business in the first place. Then punches him in the nuts as "a metaphor". God, I love her.

Plus, that scene of them all in the sinkhole near the end, with Linda actually straight-up giving up for once, and thinking that they're all gonna die? I mean, Jesus. Rip my heart out, why don't you. I kinda wish they spent more time on this, Linda being so downtrodden and how that's affecting her. And as for Bob, he definitely shines at this moment. His realization that he needs to step it up and give back Linda's optimism is something I didn't know I needed. Then he actually succeeds in getting them out and saving their lives! But not before that scene of him talking about his mother, COME ON. My heart couldn't take seeing his mother's face for the first time, plus toddler Bob!!! I also love how he wants to go save the Fischoeders on his own immediately when they escape, but everyone else joins him without hesitation.

I also gotta mention Louise's whole arc, because it's also what makes this movie. I love how it's mostly centered around her thinking about her bunny ears and what they mean to her for the first time. It was super interesting seeing her doubt herself and her bravery so much, to the point where she gets convinced by melted Kuchi Kopi to go into the sinkhole because she always seems so self-assured on the outside. It's really nice seeing her actually crack the murder case eventually, and even save the Fischoeders' lives in the end. Plus, gain the courage to do the "Dead Man's Drop" and ultimately feel okay without her hat for a few seconds.

Going into the not-so-positives, I also agree that Gene deserved more! It feels like everyone else in the Belcher family got more to do than him, it would've been interesting to see him doubt his musical abilities again--it did seem like they were laying the groundwork with that, with his daydream nightmare about the robots insulting his music skills. Maybe even having him being in a band be useful for something in the plot. Though, his bonding with Mr. Fischoeder over playing the organ was very wholesome. And he's still probably the funniest one in this movie. I also definitely agree with wishing the side characters got more time to shine. Teddy got a ton to do (his enthusiasm about the cart/the olive bar is incredible) but the other side characters, like the ones at Wagstaff, are just kinda there and then gone (even Courtney just gets a blink-and-you'll-miss it cameo in "Sunny-Side Up Summer"). And while I appreciate the fact that Mort appears in the movie, he also gets literally nothing to do.

I get that they needed to focus on the main characters for the movie, but it is still a shame. I honestly enjoyed what they did cook up (hah, I didn't even mean for that pun to happen, if you can call it a pun) so much that I just wanted more. Seeing some of the deleted scenes they had definitely solidified this, they NEED to rework that deleted scene with Bob, Linda, and Teddy in airport security for an episode or another movie or something, because it's pure gold.

There's just a lot you can do with these characters and this world that they weren't gonna be able to do everything or please everyone. However, they did make a solid movie, in my opinion, and despite the fact that I've already watched it three times, I highkey want to buy the Blu-ray just to listen to the commentary and go through all the other behind-the-scenes stuff. Even though it's definitely not perfect, I will fight for this movie if I need to.

Also yes, the fact that out of all the characters, Jimmy Jr. is not given a dance sequence during the end credits also haunts me. Like, what?? Seriously, Zeke and Andy and Ollie got dance sequences, what was the excuse not to put in Jimmy Jr.??? That being said, though, seeing Tammy and Jocelyn dancing in perfect sync was actually really sweet, a nice surprise.

Anyway, wish there were more Gene and more side characters and more Jimmy Jr. dancing (I think I just want more in general) but I do have a soft spot for this movie. I might revisit it soon, I want to write more about it on here, haha (mainly because I'm sure I forgot a few things I liked here).

[anerdquemoraaolado]

Grains of Sand by the Shore

Chapter 12

Willing to get her hands dirty and guarantee a corner that was her own, just like, Shuri walked alone to the beach carrying wood and rope, starting to create a structure from scratch. Tiredness eventually got the better of her and she asked her handmaidens to summon the equivalent of builders to serve her queen. The men were very honored and following her instructions after a long day of work, the place was ready. Perhaps the Talokani had more strength and endurance than ordinary humans, such was their speed.

 Thoroughly grateful, she made a point of saying how grateful she was for their help. She came up with the idea of rewarding them with the same meal she had that morning, full and tasty. They nearly refused, but using her authority, she declared it was their queen's command. So they sat down and ate with her, fascinated by her generosity, by the clear appreciation she had for being around them.

 “I want to thank you again for what you did, it turned out faster than I expected, you have no idea what this place means to me “ she explained admiringly.

 “If you allow me, great lady, what do you intend to build here? “ one of the workers dared to ask, even feeling shy and even bold.

 “Ah, it's going to be my personal laboratory “ Shuri said happily “ I had one in Wakanda, I mean, I do, I can visit it, but I wanted one here in my new home, to keep myself busy, to help you with whatever you need and learn from you too.

 “My queen, you already know so much, what else is there to learn?” another of the men asked.

 “There's always something new to learn, and Talokan is still a mystery to me “ she took a deep breath “ I want to see how your houses work, your technology, get to know all of you more closely.

 “Your presence would honor us greatly, my queen “ the eldest commented on her gesture of kindness.

 Shuri nodded, feeling that she was saying and doing the right thing. She finally said goodbye to them, adopting the gesture of open hands, not forgetting her arms across her chest. She would always be part of both peoples now.

 Inside the hut, she considered the good work the talokani had done. Without further ado, she activated her kimoyo beads and addressed Griot.

 “Hello, Griot, it's me, are you active? “ she commanded the AI.

 "Active and operating, Queen Shuri, I hope all is well after your wedding," said Griot, taking note of the latest developments.

 “Well, thank you I guess “ she replied to that distractedly “ I want you to organize the research and communication structures that were set up here, activate them now.

 “As you wish, queen “ agreed the AI, getting to work.

 Being called by that title still made her shudder, it was kind of weird remembering the fact that she was now a sovereign. Letting it go, she waited for Griot to complete his spell.

 “80% installed, 90% active and operational “ he confirmed.

 “Yes, thanks! “ celebrated Shuri, starting to test the holograms, her highly equipped technological navigation system had been successfully installed, the familiarity of the situation was comforting.

 What dampened her excitement was the fact that there was no one around to show off her feat. She thought of Namor, who had been absent all the time when they were supposed to be spending time together. On the other hand, she couldn't blame him, he was the king after all.

 Taking a deep breath, she decided to pay her kingdom a visit. She allowed herself to pass by the people, who found her approach strange at first, but finally welcomed her, even more so after the morning workers had approached her.

 “Your Majesty, Talokan appreciates your visit “ Kimjayo, the oldest worker, greeted her “ to what do we owe your glorious presence?

 “Oh nothing much, to be honest, I felt lonely, my husband is doing things that needed his attention “ Shuri clarified, not knowing for sure if that was the most recommended thing to do.

 "I hope your lab worked out," the man commented.

 "Ah yes, it's working perfectly," she confirmed.

 Shuri was then moved by her curiosity, swimming towards the next group that was nearby, women braiding ornaments mixed with ropes and pearls, a delicate and perfect work. This time, she just smiled in approval.

 She saw fishermen returning with their nets full, even carrying their food supply. The group of kids she noticed next didn't realize she was there, very competitive and focused on their ball game. They swam frantically trying to steal it from each other, you could see that there were two teams. The ball went through the hoop, an act she understood as a point scored.

 “Very well, congratulations! “ she shouted, which woke up the children.

 Recognizing who was watching their game, they showed their trembling little palms to her, surrendering in fear.

 “Don't be like that, it's okay, I was just admiring the game, I won't bother you anymore  “ Shuri laughed sweetly and waved goodbye.

 She realized that perhaps she had spent a good deal of time there, surveying the daily lives of her people. It pleased her to know and see that they were all right. Returning to the lab, she saw that the place was not as empty as she had left it. Namor watched everything around him, impressed.

 "Hi," she said casually, hoping not to startle him.

 “Hello”he returned the greeting”I was admiring your work, it's magnificent what you did.

 “Oh thank you, I didn't do it alone “ Shuri felt embarrassed all of a sudden.

 “I see, your talking device told me about the help you had and how everything works “ he replied “ by the way, thank you for allowing me to enter here, there were no restrictions or anything like that.

 "Of course, you're the king and my husband, it seemed like a natural choice." She shrugged.

 “I hope you've finished your chores, I'd like to talk to you “ he warned, which made her alert.

 “You can talk, what happened? “ she was attentive to what would come next.

 “Attuma told me that guards told him that they saw you walking around the city, alone, close to the people, is that true? “ he asked, not sounding angry, just eager for answers.

 “Yes, I did, did I get in any trouble for it? “ she hoped she hadn't started a fight.

 “I don't think so, it's just that being present so closely in the daily life of our people is not a custom of a sovereign “ he mentioned the question “ I explained that to you the day we got married.

 “I know, Namor, I'm sorry, I don't want to infringe your traditions, but it doesn't seem right to be distant, even more so as a foreigner, I need to show that their queen is reliable, that's just my attention when I approach “ Shuri approached  him as she spoke “ I don't see myself as a distant idol, I can be their protector and counselor, but not unapproachable.

 "They received you with trepidation, even so," Namor added to the conversation.

 “That's true, but then I managed to break the ice and we got along well “ she rolled her eyes when she saw his strange face “ undo the embarrassment. Look, Namor, Talokan never had a queen and maybe because of that, I have the right to create new traditions and this new thing can be good.

 Shuri was in anticipation of his answer while her husband reflected on what she had said. She was right, he had brought Shuri there and shown her the kingdom, it was logical that she would continue to see it more closely, even more as its queen. Surrendered to his wife once more, he decided to consider it.

 “You're right, I won't be mad at you for that”he looked at her as he spoke, contemplating her face very closely, taking on the urge to touch it with affection.

 “Thank you “ Shuri felt relieved, on the point of giving him a sudden hug.

 The gesture surprised Namor, but he responded, patting her back.

 “Tell me how your visit was “ he finally asked, in a very good”humored tone.

 He spent the rest of the day and most of the night listening to Shuri and details of her, almost in a trance. He concluded that she was as good for Talokan as she was for him.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Part 11- Wedding Daze (2 of 2)

As Legolas entered the garden with you arm in arm and Tauriel in tow, she stopped you for a brief minute. "I have something else for you" she smiled and picked up a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers that were laying on a table. "I put these together for you to carry." she said and handed them to you. You gazed at them bringing them to your nose. You closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of your soon to be husband.

"Tauriel. Thank you so much. These are absolutely perfect. You are perfect." you said to her so sincerely. "It's so crazy to me that purple has always been my favorite color and lilacs my favorite flower and that Thranduil smells of lilacs and has a garden consumed with them....and I'm rambling" you laughed shaking your head. Your nerves were on overload as butterflies fluttered vigorously in your stomach.

Tauriel smiled. "Signs my dear. He was always your destiny." Shall we? The groom is awaiting his bride." and she motioned with her hand leading to a pathway. Legolas and you continued on as she followed. You turned a corner and saw the most beautiful little bridge all decorated with pretty white flowers and glowing lights. You hadn't been in this part of the garden before. There was a large structure made out of stone in the distance. Tauriel noticed you staring at it in wonder. "That is where your reception will be. I know you wanted your wedding small and sweet, so we figured you might enjoy a big celebration party. Yes? Lots of food, music and dancing with many woodland elves attending." she asked curiously.

You grinned so big. "Hell yes!" and you laughed as did her and Legolas. Onward you all continued, over the bridge and down the dirt path, your eyes darting all around wondering where you were going as you passed the stone building. The woodland realm was never ending and you were amazed at this gorgeous unseen territory. Your butterflies were becoming overwhelming as you awaited seeing Thranduil. His scent blew through the light breeze into your face. He was near. You gasped and closed your eyes as the breeze tickled your face. You heard water in the distance

Legolas then stopped and said "Open your eyes my Lady." You slowly opened them and there he was about 50 feet up the pathway from you standing with his back to you on a tiny bridge by a glorious waterfall that dove into a small radiantly blue pond.

He knew you were there and slowly began to turn around. The way he looked at you and smiled when you appeared in his sight took your breath away. His eyes and smile melted your heart. God was he the most beautiful you had ever seen him, as if that were even possible as he was always so appealing. He wore the most majestic hand crafted crown, his long silky white strands of hair lightly blew in the radiant spring breeze. A long silver robe lined in a reddish tone rested on his forearms over a matching Kingly suit that fit to the shape of his perfectly formed body. You had never seen him so happy and knowing it was because of you was an indescribable feeling.

Thranduil came face to face with you in the distance. sliding his eyes up and down your body with a look of disbelief to your beauty...and seeing his son by your side blew him away. This was everything he ever dreamed of as did you. His hand reached out to yours as you approached him. Legolas took your hand and joined it into his father's and then laid his other hand on top of yours and Thranduil's, giving a glance to each of you with a sweet smile and went to stand beside his father. Tauriel then went and stood beside you. You stood frozen peering up into his eyes. "Nin mel, nin rís, cin are bewitching with such dazzling beautui" ( My love, my Queen, you are bewitching with such dazzling beauty) he said and bowed his head to you. His words, his voice, his tone all made your heart skip a beat. You shyly smiled like a girl who's crush first spoke to them....but then glanced around confused as there was no one officiating. Thranduil heard your thoughts and explained. "Josephine, my love, it is all much different here. None of that is needed. I will speak to you of what is in my heart and you will do the same and then it will become binding as we both confirm our promise of eternal life at each other's side. Is this satisfactory to you my love?" he lovingly said as his eyes shined in the brightest blue you had ever seen them.

"Yes my Lord, I am more than satisfied." you said and bowed your head back to him. "And might I add, you as well my Yandere Thranduil, are absolutely stunning, breath taking literally. You are just perfectly beautiful my King. Inside and out."

Thranduil graciously and humbly smiled at your words. "Let us begin then. I will start if that is acceptable?" You smiled and nodded.

"Unity is balance and balance is unity. Hear these sacred words and understand." Thranduil picked up a small branch and lifts it to the sky "This branch that I hold is a symbol of air, know and remember that this is the element of life, of intelligence, and of inspiration which moves us onward. May this symbol of air bring to our union the power of mind." He lays down the branch and picks up his sword and says "This sword that I hold is a symbol of fire, know and remember that this is the element of light, of energy, and of the vigor which runs through our veins. May this sword of fire bring to our union the power of will." He then lays down the sword and picks up a chalice and says "This chalice that I hold is a symbol of water, know and remember that this is the element of love, of growth, and of the fruitfulness of the Earth. May this chalice of water bring to our union the power of desire." Thranduil lays down the chalice and picks up an Elven Star pendent and says "The pendent that I hold is a symbol of earth, know and remember that this is the element of law, of endurance, of the understanding which cannot be shaken. May this pentacle of the earth bring to our handfasting the power of the steadfast." He Lays down the pendent and then picks up a large oval moonstone and says "This moonstone I hold is a symbol of the spirit, know and remember that this is the element of magic and of the sacred weave that binds us to this existence. May this moonstone of spirit bind us in love and unity."

Thranduil then looked at Tauriel. "The rings please." and he bowed his head to her. You became dumbfounded.

"Thranduil, I...I didn't even think of that, I don't have one for..." you stuttered as you looked at Tauriel. She smiled bringing over two exquisite silver rings, one for you and one for Thranduil. Yours had a large illuminating diamond protruding from it. Your eyes grew wide at the shining white gemstone of starlight. You jerked your head back to Thranduil in shock.

Thranduil grinned. "I told you I knew someone that creates beautiful jewelry. I had these made shortly after I asked your hand in marriage. I know you were quite content with my ring of hair but I still desired to give you a proper symbol as you would have in your world. This is my gift to you...that "someone" mentioned to you and should not have." he said and gave Tauriel a smirk of dissatisfaction.

She looked down like a scolded child. "I am sorry my Lord, I did not tell her what it was as you know."

"All is well Tauriel. I am not angry. Let us continue." he deemed with a smile and began again. You now had tears leaking down your cheeks because he had done something so special for you. "Life is a never-ending circle. Is it not fitting that a circle shall serve as a symbol of a life lived in never-ending love." Thranduil took your left hand this time, desiring to place the ring on your ring finger in honor of the human part of you. As he slid it on, he spoke "By root and seed, by bud and stem. By leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, In the name of the Seldarine, Gods of the Elven people, I, Thranduil Oropherion, take thee, Josephine, to my hand, heart, and my spirit, at the setting of the sun, and the rising of the stars. Nor shall death part us, for in the fullness of time, we shall be born again, at the same time, and in the same place as each other, and we shall meet and know and remember and love again. I love you more than my own life my Queen. And so it is written and so it ever shall be, my Queen bequeathed to me for eternity. I take you by my side as one with my soul and promise to love you always. No other shall ever have my heart." The ring fit like magic as you gloriously stared at it and then back into his alluring love struck eyes. "And now my Lady, it is your turn." and he lightly bowed his head with a sweet smile.

You became speechless for a moment and then said meekly "Thranduil, your incredible words....I have nothing I can say to match such creative imagination." and you looked down feeling a loss for words.

"My sweet Josephine Caroline Brady. Speak of your heart to me. That is all that matters. There are no rules or expectancy of your words." Thranduil softly and genuinely spoke as he stroked your tear filled face with his hand, lifting it back up to his. You looked at him mesmerized that he just called you by your full name. You quickly thought of your mother that you briefly knew as your middle name was her first name. Oh the things Thranduil picked up from your thoughts here and there amazed you of how attentive he was to the smallest of things. Just another reason that made you adore him so.

You shook a little and then nodded, closing your eyes, inhaling a deep breath and releasing. You opened your eyes, took the ring for him from Tauriel and then Thranduil's right hand into yours and began to slide it onto his index finger and your words flowed out with ease. "From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of a prince. I grew up watching all the fairytales on tv and read so many books. By the time I became an adult, my beliefs in that were of reality. I knew that those things weren't real but just a dream, a wish from the heart. But somewhere in my soul I still believed. My mother, from what I can remember, would read me bedtime stories of these magical entities and she would sing me a song of a man on a great white horse that would ride down and save me, taking me to his castle far away in the heavens." You began to choke up and then had a sudden memory of her putting lilacs in your room in a vase by your bed. You remembered how much you loved the scent of those compared to any other flower. It always reminded you of her. You gasped and stared at Thranduil. He heard your memory and graced his hand over your face. He smiled so big and his thoughts spoke loud into yours, reminding you of what Tauriel told you as you first entered the gardens earlier. You were always his destiny. You began to sob uncontrollably. Thranduil pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head.

"My love. It is alright. I would like to believe your mother's presence is here with you, sharing that unforgotten memory with you to comfort you and guide you along your path, giving you strength and endurance." he said as he gently squeezed you against him. His words and arms were of magic as you pulled back and wiped your tears, smiling at him with such love.

You continued on, holding both of his hands. "As you know, I went through a very excruciating time, more so after my father died. There was a moment my mind shut down and all I could do was dream of the childhood fairytales. I read the stories night after night and cried myself to sleep calling for you, although not knowing of your true existence, but I still wanted to believe. When I ran off that night into the forest, I never imagined what happened would ever happen. That you or any of this could ever be a reality. And then it was, just like that, in the blink of an eye. I cannot believe how scared I was of you when I first saw you but yet so drawn to you. None of it seemed real. I truly believed I had died and it was some form of an afterlife that I always believed in. But when you first touched me, I knew you were real. You calmed all my fears and two things I was absolutely positive of. First, you were an Elf as you had willingly revealed that to me.. And second, I fell unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you in that moment. I have loved you every day since with every breath I take." You sighed and then went on "I also love you more than my own life my King. And so it is written and so it ever shall be, my King bequeathed to me for eternity. I take you by my side as one with my soul and promise to love you always. No other shall ever have my heart." and you pushed the ring snug onto his finger.

Thranduil looked at you with a tear streaking out of each eye. "You see my Love, that was not that hard." he smiled and kissed your forehead.

Legolas then walked in front of you both. "As the grass of the fields and the trees of the woods bend together under the pressures of the storm, so too must you both bend when the wind blows strong. But know that as quickly as the storm comes, so equally quickly may it leave. Yet as you both stand strong in each other's strength, so shall you receive strength. Together you are one, apart you are nothing. Know that no two people can be exactly alike. No more can any two people fit together, perfect in every way. There will be times when it will be hard to give and to love, but then see your reflection as in a woodland pool, when the image you see looks sad and angered, then it is time for you to smile and to love, for it is not fire that puts out fire. In return will the image in the pool smile and love. So change your anger for love, and tears for joy, it is no weakness to admit a wrong, more it is a strength and a sight for learning. Let the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and these I and Tauriel bear witness too that Thranduil and Josephine, have been joined together in the sight of the elements and the Gods of the Seldarine. And may they bless them, as we do ourselves, and so shall the two be conjoined as one mind, one heart, and one soul together in peace and love through the union of life's bond now and forever." Legolas bowed his head to you both, and smiled intently saying " Ada, you may now kiss your bride."

Thranduil and you smiled so lovingly at each other as he slid the fingers on each of his hands up into your hair on each side of the back of your head, drawing his face down to yours and kissing your lips so passionately and tenderly for a very long time. Tauriel couldn't contain her happiness and squealed jumping up and down clapping like a crazed seal. You giggled as your lips parted from Thranduil's and jumped up throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly as his arms held your body's thrust up against him securely and swung you around in circles as you both laughed. He then stopped, holding you still as your bare feet dangled in the air and looked you dead in the eye. "Wanna go to a party, my wife, Mrs. Thranduil?"

(Hope you all enjoy the wedding photos I created below. It was fun making them. I felt a need to have them for this part of the story. I know, her hair and such is different in each one but that couldn't be avoided. I know they are amateur edits but I am still very pleased with them, specially the first close up one. and...I'll admit, I cried a little writing this story lol.) More to come. Wanna go to a real party? (Titanic style? Lol)

[ratsoh-writes]

So E totally took Pop on a fun beach side trip that i don't want to rp

Either at Seashore (or something like it, less busy), E finds a bed and breakfast with a bedroom that locks and a large bathroom combo to stay at for 3-4 days. Suds gets to come, too, but only if they don't be mean and stay in the flowerpot in the living area.

Pop and E spend a lot of time just walking around and exploring the beaches and cliffsides. It's very pretty and a bunch of different plants and animals compared to in the city are there to investigate.

Pop enjoys the sun (says it feels good on his bones) but E is a human with dumb human skin and instead wears a large sun hat almost everywhere they go. Pop stole it a few times when it was cloudy to be funny.

They did a lot of beach combing and found many crab friends. Many cool rocks were collected. They kept one shell because it was super cool (shhh). There was a competition to find the weirdest shape of driftwood. A makeshift sand castle was made from nearby wet sand and the driftwood helped make a structure (didn't bring any buckets). It was glorious.

Along the way, they visit a few small Mom and Pop shops and E gets a magnet of the city and a bag of local saltwater taffy. They try the flavors together and rank them. Lemon lime wins with watermelon in second place. They find a few locally permitted campfire spots and make s'mores one night. At one point they got ice cream in the afternoon and walked the beach, but then the seagulls attacked. Let's just say they didn't win.

The b&b was nice and they had a good breakfast with cute little orange wedges. The large bathroom had very relaxing bubble baths in it after walking all day. E had some trouble with Pop's sleepwalking but got used to it by the end of the trip. He kept running into walls since the layout was different than he was used to.

E did end up getting a sunburn on one of her forearms and Pop got to learn about that first hand. It hurts but you can also leave a white handprint on the red skin for a few seconds, but then he wanted to try making his own aloe vera and that was a fun vacation project.

The drive home was nice and they sang songs in the car from all different genres. Pop also kept asking when E was going to shed her skin (from the burn) because you gotta see it at least once, right?

Pff this was beautiful. You have pops character worded perfectly for this

A few other activities:

Pop shows E the tiny reef birds and where they nest. They take lots of pictures of the eggs

The coast is normally pretty chilly in the mornings and evenings. Both E and pop wind up getting those woven beach jackets

Pop has been collecting sea glass the whole trip. He’s promised E a home made sun catcher when he gets back

[pidge-poetry]

ALBUM REVIEW: Foals - Life Is Yours

9/10 June 15, 2022 | Lori Gava | Album Reviews

The Oxford, UK band Foals has undergone some epic changes over the last three years. During that period, the band has experienced heady highs and painful lows. Their 2019 release of the two-parter Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost hit number 1 on the charts, supported by a wildly successful tour, providing a mountaintop experience for the band.

Foals would see the band lose two of their founding members as both resigned from the band. Back in 2018 bassist Walter Gervers would leave to start a family, and keyboardist Edwin Congreave would leave to finish an Economics degree. The results of these changes displayed a band continuing as a trio to tighten up to their musical constructs.

Foals would continue to work on the next release throughout lockdown, not knowing if or when they would be able to tour live to support their efforts. On June 17, the band triumphantly releases Life Is Yours, their seventh studio album, and a celebration of life-affirmation as the world emerges from lockdown. The release is loaded with rambunctious roof-lifting music that challenges the listener to dance along.

Foals on Life Is Yours delivers an amalgam of sunny, motorik, disco/house-influenced music, combined with the proprietary Foals sound of driving guitars and math rock synths. The band looks forward but harkens back to their earlier releases, Antidotes and Total Life Forever. The change in the lineup seems to allow the band to find a new way to express themselves. The heavy mood of their last studio release, Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost, is lifted in a glorious pop party as only Foals can present.

The band leaves no doubt this is a party affair with the opening eponymous selection, "Life is Yours", which bursts open with a pop punch as their distinctive guitar sonic takes centre stage reassuring the Foals faithful that the elements that made them so alluring are still present. They declare that it is time to put the pandemic behind us, using an addictive funky bass to create a great summer song that will explode live.

The band continues as they began with "Wake Me Up", another energy-packed track that segues perfectly with the opener. The song asks us to come dance with them in the streets as the lockdowns become a thing of memory. The sing-along chorus is a panacea to the last two years of dread. "2 am" slows down the euphoria by looking at the changes in relationships. It is here in particular but also throughout the album that the remaining band members seem to show a wistfulness at the departure of their friends and bandmates.

"2001" delivers some serious dance-inducing disco bass as it extols the wonders of summertime, "Blue tongues and candy floss". Again, this brilliant marriage of sonics from Foals' Total Life Forever album mixed with pop and disco elements produces a winning track. "Flutter" goes back to the band's math rock days, adding falsetto vocals from lead singer Yannis Philippakis to create another outstanding track. "Looking High" is a personal favourite. The beautiful structure of the song allows for a swirling feeling yet never loses the dance beat. The lyrics in the song keep it from being too lightweight as the narrator seems to be looking high and low for the life prior to lockdown. The track continues to build and build to an explosive finale which is classic Foals.

"Under the Radar" channels, Devo and the Talking Heads producing a track filled with pleasing Post Punk and New Wave elements. "Crest of the Wave" switches to a melancholy vibe as this mellow floating track unspools. Here Philippakis' vocals take front and centre as the song provides foam-flecked sunny nostalgia with the almost mournful lyric "I'll always be waiting for the crest of the wave". "The Sound" is Foals providing a fantastic blue-eyed soul offering. The drums, funky bass with adamant keyboards delivers a straightforward punch. The final track, "Wild Green", is a mesmerizing combination of motorik, and techno dollops of goodness. The energy and intricacy of the selection is noteworthy as the momentum builds and builds to a dramatic explosion as that distinctive Foals guitar guides thru cacophony and then nothingness.

Life Is Yours is a worthy addition to the Foals discography and will please fans as they revel in the release's goodness. Few bands could take the body blow of losing two founding members and not flounder a bit on a new release. The remaining members took the losses in their stride, developing a new way of expressing themselves without losing the central core of what has always made them so alluring.

Their goal with Life Is Yours was to celebrate the world's reawakening, successfully pulling it off. As the world awakens from the nightmare of the pandemic, many have come to appreciate the bands that are acknowledging and moving on from the pandemic. With Life is Yours, Foals produces a very straightforward celebration of returning to making music.

Foals never disappoint with brilliant releases that cause listeners to look forward to their next offerings. Life Is Yours is destined to be a very successful album for Foals.

Read the review on xsnoize.com

[cryingoflot49]

Book Review

Herds by Stephen Goldin

Is it reasonable for one community to concern themselves with the welfare of another community if the two groups share no common interests and the helping community derives no benefit from their service? Stephen Goldin’s obscure science-fiction novel Herds examines this ethical question.

The premise starts with Garnna, a member of the Zarticku who are a race of beings on another planet. Their living conditions might be described as utopian by some ideologues. They are a crime-free society where individuals belong to pod groups referred to as “herds”. The Zarticku are so perfectly honest that simply questioning one about some kind of misdoing will result in a truthful answer which may lead to retraining or re-education in most cases. Rarely, if someone needs to be punished, the ultimate penalty is social isolation, something so horrifying to the Zarticku that few would ever commit such an egregious offense to wind up in that situation.

This is the society in which Garnna lives. His job is to explore other universes, other planets, and the creatures that inhabit them. This is done by separating his mind from his body, making it free to travel vast distances that would be impossible with the limitations of his physical body. So where would an outer space creature from a utopian planet go? You guessed it! Earth! And what country do think he lands in? America! Should this even need to be explained? Originality is not a strong point in this novel.

All the Earthly action happens in the conservative enclave of San Marcos county in California. The locals are red blooded rednecks, a lot like the Texans in Easy Rider who arrest Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper for having long hair and riding motorcycles. In the mountains, on the outskirts of town, a hippy commune has been set up by a social-psychology professor who wants to study why utopian communities typically fail. Garnna sees these two groups as sub-herds within the larger herd of the human race. The professor’s name is Polaski, almost like “Polanski” as in “Roman Polanski”; it’s hard to tell if this similarity is intentional in light of the initial event that sets off the story. Near the commune is a cabin where the wife of a lawyer lives. The lawyer, Stoneham, has political ambitions, so when his wife asks for a divorce, he kills her and tries to make it look like the Manson Family murders by writing “Death to Pigs” on the wall in her blood. His brilliant plan is to frame Polaski for the murder and use this as an excuse to drive the unpopular hippies off their commune. He thinks this will elevate him to the status of hero in the town and make his electoral victory inevitable.

But of course, this is a novel, so something has to go wrong. While Garnna is out of his body and exploring the great and glorious country of America, he witnesses Stoneham’s murder. Since he is invisible, being out of his body and all, Stoneham does not know of his presence so he proceeds with his plans to whip up a lynch mob to run the commune members off their grounds. Garnna, feeling disgusted by the murder and the motive, goes back to the Zarticku and asks for permission to return and fix the situation on Earth. The Zarticku command him not to go, but Garnna disobeys.

Meanwhile, the county sheriff arrests Polaski at Stoneham’s request even though he has doubts about the professor’s guilt. Then Garnna makes mental contact with a hippy named Debby who has psychic powers that become stronger when she smokes marijuana. Debby proceeds to help Maschen solve the case. Having explained that much, I’ll say this novel isn’t really as far out as it might sound.

The strongest point of the narrative structure is the way the three herds play off against each other. The San Marcos rednecks and the counter-culture commune members are an all-too obvious source of conflict. Adding the Zarticku into the mix adds a whole other dimension. They represent a perfect society, or at least on the surface it seems perfect. The hippies are concerned with creating a perfect society in opposition to the ugly towns people who persecute them for being different. The fact that being different is a crime in both the redneck community and the Zarticku community casts a dark shadow over the utopianism of the Zarticku. In the end, Garnna gets punished for obeying his own conscience and going against the commands of the Zarticku authorities. To a lesser extent, Maschen suffers a similar fate since his pursuit of truth in the murder case will end his career as sheriff. Both characters respond to a moral calling that is higher than simply following orders. In fact, the murder case would most likely not have been solved if Maschen didn’t value truth over loyalty. Serving the common good necessitates individuality at times. Garnna also learns that individuality is sometimes necessary for problem solving.

In the middle of all this is the commune where a collective group of individuals attempt to build a utopia for the sake of a researcher who wants to improve the lot of humanity. The commune in this story fails because the lynch mob attacks them and destroys all their property. Based on research I have read on the topic of communal living, relations with the host society is one of the factors that needs to be effectively managed in order to assure the stability of the commune. Other factors that lead to communal failures include uneven or unfair delegation of work, mismanagement of necessary resources such as money and food, ineffective gatekeeping, poor conflict management, and authoritarian leadership styles. Yes, more egalitarian and democratic leadership strategies tend to foster group cohesion more than strict bullying which tends to cause conflict between leaders and followers. Despite my massive sociological digression, I’ll just say that Stephen Goldin is on to something here.

The tightly-wound narrative structure is a little too neat for my tastes, however. The elements of the story are placed together in an almost geometrical configuration. There are no loose threads or dead ends and everything is orderly, shiny, and wrapped up perfectly like a birthday gift with a bow on top, ready to be delivered safely and quickly to the reader with all parts in order. There isn’t any room for noise in this narrative. In fact it’s so finely-tuned that it runs so much like machinery that it lacks enough emotional depth and unpredictability to make the novel a little lifeless. Personally I’d be happier with a little sloppiness in a book as a trade off for my crappy Windows operating system which doesn’t run smoothly at all. Get that digital junk software running with cybernetic precision and I’ll be a much happier person.

One other positive aspect of Herds is the character development. The text is written as third-person omniscient so we have access to the private thoughts of all the main characters. This is effectively done as each one inhabits a singular mind of their own with its distinct personality and preoccupations. This makes the contrast between each individual bold. The downside of this is that each person is specifically crafted to represent a specific idea, each representing a narrative function in the plot development. Thus, the depth of each character only goes so far and it is hard to imagine any of them being anything other than what they are in this particular story. It is like how when I was in high school and we used to joke about how our teachers all lived in shoe boxes because we couldn’t imagine them having any life outside the school. This isn’t a major problem, but it is something that makes the novel fall a little short of its potential. Then again, the aim of the writing is not excessively high to begin with.

Overall, the biggest problem with Herds is its unoriginality and its predictability. Basing the murder on the death of Sharon Tate and trying to blame the crime on a commune leader named Polaski reeks of manipulation and opportunism considering this was written in the early 1970s. The author probably looked at the Manson murders and thought he had a readymade plot device at his fingertips. The character motivations and the solving of the crime are pedestrian and cliché too. In fact, having Debby use her psychic powers to help Maschen solve the crime comes off as a lazy thinking. Rather than going through the trouble of conducting an investigation and holding a trial, it’s just easier to have a psychic do all the work. The literary realization is less than spectacular in the end.

But what about the moral underpinning of the story? I would argue that it is the strongest point of the book. Garnna lives in a society that is peaceful, meaningful, and socially fulfilling but it is also massively conformist and rigidly authoritarian. His desire to help another herd, the human herd of the hippy commune, leads him to a higher moral calling and the realization that all living creatures are equal and should be treated as such. Helping another community in need is part of this vision, even if it does not bring any gain to whoever does the helping. Herds obviously does not sufficiently exhaust any discussion on this ethical issue, one which has been debated by philosophers from day one, but it does an excellent job of introducing the concept and encouraging further examination.

Herds is not a great book, but as a product of its time, being the 1970s, it is a bit of a curiosity. Its strengths and its flaws run along parallel lines, making it readable but not particularly mind-expanding. It probably works best as a book for younger readers while also being too dated for them to see its historical context. I wouldn’t go far out of my way to find a copy of Herds, but if you see it around somewhere at a reasonable price and have a taste for exploring lesser-known works of fiction, it is worth picking up.

[bloodiedmedic]

“So, Alexis.” Silco paused in the wake of his steps, whilst his hands clasped behind his back. The man's head tilted, oh so slightly, as eyes narrowed. “Since you now have to tell nothing but the truth, I wanted to personally seek you out.”

It was true- Silco wasn't the one to normally inquire prompts with other muses. However, due to the fact he had some ideas in mind for the person before him, he had to show up himself and ask, in case his own mun decided against it to tell him.

A small, ghostly smile curled on hardened features, letting out a small huff before his head straightened again. As his chin tilted, his eyes seemed to flicker with a certain light. “Tell me why you enjoy torturing people.” He raised his hand, in ways to stop the other in case they wanted to speak already. “Most people feel guilt, or 'try' not to be that person. But, why? Why not embrace that part?” He lowered his hand again to his back, taking another step forward.

“So, tell me. Tell me what goes through your mind, and what you feel when you dissect someone.”

((You know what I'm not putting this under a cut, but I will toss content warnings out there. Addiction, blood, mention of gore and violence and murder and dissection of people. A potential serial killer talking about the ecstacy of taking someone apart. There is nothing nice here.))

They had been in a small infirmary cleaning some things up, and sterilizing other things when Silco had shown up. The moment he’d said “the truth” and “personally seek you out” their shoulders had tensed, and their lips tightened. Alexis was under no illusions as to who they worked for, or what he was capable of. There was no chance at all that this would be some casual question to be chuckled at, and they doubted it’d be something merely “mildly” intrusive. Of course they were unfortunately correct.

Staring at him with a gleam of something akin to rage in their eyes Alexis had gone utterly still watching Silco take a step forward. In that moment they wanted to slit his throat. Of course he’d asked the question they least wanted to answer. One brief second had their mind flood with images of Silco laid out on the floor screaming under their tender attentions. Him… him they’d allow a voice. Of course that’d simply end with them dead be it by Sevika, or Jinx, or someone else and so they blinked. “I do try not to be that person.” Voice quiet and dead flat there was no sign at all of what they’d just been imagining, but it’d be easy to tell this was a question that made them distinctly uncomfortable.

“I’ll assume you mean after I’ve been driven to the point I stop fighting my urges, my desire… my addiction, and I simply throw myself into the moment.” Reaching up Alexis took off their glasses folding them before turning them over. “You know I don’t actually need these. My eyesight is perfectly fine. These don’t even have a prescription, but the weight of them on my face helps keep me focused.” Casually they tossed them to one side landing them on a pile of cloth and bandages. “What do I feel?” Stepping in Alexis had no qualms about getting in Silco’s personal space. Not after the question he’d just offered.

“Ecstasy. Power. Revenge. Every time I torture and dissect a living person I teach someone else what it means to be a victim, and a prey thing whimpering and helpless. I take the weakness I have, and the times I was made a victim and all of that pain and I shove it into someone else. I call it an addiction because deep down inside I always have that desire. To slice someone open and for a few glorious moments take myself outside of this bullshit power structure in Zaun, and take my power back. It’s an addiction because I feel so fucking good afterwards, and regardless of what guilt or shame or anything else that follows afterwards I can never forget how. Good. It felt. I’ve used shimmer, and alcohol, and sex, and none of it compares to that ecstasy of having my hands deep in someone's body as they are utterly helpless and can still feel it.” Shaking their head there was a little tremble that went through their body as the thought of it, and the memory made their eyes light up a bit and a particular little smile flicker across their face. The smile of a predator who tried to often to hide what lay beneath the surface, but push come to shove in the moment they struck loved every last second of it.

“Everything is about sex except for sex, and sex is about power. When my hands are squeezing at someone's organs, and coated in blood and their body is twitching and they are helpless and I can do whatever I want to them? That’s the purest kind of sex there is. How could you ever possibly come closer to being intimate with someone than when you are literally reaching into their body to feel those parts of them that no one else will ever get to touch? It’s like being a god.”

Taking a long slow deep breath they finally stepped back turning to pick their glasses back up. “And there’s not a moment I don’t hate myself for that, or fear loosing myself to that… now if you please. I have work to do.”

Softly they murmured trying to keep it unheard but with how badly they suddenly hungered there was no guarantee they’d succeed. “Wolf and Lamb, takers of all, please, grant me a moment of peace and give me the strength to be better than I am.”

[greshamconcretecontractor]

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[knowlesian]

from a post finale haze i bring you: deeply disorganized thoughts about jim/olu, more or less centered around e7 but we all saw that finale. you all understand why i got three and a half hours of sleep. complaints about any interpretive jazz-esque sentence structure can be tied to the leg of a magical seagull and sent direct to david jenkins himself as he is to blame.

- why not start at the obvious thing right off the top: they nearly kissed, team. WE ALMOST HAD IT. olu leaned in. jim leaned back. the space between their beautiful wonderful faces was ALMOST. GONE.

it’s such a great mutual approach, too. jim’s smirk morphs into staring and then olu moves closer and jim moves closer still and they are SO IN SYNC. they have only been a team for a year and olu just found out jim’s favorite color like an hour ago, but they are a goddamned perfectly functioning unit.

- which makes me go back to the scene where olu gets to hang out in the house and nana says she likes olu and asks if he’s jim’s husband. there’s such a great rapport between the two of them right there! after jim notably doesn’t say no (and neither does olu! he just looks pleased) and they have this soft eye exchange of ‘seriously???’/’what, i’m just having fun!’ jim sort of... softens as nana goes to look outside at jim’s found idiot family they dragged back home with them and i think a lot of it is because jim did find a home with these big ol’ dopes and they’re fond of the whole lot of them.

but the rest i would argue has a lot to do with how well olu fits into this side of jim’s life, too. the crew is outside, walls still between them and jim: olu is in the house. they didn’t want to go home and face the proverbial music, sure, but i think there’s a piece there where jim was afraid bringing olu to see nana would break the spell, and instead olu is happily getting along with everybody’s favorite murdernun and sitting at the table easy as you please and that opens the avenue that this thing with olu could be for real and for keeps.

- which makes me wonder: is this a story where jim’s favorite color is teal because olu’s earring is teal, or is this a story where the day they met jim met a beautiful man with kind eyes who already wore their favorite color? (or is this a story where jim met a man with a different earring and they bought that one for olu because they wanted to see him in their favorite color goddamnit now i’m having feelings at the mere potential.)

- extra shoutout to the way olu calls out “JIM. YOU DID NOT DO ENOUGH MURDER, MY SOUL BLEEDS WITH DISAPPOINTMENT IN YOU” was a damaging interaction for jim. we love a ride or die bitch, especially when they have kind eyes and hilarious line delivery.

- which brings me to: “if you wanted... i could be family”. pain. sheer beautiful pain. not erasing what came before, but adding to; nana is Part of You, but i could be yours as well. it’s so, so sweet and supportive and then the way jim RESPONDS. the acting on this show, i’m mad about it and i’m gonna die mad about it. jim’s gaze flicks away but then we are BACK, THERE IS A SLIGHT GRIN. A LEGIT GRIN. and then that glorious mutual approach i already yelled about.

- and because i didn’t mention it above, the little “holy shit, we almost kissed! wow, huh?” look they share after stede rolls up to ruin the moment. SO CUTE.

- which brings me to the goodbye, where olu doesn’t try to talk jim out of it just supports their choices and makes it clear olu remains a safe place to land, no matter what. he gives them this little adorable almost hug and then: the hat slap.

i am obsessed with this little motion. it’s fucking adorable, first off, but it’s also possibly the physical manifestation of why this ship has burrowed into my heart and made its home there.

like: we know jim trusts olu. they allowed olu to watch their back and even speak for them before they found their own voice as jim. i know there’s an in-world reason for that, but the METAPHOR. i wanna eat it like izzy ate his own toe. when jim couldn’t raise their voice, they trusted olu to have the right words.

add to that olu knows jim is scary! he just got finished telling nana he watched the revenge murder go down and honest, it was super vengeful. no notes, shocked faces all around. (sidenote: i want to know how that all happened. did olu know shit was gonna go down or just help jim get out of dodge after? probably that last one, but inquiring minds!)  

the point is that olu knows who jim is in their entirety, from the revenge thriller canon they were born into and the muppet hijinks they have now embraced. and olu still slaps the brim of jim’s hat because just like he’s a safe space for jim, they’re a safe place for olu.

- i can’t wait for olu’s backstory. i will ASCEND. i need it. jim clearly fills a hole in his heart and i want to know e v e r y t h i n g. i need to see how they met. EVERYTHING.

- and finally, because it doesn’t fit anywhere else but i want to add it: if i’m going with the grand unifying theory of jim following The Call to Muppet while izzy does not that makes the way they handle lucius in e3 extra hilarious. that is a muppet-ass plan if i have ever seen one!!!! and in a muppet movie somebody could survive being chucked over the side in a box/footlocker/whatever that was by simply floating to the nearest island, i’m js. (yes i’m a lucius lives truther, now and forever. IN A MUPPET MOVIE, YOU LIVE. THE END.)

[namgee]

cry baby | jjk (m)

❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f) ❥genre: smut, pwp, fwb au, university au (barely lol), fluff, 18+ ❥word count: 16.7k  ❥summary:

Jeon Jungkook [Jeon Jeong-gug] noun

1. The friendly (and hot) employee at your local roller rink. 2. Your friend with benefits of 3 months. 3. Someone who’s currently pissed at you for not casting your decisive vote on him in the disco rollerskating contest at his workplace. 4. A vengeful man determined on using his best assets to make you cry.

❥warnings: alcohol, cunnilingus, blowjob, deep throating, slight dom jungkook (?), tattooed jk (that I didn’t mention enough tbh 😩), fingering, rough sex, some overstimulation, some slight edging some spanking, biting (this could have been written as a vampire au lol), light exhibitionism, sex in public places,  reader gives a lot of looks 👀 (let me know if I forgot something) ❥a/n: this story jumps time a bit at the start I actually got confused with the tense since I’m so used to writing in the present tense, hopefully it’s not too confusing and doesn’t mess with the flow of the story, i was trying two new things with this story : writing smut and exploring new story structure, sorry for any spelling mistakes 🥺. any feedback is appreciated ;)) btw the title was inspired by the movie cause jungkook’s looks for the dicon shoot fit it to the T. ❥taglist: @min-nicoleee​ @jeonsjiddies​ @ggukkieland​ 

You really like fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

He is made of just the right ratio of hardness and softness. You can simultaneously take an impromptu seat on the set of hard thighs that made for an irresistible lap. Thighs that still manage to mold themselves into the perfect weapon to attack the ever growing heat in your center. It’s precisely because of how much you like being confined under his heaving torso in the darkness of the night or the crack of dawn that you loved to stir his competitive spirit. 

Jungkook has been working at Diane’s Rink since his sophomore year of high school. Now two years into college and very capable of finding a better paying job he still chooses to remain an employee. The boss, Diane Berry, knows very well about the positive impact his presence has on her business, so she decided long ago to give him some perks apart from the bonus that grows for every year he remained an employee.  

One of the perks is allowing him, as staff, to participate in events held by the rink. From there on Jungkook has won the annual disco roller skating championship “Disco Craze” for four years in a row! A fit that he deserves, he is a great skater after all. 

A year ago you had moved from out of town to attend college. During your minimal sightseeing you come across a poster for the rink and its annual championship at the town hall. It turned out a friend of your roommate, Kyra, was a frequent visitor and was going to participate. 

On a chilly autumn day, the three of you headed to the rink itching for any kind of entertainment. Upon entering, the atmosphere was bubbling, strobe lights colouring smiling faces, people were gathered around the rink already cheering even though the competition wasn’t supposed to start for another fifteen minutes.

However, the minute you caught sight of what they were all looking at, an understanding nod was all you could give. Right there in the middle of the rink, the body of a well-shaped man clad with snug flare jeans skated effortlessly around as he swept the floor. You watched for a while as he moved around sweeping the same area a total of three times. Wow, he must really love the attention.

The competition started soon after you managed to get some snacks. Everyone clapped as the contestants entered the rink and lined themselves up for presentation. You were close to the rink ready to see it all when the real snack took the stage. 

Your roommate’s friend happened to be good, so good he managed to make you snatch your prying eyes away from “Mr. Swipe the Floor” for a good amount of time. Your attention was however brought back by the matter at hand as the sight of the most perfectly shaped globes of rear meat wrapped in a thin coat of denim passed by your eyes and you felt the urge to tap in. 

His performance on the rink, as if he was born in skates, didn’t help the matter at hand. Just like that, as if you were a primal woman hunting for a suiting partner and he was unaware of performing a nuptial dance, you made your mind then and there to somehow before the time you finish your education have him sweep something else other than the skating floor.

Everyone needs something to motivate them to keep going. Unfortunately for you, after that momentary day there weren’t many opportunities for you to go to attack. You can’t lie, you felt slightly guilty going after an oblivious prey, not that he looked like a prey. However, unknowing to you, your catch would lead to a drastic shift in your roles.

After a couple of months an opportunity finally presented itself. It was a Friday, the day after the fall midterm exam, and it was party time. Knowing fully well that his party royalty friends would drag him there, you figured you should go and try your luck. 

Somehow between finding out Kyra is a hardcore partygoer and getting lost in the enticing swing of the music you forgot about your primary mission. But a quick trip to the restroom, one which forced you to pass dozens of bodies plastered to the wall in pairs of two made sure to remind you of the night’s purpose. 

You searched around for him, a harder task than you had expected as people flocked around him and his friend group. You cursed yourself for the misfortune of having your eyes set on the popular boy with slick hair that’s otherwise hanging in loose waves, tucked behind his ears or in a bun. But it was too late then, you wanted something, someone and you were out to get it. 

In your moment of extreme strength and confidence, all of which were fuelled by Kyra’s weird and possibly slightly poisoning alcohol blend, you gave your best (and thankfully only) shot. Your eyes zeroed in on the man who you had come to know as Jungkook as he continued to socialise with his group of friends. 

The distance between the two of you wasn’t big (you had after all been creeping for most of the night) and no one was exactly looking at you, yet you put on your best stance and strutted confidently towards him. You had talked to Jungkook before for a grand total of two times, both of those instances were in class, so it technically didn’t count. As you approached the large group of people, shivers travelled up your spine at the sight of yet another snug pair of pants paired with a belt that accentuated his waist.

Just for a second you felt jealous and a bit insecure as you stared down at your own form. However, drunk you couldn’t keep her mind one thing for too long unless it was Jeon Jungkook (and some other miscellaneous but important things). The Jungkook that was looking at you as you lifted your head back up. 

FUCK.

You had imagined the first time you caught him looking at you to be very different. You were supposed to look confident, disinterested but still somehow soft. You thought that in some way, because women are amazing, you would have figured out how to make it all work.

Yet there you were looking back, gaze wavering to let yourself catch a breath. You were one hundred percent sure he was making you more intoxicated than whatever it was you drank. 

It was the forehead exposure, coupled with a sweet looking, curious puppy dog face that really made you realise you were fucked and you really wanted to get fucked. That day was your lucky day, maybe he had been  looking for a charity case. Jungkook’s eyes kept trailing past your tight fitting crop top to your fidgeting legs as you curved his group of friends and headed back the way you had come. The drink you had taken in the name of liquid courage had done absolutely nothing to help, but that time you didn’t mind, he had done exactly what you wanted without any prompting from your end. 

Your legs shuffled quickly away from them, crossing your fingers (in your mind of course), hoping his experience with the ladies made the message clear. You walked far enough to see Kyra’s reappearing form and still no sign of Jungkook anywhere near you. Maybe he wasn’t as intuitive as you had thought him to be. Or he was just playing with you the same way you would want to play with him, back and forth to see who would cave in first. 

Your chest deflated the closer you got to Kyra and you didn’t understand the enthusiastic smile she threw your way as she turned her back to you. Hmmm, okay, you guessed that was her way of cheering a friend up. You got near enough to whisper-yell at her about your debacle, but a smooth criminal wannabe named Jungkook got in between and you don’t think you had been any more happy in your life. 

“Thank god,” you whispered to yourself, pussy clenching right back up at the close up sight of his slick hair, the dizzying scent of his surprisingly sweet smelling perfume filling your nose as you attempted to discreetly inhale it all in, only to let out a loud sigh that bordered on a moan. 

“What’s your name?” He asked softly, eyes shifting to your feet to watch you take a small step back. You told yourself you moved to get a better look at him, to be able to be in control, enough to gauge the situation. You and him both knew it was a lie. You lost your footing at the sight of him and the creeping smirk on his lips which his teeth tried to fight away did more than just show his satisfaction.

But now that you were the tiniest bit farther away from him, you made the bold choice of looking up at him. He was still staring at you, everywhere. Face, cleavage, legs, the hands that toyed with the fabric of your pants. All you managed to catch, now that he was that much closer to you, closer than he had ever been and yet it didn’t feel close enough, was the glorious undercut on his head. If you didn’t want to fuck him before, now you definitely do.

He waved a hand in front of your face? Your eyes bulged. “What?” You sounded like a dumbass.

“Your name?” His head leaned closer into your space and your hand awkwardly traveled to swipe past your nose, hoping it was enough protection from his very conscious attack. 

“Hmm right… Y/N.” You gave him a strained smile. You were really straining after all, straining to keep yourself from jumping him in the middle of a room full with people. 

“I’ve seen you at Diane’s Rink before, do you skate?” 

Jungkook was making small talk with you and you never thought you would ever think this but it was weird. Though you couldn’t  control the way your heart skipped at the fact that he had noticed you before. 

“No. I don’t skate. I’m just there because my roommate's friend skates a lot, she introduced me to the place and you know, I thought why not. So like I end up going there whenever, I don’t have specific days or anything, yeah… I just think it’s a dope place to be at. Roller skating is fun and Diane’s Rink is just the right place to do that… yeah but as I said I don’t really skate…” If the amount of finger snaps, lip smacks, and shoulder shrugs inserted in between your reply wasn’t embarrassing enough, the weird skating motion you did with your body took the cake. 

But even through all of that, he chuckled. He chuckled loud enough for you to see his chest vibrate as the skin beside his eyes and nose scrunch up cutely. How? You swear you could have fried eggs on him just a minute ago (yes that’s how hot he was) and now this. Jungkook was already asking too much of your body  and you hadn’t even gotten in his pants yet. He let his soft chuckle die out, head hanging low along with his hair and decided it was time for you to die as he faced your gaze again, tattooed hand brushing through his hair as a full-blown smile adorned his mischievous expression.

Your Jungkook induced trance was broken for a second as you registered the quick floundering of someone’s hand behind him. Kyra’s hand. She made small hearts in front of her eyes only to make a cross with her arms. You gave her a pleading look. You guess it wasn’t enough for Jungkook to ask much of you but then your roommate wanted you to spare the little self control you had left to suppress your full blown heart eyes for a man and his skin tight leather pants.

You bit the inside of your cheek in hopes it would do something to bring your sanity back, anything. Jungkook’s right hand left his jacket pocket as he extended the tattooed hand your way, “You’re cute. By the way, I’m Jungkook.”

No. No. No! Wrong! He was lucky you already knew his name, how the heck did he expect someone to hear anything he says after he calls them cute, big gentle eyes looking at you. Also, have scientists yet to discover extra nerve endings on people’s hands because you’re sure a handshake wasn’t supposed to feel that good and warm. 

You stared at the way his hand surrounded your own. You were barely putting any strength into it (not that you had any). It was all too much for you and you snatched your hand away, shaking it as if you had just touched a hot pan. Now the whole of you had warmed up to an extra degree. 

“I’m going to get us some drinks. Would you like that?” You didn’t  give him any time to properly answer before you were  sprinting past his frame to grab onto Kyra’s arm as you pulled her to wherever the alcohol was. You turned a corner and found a safe place for the two of you to chat.

“Kyra it’s bad. Like really bad,” you whisper-yelled. “He’s all unaffected, making small talk for some weird reason and standing so close I almost, no I actually forget my own name. You know what, maybe I’m trying to catch a fish that’s just too big. I don’t think I’m ready to play with him yet. I should work my way up to the big boss, don’t you think? Maybe start with some hot dude from the sports department then someone from the arts department and then Jungkook from the science department. That’s a foolproof plan. What do you think?” You paced around her, sporting a convincing voice hoping that it was enough to fool your brain into downgrading its desires for a while cause your heart just wasn’t ready for him yet. 

“Hey!” Kyra slapped your arm. “It’s been what? 6, 7, 8 months of you thirsting after a man. Today it ends, my friend. I don’t care! You’re fucking Jeon Jungkook tonight. If that’s the only way for you to get it out of your system so you can notice all the other much better guys you could choose from if you want to have a meaningful and lasting relationship, then my sole mission today is to get his dick into your hole before this party ends.”

You gave her a side eye for her constant critique of your attraction to Jungkook. It is ninety percent physical but you had been around at the rink (only on the days he had a shift of course) to notice another side of him responsible for the growing ten percent of your attraction. But you would never tell that to Kyra. 

“Fine… but like, what do I do? Everything that comes out of my mouth is weird shit or tmi and I’m just flustered okay.” 

“Then don’t talk. Go back in there, give the drink you said you were getting–”

“You were eavesdropping on us?” Your incredulous voice didn’t  even faze her. She just gave you a ‘really?’ look and you put your hands up in surrender.

“Hmm where was I? Right!” She snapped her fingers, “Take him to the dance floor, back it up on him, get him hard, then move away from the crowd a bit and pounce!” She gave you her drink for prep,“From there everything should just progress naturally, maybe y’all will start with a couch make out sesh or just jump directly to the wall one and then find some cramped up place to bone it out, maybe if you’re lucky you will find an empty room.” 

You stared at her, chewing your lips.

“You can do this!” Kyra said, each hand on your respective arms as she gave you a hard stare. “Today, the thirsting ends. Okay, now go get the drinks” She shooed you away. 

“Right, right. I can do this” You pumped yourself up as if you were prepping for a boxing round and honestly it wasn’t too far from the truth with the way his whole presence was making your heart hammer against your chest. 

One drink in each hand you made it back to your spot, surprised and flattered that he stayed put but still nervous for what was to come. You reached out to give him a cup, the hand contact almost making you drop it.

“Hmm, sorry about earlier. I’m just you know, nervous.” You drank from your cup.

“Nervous, why?”

Kyra said no talking.

“Wanna dance?” You asked pointing to the crowd, completely ignoring his question. He shrugged his shoulder, taking a sip from his drink while squinting his eyes at you. He was feeling slightly confused by your behaviour. “Sure, why not?”

You chugged the remaining liquid in your cup, squirmed at the strength of the alcohol and made your first bold move by grabbing his open jacket and pulling him into the hot and sweaty crowd. You took a quick look at him before you did anything else and you were more than pleased to notice that he was patiently waiting for you to do something. 

The drink, the sight of him, the heat in the room and in your core. It was all getting to you and you really wanted to see the arms with which he swipes the rink clean. His muscles were always straining against the black polo shirt he wears during his shifts. But that day he was sporting a white tee under the jacket and you wanted to see and feel them. 

You turned around and lifted your hands to place them behind his shoulders, in his jacket and pushed it off, staring at the ground. “You know, if you’re going to undress me in public you could at least look me in the eye.” You took a deep breath and did just that, slipping the remainder of his jacket off his forearms . “That wasn’t so hard, now was it darling.” He gave you a looped-sided grin.

You were so turned on and yet you chuckled at the pet name. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t quite like it, yet. It would have sounded much better coming from him in a gruff voice, with you placed under him taking all of him as an endless stream of moans fell out of your mouth. You needed to take another deep breath at the thought of that, hands clenching around the rough fabric of his jacket as your thighs rubbed together to get yourself under control.

“You good there darling. There’s shivers on your arms.” He pointed at you, tongue wetting his lips. 

Your head snapped down to see that he was right. You rubbed your arms as fast as you could. “Let me try,” his hands replaced yours. Safe to say it didn’t help as you shivered more under his touch wishing the floor would swallow you whole. The way you reacted to the absolute minimum when it came to him was getting embarrassing. “Okay, so maybe that didn’t help,” he said and it was time for you to give a side eye, to which he chuckled, again.

Instead he brought up the jacket in your hands and dressed you in his clothes. It was way too big, but it was warm and the smell of him warded off all the sweat odour from the dance floor. You slapped your thigh, you really needed to focus. The steps were: back it up → make him hard → make out session →  his dick in your hole. It was action time, baby!

You were then staring at the glory that was his chest, oscillating softly under the thin fabric of his tee and your hands ran down his arms, quick after you turned around pulling him closer unfortunately missing the sight of him shivering beneath your trailing fingers.

Your back was glued against the rigid surface of his chest as you went to town, swaying to the beat, your swiftness must have been impressive enough for him to emit a soft whistle. You did your best to suppress the proud smile forming on your lips. You kept at it, hand occasionally reaching back to rub at the back of his hair, only for him to huff and sigh in your ear prompting you to rub your hips further into his. 

It wasn’t long before he was looking for more. His flexed arms caged you, as his right hand ran down your stomach to grip at your thigh just as the other hand kept a tight hold of your hip. You whimpered at his touch, chest caving inwards as your thighs attempted to shut themselves even closer pushing your butt further into his crotch for you to feel it. Strong and prominent. Jungkook hunched over, out of courtesy you thought but you pulled back to continue your tempting ministrations. The shame was gone, all you wanted was for him to feel you up. 

You placed both hands behind his neck, caressing his skin and hair, rolling your hips against his even harder when the bass drops. “Ahhh,” Jungkook hissed into your neck before biting it, making you sight in response to the tightening of his grip. You could have remained pressed against him letting the heat of his chest radiate into you all day, all night frankly, but you wanted more. 

Reluctantly prying yourself off his hands you turned around to face him. His gaze was hooded, lips were parted, hair disheveled from your hands, chest oscillating faster than before and you thought you detected the smallest flush on his cheeks despite the darkness of the room. 

You pulled him back closer. He was really close now. Hard chest grazing hard nipples, anxious hands positioning themselves on his biceps as he rested his hands on your hips. You were really about to do it. Your hands travelled upwards to lock behind his head as he hunched down, hair falling in front of his eyes and his hands brought your chest closer. The way he tightened his hold around your torso, fingertips grazing your sides softly had you smiling into the kiss. 

It all felt too good, and if you hadn’t been sure before, you were then 100 percent convinced you’re not going to get over Jungkook’s lips anytime soon. That one night would definitely not be enough. You were so fucked!

Jungkook was hungry for more contact, hands travelling south to get a generous feel of your ass, he broke the kiss cutting off your soft moans to look into your eyes, a smirk on his lips, “Baby got back.” He slapped your right cheek, and you shrieked only to sink back into moaning as he rubbed the sting away. 

Before he gave it another try you pulled his head down, opening up your mouth to let him explore another part of you. The strong alcohol mix blended between your tongues, as your hands pulled the back of his t-shirt to somehow get him closer. Jungkook chuckled into your kiss and all you did was mumble a disfigured “What?!” 

“Nothing,” he whispered as he lifted you up and away from the dance floor. “I just think–” peck, “it’s time we find–” peck, “another place to continue this–” peck. The domesticity of it all, despite the environment, left you stunned, cheeks warming up considerably and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of his neck. You liked it, in fact you liked it a little bit too much. 

Jungkook might have wanted to give you the lovey-dovey scenario but the truth was you were at a college party, bumping with sweaty bodies on the way to find some privacy, half drunkenly tripping over littered staircases was what you needed to get through. Which you did with the help of a strong hand grabbing onto the hem of his t-shirt as you attempted to navigate the dimly lit apartment. 

“Hey, hey, slow down there,” Jungkook sounded behind you as he pointed to a room that just then became vacant when two ruffled figures pursued a silent retreat from it. Though the last thing you wanted to do was slow down. You shuffled back and into the space. 

The room was hot, smelled of sex and alcohol and the bed sheets were a mess. Jungkook threw a calculating eye towards the bed.

“Under the sheets?”

“Under the sheets,” you answered as you helped him discard the duvet. 

“You really want to take the risk?” He asked, pointing back at the door as he walked to your side of the bed. The right side.

You thought it through in your head. The worst thing that could happen was someone walking in while Jungkook’s is balls deep in you. The best thing that could happen was Jungkook being balls deep in you. Also maybe the worst thing wasn’t t that bad after all, you thought as the thought of someone seeing Jungkook fuck you shoot a shiver up your legs and into your pussy. 

“Uh huh,” you answered, breathless and squirming when his hands dove into the back of your crop top and his teeth nibbled at the exposed skin of your cleavage. “God..hmm, fuck,” he moaned into your skin making it even hotter as you ground your dripping center against his groin and your hands pulled his slick and soft hair to keep yourself from melting into a puddle.

“Please touch me.” 

Your voice was barely audible in between your whimpers. Jungkook’s hands slid down your back to sprawl his big palms on your ass as he controlled your grinding, looking into your eyes. You couldn’t keep them open, not that you needed them to decipher his eagerness. If the soft moans, the big hands and the biting weren’t enough to let you know exactly how he was feeling, his dick was more than glad to help as it grew stiffer by the minute, grazing harder and harder against your drenching heat. 

Did you love the way his hands glided over your heated skin, seemingly setting it on fire as he kneaded it every chance he got? Yes! But you wanted him to touch you elsewhere.

“Plea—ah, touch m—oh.”

Jungkook kept showing you that there were more ways to use his mouth. He had kissed and bit you but nothing could have prepared you for his sucking. Somehow while you were busy craving for his touch, he had undone your bra and discarded it somewhere and now he had his warm and wet mouth around your sensitive mound as his hand massaged the other. His hot tongue swept over the thin fabric covering your nipple, biting the erect tip only for you to whine and squirm at the loss of contact with his cock. 

He took his time, enough for sweat beads to form along your hairline. You whined, pushing yourself against any surface of him within your reach. You could have been vocal about wanting to feel him on you, skin burning against yours, to feel him in you, his strong appendage exploring your heat. Yet you kept your mouth shut for fear of the sound that might leave you

Jungkook gave your breast a particularly hard bite before your hand slid from your hair past your slippery chest to hold onto his slick locks. Your uncontrolled, whiny moans didn’t seem to do much to change Jungkook’s speed. Somehow, his exploration of your breasts became even more languid, lending enough time for your breaths to become synchronized. 

His tongue trailed its way back up to graze your slack jaw as your eager hands latched on the thin fabric of his t-shirt to push him down onto the bed. That seemed to bring him back to reality, glazed eyes staring right at you. Jungkook thought that you wanted it to be a two-way street, not just him pleasuring you but you him. However his jittery leg couldn't’’t help but show his eagerness to try out whatever it is that he had in mind.

“So….” He exhaled, breathing slowly going back to normal.

You started a bit longer at him, after all, this wasn’t about Jungkook getting his fill, it was about you getting yours. You were the one who had been fantasizing about this for an unhealthy amount of time. So truthfully, you weren’t looking for a two-way street. You wanted something else. “I want to use you.” At that his leg stopped bouncing. 

Maybe you knew a lot less about Jungkook that you thought. At the sight of his rippling muscles removing his t-shirt the “keep your mouth closed” rule you had imposed on yourself flew out of the window. Your shining eyes gained a chuckle. “You look like a kid in a candy story,” he said while he crossed his arms hoping his bulging biceps would divert your attention from another straining part of him. Jungkook deducted that you liked to watch as your teeth abused your lips, to let your eyes run past his tooth-rothening sweet expression to his broad shoulders that were slightly red from your previous eagerness, down his chest to his happy trail and equality happy dick. 

He was right, you liked watching, but not just watching anyone, watching him. You were finally getting front row, uncensored material to fill all the previous fantasies you had had of him at night, in the morning, in class, at the rink, anywhere really. 

You dropped to your knees, ass on your feet, as your hands ran down his thighs to feel them clench under your touch, “Don’t worry I’m not too much of a kid, I won’t take too much and leave you dry,” you said, floundering hands reaching for his zipper. Jungkook made it easier for you, spreading his legs to let you closer into his space. 

You couldn’t help but stare at the bulge in front of you only to shy away and stare at the floor, You took an apprehensive look at Jungkook whose lips were slightly parted, eyes soft, waiting for you. For someone who was just having a quick fling he was weirdly patient and understanding. “Sorry for staring,” you whispered, undoing the zipper and reaching behind as he lifted his hips from the bed for you to pull his pants and underwear down his ass. A soft grunt escaped his lips as your finger grazed the flesh of his toned ass.“As long as you’re not disgusted. If anything I’m flattered.” He smiled down at you.  

He spread his thighs wider, allowing you a full view of his veiny up-curved cock, rushing blood tainting the tip an angry red. Now he was showing off, to which you threw him a sly smile which he returned with a wink as you shook your head, hand reaching for the alluring throbbing length. At your touch you heard a sharp intake of air above you, you gave a tentative lick to his tip receiving a slight jolt. 

You had gotten so far, yet the prospect of having Jungkook staring at you as you blew him off had you shy. With a gentle hand to his hard chest you prompted him to lay down on the bed. “Stay down,” you breathed against his dick. “Unfai–ahhh” he didn’t get to finish his protest as you enveloped your warm mouth around his thick tip, swirling it around as the salty taste of precum coated your tongue and an involuntary hum of approval reverberated in your chest. Yeah this was worth it, you thought as you plunged more of him into your mouth to his approving groans. “Fuck, oh, you feel so good.” You didn’t think of yourself as having much of a praising kink, but the praise coming from him with a throaty voice in between his gasps, had your pride swelling along with his cock. 

Your head bobbed up and down his hard shaft, saliva coating the surface generously as your hand twists around his length. A particularly good suck of your mouth on his cock had Jungkook’s thighs clenching around your frame, a hand rooting itself on your hair. “Yeah, right there. Fuck.” You repeated the same movement whining at his tightening grip.”Sh–agh I’m gonna cum soon if yo– oh fuck you’re too go–” Your thighs were clenched tightly around your heated core, your other hand gripping onto one of Jungkook’s shivering thighs. You were really doing it. Feeling the weight of him on your tongue, pushing back and sucking him further down your throat. The rush of glee in your body was unavoidable.

You pulled through, opening your aching jaw further as you pumped more of him into your mouth, tongue fully stretched letting his mouth watering cock be embraced by the constricted walls of your throat. The instance he felt the effect of the depth of your throat, your nails plunging into the skin of his thighs for added intensity, Jungkook couldn’t keep himself down anymore. He heaved his clenching torso back up to a seated position at the sound of your gags. They resounded loud enough to drown his discombobulated mix of heavy sighs and groans, yet he wished he could swap the backdrop electronic music for the slippery and choked out sounds being emitted from your warm throat. 

“Hey hey hey, slow down or I’m gonna cum in your mouth,” he said in a rushed voice as you relentlessly continued your attack on him, keeping your promise of using him. 

When words didn’t seem to be getting to you, he attempted to yank your head back a bit but you stayed rooted, throat somehow engulfing him deeper as the strong command of his arm flattered against your ministrations and had him bucking his hips upwards. You choked on his length, landing a warning slap to his thigh which didn't seem to help other than encourage Jungkook’s inevitable descent into a whining mess. “Oh-h sh-it, fuck me.” His stuttering breaths along with the scent of him as your nose touched the base of his cock had you dizzy and dripping wet, nails scratching his skin meanwhile tears coated your hot cheeks. When you were done with him you were sure he would file an animal complaint report. You weren’t exactly trying very hard not to mark him.

Despite your aching throat and jaw, you resolved to take him deep one last time. But that seemed to be one last time too many as the hot exhale of Jungkook’s breaths further warmed your forehead and he buckled forward from the pleasure. His O-shaped mouth connected with the top of your head whilst he defiled your throat and mumbled curses through gritted teeth. 

Your worn out mouth retracted to give place for your arms to do the finishing work. Before you could pick up the speed, Jungkook’s mouth found your abused lips, tongue probing your entrance to lap up at the excess saliva, sighing softly into the kiss. The hand in your hair kept you rooted in the racking of his teeth against your lips and for a second you thought of letting him use you too. That was until you gave him a small bite of your own and felt him twitch in your hand. Your other hand wrapped around his wrist to remove his hold on you as you tore your lips off of his just to stare at his hooded eyes. 

“I’m supposed to be using you Jeon.” Your hands resumed their work on his cock, welcoming back the straining breaths of the godly man seated in front of you. He was leaning back on his arm as his other hand latched onto his sweaty hair, trying to anchor the sanity that threatened to leave him at the sight of you working on him so diligently. A sight that would remain ingrained in his mind for a very long time. You made sure of it. “Oh, I’m close,” he slurred.

You stuck your tongue out, “Woah really, you’re sure about it?” He might have sounded concerned but you could still manage to see the glint in his sweaty expression. He wanted it. So you played along, “Jungkook pleaseeee,” you whined head moving closer to his flushed cock. You left the rest to him, watching as his fingers fluttered around his length to form a strong hold as he pumped himself with your saliva past his edge. “A–A– Ahhh hmmm, oh fuck.” White warm stripes of salty cum landed on your tongue at the same time that you watched the satisfying decoration of tightly knitted brows, eyes shut tight and bottom lip caught between his teeth on his face following his hurried release. 

You pushed your ass off your feet to stand back up and Jungkook met you, standing tall, hands as eager as ever as they wrapped around your form. You shivered at the graze of your nipples against his taut chest. Jungkook went on to leave even more marks on your skin, teeth grazing and nipping your flesh between the wet trail of soft kisses he made sure to leave before his mouth reached the sensitive shell of your ear. “Thank you,”he whispered and you almost laughed out loud but managed to keep under control. “I wasn’t doing you a favour, Jeon. I’ve wanted to suck your dick for a while now. So really, I should be the one saying thank you.” 

Your hands traveled down his back as you placed your head in the crook of his neck to give him some of your own marks, except a lot less delicate which you could tell by the way he squeezed you tighter. 

You let your arm travel in between your bodies to wrap around his neck as your other arm took it upon itself to get him ready for another round. The most important one. Your fingers played with the strong raven strands on his head earning approving hums from his broad chest. With calm strokes to his member you felt him hardening. But Jungkook also wanted his fun so with two hands of his own he undid the measly buttons of your pants. It was either he was somehow good at undoing buttons while pressed against someone or he just had a lot of experience, but Jungkook did not tear his eyes away from yours. You stroked him harder, pulling soft, strained yet compelling reactions from him, his hot breath fanning your face in the time that you felt the weight of his forehead against yours. 

Addicted to the feeling of your hands on him, he let you fondle with him a bit longer instead choosing to play with the softness of your ass. His hands familiarised themselves with the strong curve of your cheeks and their strong jiggle potential when he grabbed a handful of your butt to pull you closer so he could grind on you. “Ohhh,” you sighed into yet another bite of his shoulder. 

Jungkook kept grinding and you kept whining and sighing. By then you were sure you had soaked through your panties and down your thighs, something he wished to witness as his fingers hooked around your pants and pulled them all the way down. You were raring to keep stroking him. Honestly, you could have held his dick forever if asked to. It was heavy and hot against your palm, velvety skin dragging up and down with each movement of your hand. And with every particularly good stroke on your end it would give you a little reward twitch.

But Jungkook had other plans. He stood back up, hands sliding behind your thighs to heave you up, legs around his waist as he climbed onto the bed. He knelt on the mattress with your form still clinging to him and arranged the few pillows to his satisfaction. He tapped your thigh for you to let go and lay splattered on the bed, wet and needy pussy on display for him. You still had on your flimsy crop top, which he all but ripped off you. 

“Hey!” You went in for a hit on his chest, which he blocked. “Not cool, this isn’t some sort of movie you know,” you pouted angrily at him to which he smiled back.  He wondered how he didn’t not notice you at the rink before? 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He made small talk as he spread you further to stare at your dripping centre. “Who says we’re gonna meet again after this?”

Jungkook ran his fingers past your wet folds, coating himself in your want as he turned his eyes back at you to be met with the sight of your cheek. “All this juice says.” You heard a loud pop and tried to shield yourself but his thighs were in the way. “Oh, now you’re shy,” he huffed lightly as he held onto your ankles to push himself back enough to be at eye-level with the result of his alluring nature. 

“Is it okay if I eat you out?” you didn’t know if he had intended his question to come out as soft as it did, like he really believed that you didn’t want his face between your thighs. “Jeon just get to it.”you acted detached. He shook his head at your feigned annoyance and grabbed a handful of your thighs, rooting himself close enough to your gaping hole that your folds tickled from his shallow breaths. 

He bit his way past your clenched thigh and gave you one last squeeze, “What a pretty cunt.” One he dived right into, tongue lapping at the excess wetness with an excruciatingly slow lick . “Ahh, fuck.” You did your best to take a deep breath, one supposed to calm your jitters down but Jungkook wasn’t looking to give you mellow head. Harshly kneading the skin of your thighs, he buried his face deeper into your pussy, pointed tongue travelling past pooling juices to probe your entrance hard enough for your hands to bunch into fists hard that would leave crescent moons on your palms. 

“Oh–My–God.” You moaned between rhythmless breaths. You squeezed your eyes, back arching off the bed when he licked you in a particularly hungry away only to graze his teeth lightly against your sensitive flesh. “You good up there?” You could feel his smile against your inner thighs. You shoved your heel into his side in retaliation. “Oh, aggressive in bed? Sexy” You propped yourself up on your elbows to give him a dumbfounded look as you motioned to him to keep it going. “Awww, you’re so mean to me darling.” His shiny lips formed a pout and you did your best not to react to what he had just called you. “Please,” you muttered for good measure. But Jungkook seemed like an easy person to please and an even bigger people pleaser so he got back to the task at hand.

While he had kept quiet for most of the time he was devouring your pussy, now with some kind of newfound confidence he hummed soft words of praise at every little twitch of your legs and buck of your hips and every soft gasp that left your lips. His eagerness fed off of your whining and tossing and he grew harder for every squeeze of your thighs he felt against his broad frame. 

While Jungkook was satisfied with having you laid out for him, oozing your desires into his tongues for him to taste and praise, he wanted to see how far he could take you. Maybe it was just him and his competitive spirit or maybe it was his need to explore more of you, to add one more thing on his list of “who Y/N is” before you parted ways. Whatever it may have been, it made him bring his hand down to plunge a strong finger past your folds and into your welcoming heat. You yelped at the sensation, hands finally settling on Jungkook’s hair only for your hold to strengthen as he slipped the finger in and out. 

“You like that darling?” You chose not to answer, you didn’t want to inflate his ego anymore as if he wasn’t able to make out the answer for himself, which he did when a second finger made an entrance and you whined at the delicious feeling of the slight stretch. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” You flapped your foot against the mattress when he went back to attacking your centre with his tongue, flicking at your clit, landing fluttering kisses that have the knot in your stomach tighten further while his scissored you into a whining mess.

“I didn’t know I was about to fuck a fish.” He laughed as you felt the swipe of his tongue when he retracted from his kisses which set off the aim of your kick against his side. “Next time remind me to bring a tie or a few of them. Don’t get me wrong I appreciate the reaction but I don’t like to be disturbed while I am ravaging such a delightful pussy.” You wanted to abandon the daze Jungkook had induced within you, just for a second, enough to refute his idea of a second time, but the rushed addition of a third finger inside your wet walls shut you up. Jungkook pressed his digits with determination, alternating speeds to make a mockery out of your need for oxygen. 

Things seemed to come in a duality for him. While he wished nothing more than to make a mess of you, and revel in the mix of gushing sounds from your cunt and pitched curses blessing his ears, he equally wanted to slide the softness of his cheeks against your thighs only to turn his head to cover you in ghostly kisses. He wanted you to feel everything, his fingers turning you into putty, his breaths fanning turning you even hotter, the dip of his other hand beyond your clenched stomach and past the valley of your chest as you held your breath long enough to exhale into the commanding squeeze of his tattooed fingers around your breast.

He went on, you screamed on. He fed himself off your cries and scratches on his scalp, slurping on the endless gush resulting from months’ worth of pent up horniness of your part. 

You slapped Jungkook’s shoulder, hoping to bring him out of this endless exploration with his tongue. You were close. “Jungkook~,” you whined, head tossing side to side. He hummed against you, grabbing a fistful of your ass, somehow bringing you closer than you already felt. You were beyond controlling yourself, legs trembling at the combined attack of his nose against your clit, tongue curving as he soaked you up. ”There you go, come for me darling.” 

He engulfed your bud around his lips and your hands retracted for your breasts, any semblance of normality and balance slipping from your fingers into Jungkook’s hair. “Jeo— oh god, fuc—yeah right...” You trailed off, words getting caught in your throat, back arching your feverish chest against the stale air of the room, hands clenching around his locks at the moment the compiled knot of your arousal snapped under Jungkook’s attentive care. 

You tried to control your quivering legs and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s slow and steady ascent from the place between your legs to your lips, you might have shrieked at an alarming volume. You still shrieked but the same coated lips that brought about your orgasm, were placed on yours to bring you back down to your usual composure. You tasted yourself on his tongue. And you couldn’t control the twitch of your torso when his hand went to caress your back, pulling scorching skin against each other. 

The light and docile dance of Jungkook’s fingers brought about a different demeanour in you. At least that was what you let yourself believe. You exhaled an amused deep breath in the crook of his neck as your high came to an end, “Fuck, you’re good at this.” 

“Again, thank you,” he said calmly, yet you felt the slight thumping of his heart against your breast. It must be from vigorous exercise. 

The both of you lay next to each other on your side for a moment, Jungkook’s arm draped over the dip of waist. 

“Honestly, we could end here and I would be happy,” you said closing your eyes, letting your neck rest as your head slumped against his chest. A small laugh erupted from him.

“It’s you saying shit like that, that will make sure we don’t end here, at least not if I can do something about it.” He ran his hand along his neck and you truly believed in your soul to be staring at a Michelangelo painting. You ogled the way his arm stretched sideways to reveal the small bed of air in his armpit as his biceps bulged (whether he’s showing off or that was just your perception didn’t matter and you frankly didn't care). 

His hairstyle was no longer present, hair completely out of his face and you imagined this was what he must look like when he wakes up, albeit less sweaty and red from all the scratches and marking. His face looked a lot softer, the fat on his cheek more prominent and the largeness of his eye more notable.

Maybe that was a bit harsh, but you would rather not have him text you during this specific weekend. You didn’t know what kind of texter he was, but if you based it off your only interaction, he seemed rather talkative.You just needed some time to let what just had happened and what would continue to happen sink in.

“Stop staring at me. It’s not helping your case for stopping here,” he said, blinking a couple of times to look past you. This Jungkook, who was in fact like all the versions of Jungkook you had seen during your pining months, had you feeling less intimidated enough for you to smile at his remark. The first proper smile he got to see. He wanted to comment on it but you spoke before.

“You wear glasses?” 

“How do you know?” He asked back.

“I didn’t. I just noticed you blinking a lot so I guessed.”

“I wear lenses for the most part, but my eyes are quite dry. It’s usually not a problem. But I wasn’t trying to miss any of your reactions,” he winked

You huffed giving him an incredulous look. You wondered what he looks like with glasses on? Does he look hotter or cuter? You were  about to continue building on your imagination when he decided that break time was over by pulling on your arm to have you laying on top of him where you could now feel his reenergized cock. You threw yet another look his way as if you weren’t mentally drooling at the thought of seeing him with glasses.

“I told you to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about me. Thinking about me outside of this context.” 

You were too childish to admit, so you did the first thing that comes to mind at the sight of his chest. You bit it.

“Ouch! You really want me to make you cry again huh?”

Deeming him distracted enough from the previous path your conversation was taking. You stretched your neck to his pierced ear. “I want you to fuck me now, Jeon.” If the shift of his gaze wasn’t proof enough of the sudden change in atmosphere. Then the contraction of his hands against your frame, as your heart triumphed at the feel of his cock hardening further against the edge of your thigh, made it clear.

“Hmm such a potty mouth,” he gave you a serene kiss, hands travelling deeper into the valley of your back. “Not even a small please.” He got a very deliberate feel of your ass while nipping at your collarbone. 

Using both hands placed at the top of his V cut, you pushed yourself to a seated position on top of his hard dick, pulling an agitated groan from Jungkook’s lips. You ground your hips on top of him, wet pussy lips providing copious lubrication, “Please~," you moan, head hanging low. He bit his lip, hand colliding with your ass, “That’s more like it.”

The feel of him was more overwhelming than you had imagined and when Jungkook rooted his hands on your hips to guide you into a slower grind, your legs squeezed against him at the feel of his tip grazing your entrance. You threw him a side eye, fully aware of his teasing. But you didn’t mind it all too much, especially not when it felt so good. The kind of good that made you close eyes and munch on your bottom lip for fear of uttering something utterly stupid but very true like, “God, I could fuck you forever.” 

“Huh, whatcha say?” Your eyes shot open to look at Jungkook’s distorted eyebrows above the eyes that were staring at the conjunction between your groins, lip still caught in his teeth. “Nothing,” you dismissed your unintended statement easily, diverting his attention to the current moment.

The hand that was splattered against his sweaty chest traveled to wrap around his fully erect penis as Jungkook hissed at your touch. “Oh fuck, you’re really gonna ride me?” You couldn’t help the prideful swell of your chest at his enthusiasm. Jungkook might have seemed intimidating but he definitely knew how to praise. At the rate he was going, you were one hundred percent sure you would be boasting about fucking him for the rest of the academic year. 

You pushed against your knees, body relaxing thanks to the soft caresses Jungkook left on the sides of your thighs. Okay, you were really going to do it? Your heartbeat had skyrocketed, eight months of pining and imagining finally coming to an end. You were ready to sink onto his length.

“Wait! Condom.” He said pointing to the side of the bed where his discarded leather pants should be somewhere. 

“Right,” you shook your head, coming back to your senses as you shuffled quickly off him and the bed to grab his pants.

“Nice ass,” he emitted a subtle sound of approval making you roll your eyes as you bent back up, pants in your hand. “Back pocket,” he instructed. You found exactly one condom. “I see you didn’t have too many plans of your own for tonight,” you said in what was supposed to be a light tone, but it came off far more judgemental. You managed a smile for good measure, climbing back up on top of him.

You teared off the packaging, unrolling the condom onto his cock which was wet with your want. A soft “oh” came from underneath you when you reached the base of his dick. Jungkook’s look had somehow become even more intense, he stared as your fingers traveled to hold his shaft, positioning yourself above it. While you tried to make it subtle, he noticed the small breaths you took apprehensively before sinking his member into your wet warmth. 

You both sighed, you delighted by the thought-erasing stretch of Jungkook’s throbbing length as he ended up fully sheathed in you, and him simultaneously entranced by the tightness of your walls and the sight of you on top of him. Jungkook might not have known you before now, but he was sure he wouldn’t ever forget you. In fact, he doesn’t.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love a good cockwarming but it would be a waste if I com—,” you shifted your hips a bit “before I got a good dicking in.” 

“Jeon, shut up. I need to adjust okay.” 

Jungkook was about to open his mouth to boast, you were sure of it so you slapped your palm down on his mouth. You thought you heard him mumble something along the lines of “kinky” as crinkles showed up besides his eyes.

You took yet another deep breath, moaning at the slow drag of his veiny cock against your pussy as you slid up, tip almost leaving your core only to slide back down, a small shriek emitting from your throat on the fast descent. Jungkook’s hands left your sides to remove your hands from his chest so he could lift his torso to a seated position. You gave him a quizzical look. “I just want to be able to kiss you,” he pushed the two of you closer to the headboard, back leaning lazily against the surface, “if I want to, which I will,” he felt the need to add.

So you plunged forward, smashing your lips against his, his head almost hitting the headboard. Arms coming around to rest behind his neck, you picked up the speed as the slapping sounds of your ass against his thighs filled your space. “Ohhhh god,” you sighed against his shoulder. The room was brimming with gushing sounds, Jungkook’s cock ramming into yours between never-ending gasps and groans, and ongoing praise from Jungkook’s end telling you how good your pussy felt, how good you were to him. “Fuck, do you hear how wet you’re for me?”

You stuttered, hands slipping against the headboard when his hips thrusted to meet yours, “Fu-ff-fuck.” You were unsure if you were gonna be able to formulate any coherent words until you came. Ever the ass man Jungkook’s hands spread over your rear flesh guiding you up and down his rigid shaft as he pleased, tethering on the edge between teasing and pleasuring you, further torturing you and himself. 

But he couldn’t  help it, not when you were whispering sweet nothings into his ears, biting his shoulders, scratching his back, mewling and squealing at the feel of him hitting your deepest spot. So Jungkook repeated it as many times as he saw fit, pulling himself out only to slam back into you, feeling your stature tense around his strong arms as you teeth latched on to the skin of his collarbone.

Jungkook kept bouncing you on his cock, mouth extending towards your neglecting mounds, as he placed his hot mouth against it, sending tingles down your spine which made you grind against him. He lapped at the skin, tongue toying with your nipples, further guiding you up and down his dick with his strong hands. You held onto his forearm for balance, crying out into the air. “Ahhh fuck, please Jeon, fuck me more.” 

You were actually not making sense. How exactly was he supposed to fuck you more? You didn’t know but Jungkook made it known that he was the man. He held you still and steady above him and began his assault on your sensitive cunt. He bucked into your hips with a relentless speed that had your breast bouncing in his face, to his delight. Your thighs were burning, knees ready to give up as you screamed shamelessly. 

Jungkook hissed as he felt your pussy tighten around him, milking the come out of him. He didn’t know how much longer he could last. You sighed deeper into his thrusts when he spanked your ass shooting pleasure straight to your tightening core as you did your best to restrain your oncoming orgasm. You wanted it to last forever. 

You decided to start moving again, meeting his thrusts halfway, intensifying the effect as Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, a hand anchoring itself at the back of your neck as he stared into your fucked out expression. You were sweaty, eyelids down but squeezed, mouth open, jaw slack and Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. He pulled you down by your neck, lips rubbing against each other. You managed to kiss for short bursts of time frequently separating, mouths agape to gasp and moan at the feeling of each other, feeling yourselves close to coming. 

Your hand moved to cup Jungkook’s cheek before you tilted his head back with a gentle hair grab, “Jungkook, make me come,” you said before kissing up his jaw. The fact that you had called him by his first name for the first time was not lost on him and he couldn't control the wide smile that spread on his lips. “Anything for you darling,” he kissed into your neck.

Suddenly, reenergized Jungkook jolted his hips forward, stronger than before, digging deep into your soaked core as he marked your shoulder. His thighs pushed against your own, spreading you wider, no barrier in sight as his hand found your clit, which he rubbed in quick circles as he continued to roll his hips into yours, dick straining against the increased tightness. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” 

It was when Jungkook started to piston into you that you felt your body slowly lose itself. The knot in your stomach coiling, ready to snap, thighs trembling from being held in place. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered. 

He didn't think he would ever get tired of you calling his name. “Come for me darling. Cream on my cock,” he demanded, hand digging into your ass as he continued rubbing your clit. A few more thrusts came along before you choked, body rigid as the coil in you snapped, and you gushed on Jungkook’s dick to his big pleasure. Your entire body quivering under his soothing caresses. You stayed in place, moaning when Jungkook swiped his hand past your pussy lips so he could have a taste. He hummed, fingers in his mouth, “You’re delicious darling.” You smiled too tired to give him any ounce of attitude. 

But you were not done yet, so you pulled through letting your raw cunt sink back down on Jungkook’s cock. You started moving to his enjoyment. You were sensitive so you went slow, but that didn't seem to have any less of an effect on Jungkook who huffed in between breaths, trying to enjoy as much of you before he came. You leaned into him, lips biting and licking his earlobe, “Can you come for me baby?” 

Were you playing dirty? Yes. But honestly you didn't know how much longer Jungkook could hold and you were sensitive, so you played on his apparent weakness, he liked to please and you liked to be pleased. On top of that his pulsating dick made it known that he liked the term of endearment. “Ohh god, please call me baby again,” he grunted.

“Will you come then?”

“Fuck yeah.”

With a couple more strokes in the bag, a tensed Jungkook under you, you raked your fingernails down his back, kissing up his shoulder to the junction between his shoulder and neck where you placed a light bite before licking your way up to his ear. “Baby,” you kissed the contour of his ear, “Jungkook, come in me baby,” you mewled, dropping down onto his shaft.

You gasped at the strong grasp Jungkook had on your hips as he grunted, hips stuttering into you. His hot breath heated your chest while his strong arms abused your skin and he kept mumbling curses under his breath with his eyes screwed shut. “Oh shit, ugh, fuck ahhh,  you’re….” He trailed off, speech rolling into sighs as he ran a hand down his face.

“I am ?,” you inquired.

“The best I’ve ever had,” he said hugging you. He wanted to say something else, but he doubted either of you were ready to deal with what it could possibly entail.

You got off of his lap to lay on the bed, exhausted but fully satisfied. After all, the eight month long pining was worth it.. You couldn’t wait to scream to Kyra about this. You could genuinely go the remaining of the year being celibate, that’s how satiated you felt.

Jungkook poked your side, bringing you back from your thoughts, “About that offer, I am up for it if you are,” he probed in a weary tone.

“What offer?”

“I mean I didn’t hear you too clearly, but I’m pretty sure you said something about being able to fuck me forever.”

You stayed silent. After all you didn’t know what kind of offer that involves sex he was making. The committed or uncommitted kind?

“I just thought, ya know,  we’re pretty compatible so we could scratch each other’s back once in a while.”

“Are you talking about being friends with benefits?”

“Yeah! That.” He turned to his side to gauge your reaction, “ Only if you want of course! Otherwise forget I asked.” 

You thought back to what Kyra said. There’s more to the male species than Jeon Jungkook. But honestly after the fuck you had just had, you were quite content with deluding yourself for a couple of months, or however long the arrangement could last.

You satt up on the edge of the bed, “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.” 

“Oh! Okay, uhm cool then,” he said, sounding both surprised and enthusiastic.

You were dirty but you still put your clothes back on, stealing Jungkook’s t-shirt. “I’m taking this cause you tore my top off.” It was too big for you, but it smelled nice, like him. Maybe it could cover up the sex stench you had on.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not .” He scratched the back of his head. You flip him off which made him chuckle.

You were fully clothed, shoes on, ready to exit the room. Jungkook was sporting his outfit too without the t-shirt and he totally resembled an exotic male dancer. You tore your eyes off his body before you started thinking things, turning around and reaching for the door handle.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hmm.”

“Your phone number?”

“Monday at Ms Diane’s after your shift,” you blurted out before leaving the room in a rush.

You kept your promise and stopped by at Diane’s Rink for a quick greeting and a recital of your phone number. You wanted to stay longer, and had you asked Jungkook if it was okay with him, he would have rolled past and around you with an affirming smirk. 

After that you turned your text notifications back on. What followed was three days of losing your composure at the slight sound of a bling coming from your phone. Maybe you had overestimated Jungkook’s forwardness. It wasn’t until you bumped into him and his friend at the university’s lunch space a couple of days later that you got to see him again. The two of you were in different departments so you rarely had class in the same buildings. 

You ate in silence, eyes focused on the word dense pages of Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road”, so much the words jumbled together and you slammed the book shut, sighing into yet another bite of your bland chicken sandwich. You snuck another look at his table and he looked fine. You hadn’t expected him to look any different really but you thought maybe he had noticed you too. Sure you looked a lot less eye-catching than what you did at the party but one would be able to recognise someone they fucked not so long ago. Worse of it all, he had asked you and you were the one losing your mind over it. 

Appetite gone, you picked up your belongings and your small pile of trash, throwing the waste in the bin not far from his table. You had chosen to act on the hurt and growing anger inside of you, pulling out your phone to text him a petty, “Nice to see you too asshole 🖕”. 

You hadn’t even cared that you were blowing your cover, revealing that you were in fact already in possession of his number, further adding to your desperation. You stood back for a few moments but out of sight just to see his reaction. Jungkook had retrieved his phone from his pocket, taking a quick look at his screen before hastily lifting his head to look at the table where you had been sitting. So he saw…. 

You could have left unnoticed but you were already on your dramatic streak so you chose to storm out of the hall, passing by his apprehensive eyes. If only you had turned around just for a split second, enough to decipher the pleased expression on his face, you would have in fact known that Jungkook was quite happy to know that wanted it just as much as him. He considered that a needed affirmation for him to move forward, speeding past the green light.

It wasn’t long Jungkook grabbed hold of you after your “Literary and Cultural Theory” class.

“Hey! Slow down, I’m about to drop my books,” you had alarmed him shuffling hastily behind his combat boots and he couldn’t have shown you that he gave any less of a shit when he instead quickened his stride. 

It wasn’t long before you were dragged into the cramped confinement of his car. Books, bags and clothes in the front seats while an eager Jungkook and a confused you took refuge in the back seat. You shivered against the cool fabric of the seat as Jungkook’s chest warmed you up from above as he huffed and puffed beside your ear for every pointed thrust he landed deep within your gushing core. You had tried and failed at keeping your voice down. You stared out of the window attempting to calm your breathing by synchronising it with the lazy fall of browned tree leafs. 

You had accomplished a couple of firsts in that moment, First time having car sex (which wasn’t as hot as you thought it would be but Jungkook made up for it), and dabbling in slight exhibitionism behind Jungkook’s tinted back seat windows (which surprisingly left you more horny than expected). 

“Ready to get started with this darling?” He asked, sweating skin leaving yours as his softening cock left your entrance earning a gasp from your side of the car.

“A head’s up would have been nice.” Your hand searched the front seat for your panties.

“But isn’t that the fun part?” He snapped his condom shut. “Plus it’s not like I, or even you can control when you feel like doing it.”

You were ready to refute his reasoning but he made a point and you held your tongue. 

“Fine, but don’t abuse your fuck n’ go rights or I’ll get stingy. I don’t have your stamina Jeon.” You tore your head to the side after putting on your t-shirt to look at him, eyes demanding him to say he’ll behave.

“Okay, okay, sure I’ll try.”

That was the first big lie he had told you.

Since then, the thrill that came with getting regular dick in unexpected places never ceased and as you’re now watching Jungkook tear the rink apart with his calculated moves and pristine performance on shiny black roller skates, you know exactly how you would like your next appointment to be. 

Despite having been fuck buddies for over three months, the prospect of Jungkook roleplaying in his work uniform never had been a reality. You think it’s about time you change that. 

The air in the rink is fiery in spite of the cool winter air outside, people cram together at the edge of the rink to watch the contestants. After an unexpected turn of events, the annual “Disco Craze” roller skating contest had been short of one judge. Miss Diane hurried to find a replacement in the crowd. Of course you had jumped at the opportunity, after all you had arrived too late to the rink to get a good spot to watch the competition. Maybe it was your enthusiasm or your familiar face but to your delight you got picked.

This year’s contestants are far better than last year and both as a judge and a friend you’re fearing for Jungkook’s current winning streak. However, that’s a fear he doesn’t seem to share. Not with the way he glides smoothly to the beat of “I Don't Feel Like Dancin'” by Scissor Sisters. He soaks in the cheering crowd, spot rexing with a goofy smile on your face. 

This is probably the first time you really get to see Jungkook roller skate, you knew he was good, everyone had told you, just not that he was this good. 

His happiness while he scissors across the rink is contagious. He mouths the lyrics towards the crowd and unlike the song title, you see the soft sway of bodies moving to the beat. You’re left smiling before you know it, foot tapping along. He does a quick jump into a spin, before he speeds towards the judge’s table only to stop abruptly as he body rolls backwards. You shake your head, feeling more aware of the tactics Jungkook must have employed throughout the years to win. His number is over before you know it. 

There are a total of eleven contestants. But from what you’ve seen it’s between Jungkook and a girl who performed a great number to Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”. During the intermission to allow the public to cast their vote, you shuffle away to buy some kit kats at the little snack shop beside the handoff counter for the roller skates. 

You finish one pack and buy a second which Jungkook snatches from your hands when he joins you. 

“Thank you,” he sticks out his tongue at you before ripping the red packaging and biting into your kit kat. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” you sneer.

“Oooo I’m so scared.” He laughs a bit too loud, giving you a full view of his kit kat filled mouth. Sometimes you really want to hit him upside the head. “Sooo, what did you think?”

“About what?”

“My skating, duh! I’m pretty good, right?” He lifts an eyebrow cocking his head as he goes in for another aggressive bite of your kit kat.

“Meh, it was okay,” you say, walking away from the shop counter to sit by one of the benches near the rink. 

“Okay!?”

“Yeah, just okay Jeon, The girl, uhm, what’s her number?” You know her number. “You know, the one with the yellow skates, she could totally beat you.”

You’re partially trying to mess with him but you’re also being honest. Her performance really was that good. “Pfft, whatever. I know I have loyal fans.” He sits down besides you and leans against the wall. “Sure, you do,” you mumble.

With one bar of the kit kat left, he extends the package to you and says, “As long as you don’t vote for her I’ll forgive your hurtful words.”

You take it, because it’s a kit kat, you would never say no. “Bribing judges Jeon, huh? What other tricks apart from this and those body rolls do you have up your sleeve?” You munch on the bar.

“Tricks that will make you cry if you don’t vote for me darling,” he says loud enough for only you to hear. He brings his hand onto your thigh, running upwards close enough to where he could cup your cunt with his big palm making your breath hitch, but he just squeezes your thigh and lifts himself off the bench to return to the rink. You swallow the leftover chunks of kit kat in your mouth before you end up choking, throw the package in the bin and walk away, trying to act as unbothered as Jungkook.

Miss Diane’s voice booms through the speaker letting everyone know that the intermission is over and the votes have been counted. Having judges at this contest is more so for an official feel, for the most part the judges never needed to vote. The results from the public’s vote were usually quite decisive, even if a judge’s vote equalled ten times the single vote a person from the public got. 

As it looks now, it is 84-64 to the girl with yellow skates. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so unhappy, not even after he had lost points for a minor mistake when calculating his error on an experiment for a chemistry paper. He looks at you once he feels your gaze, his eyes reinforcing the little chat you had earlier. 

It’s time for the judges to cast their vote. Mr. Ludwig, the owner of a café just a few blocks away, votes, to your surprise, for Jungkook. And as expected so does Miss Diane. It’s a tie.

Ten decisive points. 

Your points to give. 

Jungkook is staring at you, she isn’t. Jungkook likes to take your things from you, she doesn’t even know you. Jungkook threatens you, she has never even talked to you. But most importantly Jungkook is good at skating, he did really well but Miss “Yellow Skates” was better.

Mind set on who you’re voting for. Your arm lifts up her number. Number seven. 

Jungkook lowers his heads, chuckling lightly into his chest before he looks up and congratulates the winner, clapping along with the crowd. He skates off the rink to let her perform her winning number once again. You’re still seated by the judge’s table before thumping steps grow louder coming towards you. Just like the time he pulled you away for your first quickie in his car, he yanks you off the seat, gently enough not to bring about anyone’s attention but strong enough for you to feel the nature of your current predicament. 

“You’re so fucked,” he growls pushing in the direction of the staff room. 

“I know,” you can’t help but giggle. Ultimately this was the perfect opportunity. You fulfil your fantasy of fucking him in his embellished uniform and you also get to make sure someone who’s better than him wins. Two birds, one stone. You don’t think you’ve ever been this effective. 

Jungkook slams the door to the room shut, but doesn’t lock it. He drags you towards the door of the bathroom stalls. “Ehh, you sure about that Jeon?”

He pushes you along from behind, hand on your back, “Don’t worry, it’s clean,” he says softly before closing the door to the small stall to whisper into shoulder, “Unlike what you’re gonna be when I’m done with you.”

Jungkook’s naked arms wrap around your torso, hands landing on your hardened nipples over the fabric of your turtleneck as his mouth nips at the back of your neck. “I warned you darling.” You moan, ass rubbing against his groin enough to elicit a groan. “I won’t stop until you’re crying.” He wraps a hand around neck, right hand smoothly undoing your jeans as his hand dances on top of your skin, down your needy core and past your wet lips.

He does this as many times as he pleases. This isn’t about you. It’s about him using you. He follows the sway of your hips giving into your chase for his fingers, dipping into your heat, slowly. He starts with a finger, swirling it around, humming at the satisfying feel of you being so wet and ready for him. He squeezes your throat in approval. When he feels you clench at that he goes on to add a second finger. “Ugh, Jeon faster, please.”

Does he like how politely you’re being? Yes. But you know what else would have been polite? You voting for him. “Oh no, I don’t think so darling.” He adds a third finger and your back stutters against his broad chest, head thrown back against his shoulder. “You like that?” You nod your head, lips caught in between your teeth to repress your moans. “Then let me hear you darling.” You bite down harder on your lips. 

Now with three fingers deep in you, stretching your cunt as your juices slide down his digits he picks up his speed. He keeps his strokes irregular, he never wants you to know what's coming. In and out unlike your breaths. You have resorted to shallow breathing, head turning for you to bury your nose into Jungkook’s veiny neck, as he makes a mockery out of you. He gives you a momentary break, stuffing his mouth with his fingers, “Oh yeah, desperation is a good taste on you.” He hums reaching his fingers towards your mouth which you open to taste yourself, whining at the back of your throat. “My darling is such a good girl,” he says biting your earlobe. 

The hand that was on your throat, moves to roll your jeans past your thighs and past your knees. 

“Do you even have a condom?” You croak as a chill runs down your leg from the cold air. 

“What kind of question is that? When is that I’m never prepared?” He says, foot coming between yours to spread your legs. “I had planned for a sweet and gentle celebratory fuck after the competition, but you’re you and now we’re here.” You purr through your shivers when he runs his hands on the inside of your thighs, grazing your pussy before the pads of his fingers knead your ass. 

Frankly you’re a bit glad to have escaped his initial plan. Having sweet sex with Jungkook was never your forté, while he could switch easily between his rough and gentle personas, you were never able to act normal when faced with the dulcet tones of his praises and the soothing touches of his body against yours. With a clenched and curved back, feet planted against the mattress for leverage, he would ram slowly but firmly, head secured in the depth of your collarbones as his cock reached the depth of you, making you quaver beneath him. On occasions like that, you never stuck around for too long after you were done. Jungkook had a habit of asking if you had enjoyed the act as if he wasn’t the one on top of you appeasing your frantic high and kissing throaty moans away.

No, you preferred this, when he grabs your roughly by your rear, landing a few spanks that have your arms reaching for the walls of the stall to steady yourself as he grunts at how much wetter you’re becoming. Or at least you could deal with it better. 

“Bend over for me darling.” 

You bend over instantly when Jungkook’s arms leave your upper body, hands landing on the lid of the toilet to catch yourself. You had found yourself in this position before, and you had cried the most in all of those moments. But you had never been standing. Not to predict the future, but you’re sure Jungkook will have to carry you into an orgasm, unless he wants you to kneel on all four on the floor. 

Jungkook runs his drenched index down your spine, hand lifting back for another spank. “Ah!” And another to reprimand your scream, “Keep your voice down, unless you want us to be found out,” he smirks behind you, hand cupping your heat only to dip a finger into you without warning.

“Ohhh, shit,” you slur, fingers raking the surface of the lid. Jungkook shows no sign of being gentle, fingers abusing your pussy, driving in and out of you at an alarming speed. 

When his digits curl inside of you right before a slow exit you clamp your hand around your mouth for fear of being too loud. Despite that, your soft cries are still audible to him making him smile before he resumes his explosive fingering. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of this sound,” He says, bringing his other hand under your stomach to probe your swollen and neglected clit. 

While the hastened pace of his fingers continue within you making you clench around the protrusion, Jungkook adopts a mellow pace to his massaging of your clit. The dual attack leaves you conflicted, unsure which way to rock your hips. “Arghhh,” you bite in your upper arm, clenching again around his digits. “Aww, my darling wants to come,” he coos. You rock your hips back in response. 

“Oh, but then you should have voted for me, don’t you think?” You almost cry at the loss of contact, when your cunt is left empty and gapping. 

You see him take a small step back to lean against the door of the stall. You exhale, still bend over, legs buckling when your thighs meet in a futile effort to relieve some tension. “You good there?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, but you find this far from funny. 

“Jeon, please,” you say in a low, weak voice.

Ever since the first time he fucked you, Jungkook has always enjoyed toying with you, both outside and inside the bedroom. Whether it was borrowing (re: stealing) your favourite pens or taking a bite and in worse case scenario a whole portion of whatever it’s you’re eating. But nothing had ever topped this. Having you desperate to reach your orgasm and yet denying you that pleasure was a big favourite of his. He’s sure he could easily get himself off right now, ripping his condom off at the right moment just for him to decorate the smooth roundness of your ass with warm white stripes.

“Jeon.” He might have chosen to make you come had you called him Jungkook instead. But you’re you and he’s enjoying himself so he stays put.

“For old times sake, I think you should use me if you want to come so bad,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Really, Jeon?” 

“As real as you not voting for me, yes.” You shake your head. Jungkook’s competitive streak usually worked to your advantage. You enjoyed telling him how you doubt he could do something just to have him do it to you. It was just like asking, without the actual asking. You might have been able to pull something similar for his fingering skills but you’re both well aware of how many times the pounding from his rough digits has made you come.

Your hands push against the lid of the toilet, your frame wobbles a bit once you’re standing up straight and you can hear Jungkook’s giggly response. You turn around, slowly, to face his slightly red face and the very prominent bulge in his pants. He follows your eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says readjusting his pants but only making the matter worse, “I can wait.” 

You lift your head, step closer to him so you can catch a hold of the wrist below his wet hand. “Three,” you say, eyes travelling down his face to his parted lips. Adjusting your stance, you guide his three flexed out digits towards your dripping entrance. “Kiss me.”

While he likes toying with you, Jungkook is rather obedient especially when it advantages him. So he drops his head, hair tickling your nose, before his lips settle on yours. In that moment, you drive his fingers past your drenched nether lips as you moan into his kiss. 

You’re convinced Jungkook’s dick is feeling a bit uncared for despite his reassurance. Doing your best to fuck yourself on his fingers, your hand gets occupied with palming his hard member. You’re totally only focusing on pleasuring yourself so much he cups the hand you have his cock and reinforces your grip and kneading. He hums into your kiss, satisfied and probably leaking in his boxers. 

You suddenly let go of his reddened lips when he spreads his digits inside of you, the pads of his fingers grazing your walls, making you whine into his neck. You slow down your pace, feeling how close you are, “Jun– oh fuck, yeah right there.” His pace quickens once he registers the tremors in your legs. Fingers plunging deeper into your leaking pussy. Both hands free, you engulf Jungkook’s stature, holding on as his other hand grabs a strong hold of your cheeks to plant a harsh kiss on your lips.

He spreads his fingers and jams them in and out of you, He whispers for you to come on him, to let him hear you exhale choked breaths for him to remember tonight when he’s jerking off to the thought of you. You do just that.

Your chest heaves, fingernails digging into his back, face hiding from Jungkook’s protruding eyes as the tension in your core ruptures and your legs go slack. “Oh god, fuck me.” 

“All in due time darling,” he answers back, hand running down your back.

“I meant to say fuck you, Jeon.” You manage to croak out once you’re sure you’ve reached the complete end of your orgasm.

Your hands loosen around his back and you step back, head turning down to stare at the slick on your inner thighs. “Surprised?” He inquires.

“No. Not exactly,” your head lift, “you’ve have probably ruined sex for me with other people for a while.”

Jungkook might have taken your statement as a compliment dick twitching in response, but you were in all honesty a bit horrified at the thought. How long is a while? This can’t last forever, can it ?

“Let’s take care of that since I’m feeling apologetic.” You point at his bulge. Your hands wrap around the neon green belt on his pants undoing it and slowly releasing his strained cock. It still looked as deliciously curved, bloodshot and veiny against his stomach as the last time you saw it, which was a mere two days ago at his dorm. 

You’re about to lower yourself onto unstable knees, “Uh-uh, some other time,” he says turning you around and bending you over again. What can he say? He really enjoyed the view of your ass, “Right now, I want to feel your pussy around me.”

When Jungkook hastily eases the throbbing length into your wet core without warning, you deduce that he’s still a bit angered about your vote. Anger that seems to dissipate once he’s fully rooted in you. “Oh this is the best  feeling in the world,” he moans from above you.

He isn’t looking for a sweet fuck today and directly resorts to slamming into you, making your hands slide against the lid off the toilet. You moan, tossing your head back when the hands on your ass knead the flesh and spread your cheeks for him to continue his eager ramming. When you’re already clenching, pulling jagged groans from Jungkook’s throat, you know you won’t last long.

“Hey, careful there,” he coos at you, lifting you up to place your hands on the tank of the toilet. “Wouldn’t want you to hit your head. That’s not how I want to make you cry.” He slows down his strokes enough to allow you to steady your grip on the tank and then resumes sinking down into you at his rushed speed.

The force with which he pistons into you is enough to have your legs hitting against the edge of the seat, as your fingers fumble to keep you stable accidentally flushing the toilet once in a while. Jungkook fucks and spanks you to his heart’s desire. “Look how good you’re to me,” he praises, hand pinching your nipple before constricting the movement of your breath. “Jungko–” He rams into you. He loves taking your breath away mid-moan. “Fuck, why are you so big?” You mewl, eyes watering as he repeatedly removes himself from your depths only to slam back in.

Jungkook feels your pussy clench around him, slowly milking him dry, getting him closer to his own orgasm. So he reaches down, arms wrapping around your torso, hands on your mounds as he pulls your back against his chest. “Can you spread your legs a little for me darling?” He asks softly and you comply. Whatever he chooses to ask right now you’re sure you will comply. You moan when you feel him deeper.

“You like the way my cock feels in you?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “You fill me up so good.”

Jungkook can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, “I don’t think you’ve ever complimented my dick this much.” He bites your shoulder, hips bucking harsly against yours, “My darling is that desperate?” You shake your head against his shoulder, biting into your bottom lip.

You might be chasing your own orgasm, but despite that you’re being truthful. Jungkook has the best dick you’ve ever ridden. He knows the places that make you lose it, and he can reach them. He takes care of you even when he’s toying with you. You’ve never been left unsatisfied or hurt. Honestly, he’s a great fuck buddy. Also he’s just Jungkook.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“You.”

It slips out of you and you can’t take it back, not when you’re sure he heard it so clearly. Jungkook stills at the sound of your confession and you finally get to take a deep breath. 

Your eyes might be screwed shut but you’re certain of the look on Jungkook’s eyes as he peers down at your head thrown back above his shoulder. It’s the same look he has been giving you more and more often lately. A look you had been trying to avoid. It didn’t feel like he was just looking at you, but inside you. Or more so looking for something inside of you.

You manage a couple of breaths before Jungkook proceeds his strokes with an even greater ferocity than before. “Ah–a–ah,” you choke out as your hands cup his hands that are firmly planted around your breasts. The sound of Jungkook’s hips slapping against your ass fills the confined stall and you release a cry each time he gains leverage leaving your walls battered and full. 

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going murmuring the occasional “Mine” into the air with furrowed eyebrows as you clench harder around him. His throbbing member slides into you, fully sheathed within your warmth. Once, twice, thrice. Enough times to make you dizzy and lose count. And with each slap of ass against hips you offer a guttural moan, eyes tearing up, legs trembling. 

“Jeo– I’m cl–oh fuck, so close.”

Jungkook's warm finger caresses your pussy. “ I know darling.” His palm kneads into your clit, the overwhelming stimulation makes you choke down a sob. “Just let go, I’m here,” he whispers, nose buried against your cheek.

A few more calculated strokes from Jungkook’s hips has him buried deep in your seeping cunt, sloppy thumps surrounding your combined moans and groans. Maybe it’s the way Jungkook’s left hand caresses the breast over your heart, or the cushioned kisses he places against your jaw or the way he lets himself go right before you come. Or maybe it’s all of those things that make you cream on his cock, juices gushing down your thighs and onto him as he kisses you deeply, tongue wrapping around yours to catch your moans, teeth pulling on your lips the same way you pull at his heartstrings. Only when you’re gasping for air does his lips let go of yours.

“You good?”

“Yeah, all good” you sigh.

“Come on, look at me?” 

You do your best to remove any trace of tear streaks as fast as possible, removing your face from the crook of his neck. 

Jungkook still sees, “I am that good, huh?”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

“You’re such a cry baby,” he teases and you can’t refute, he gives your cheek a peck, “and I kinda love it.”

You’re really not a cry baby. Jungkook’s stroke game is just that good. No matter how diluted your conscience is you could never deny his claim. The state in which you’re left is proof enough. 

Jungkook slips out of you, soft cock against sensitive walls. He uses what’s at his disposal and rips off some toilet paper to clean the combined result of your yearning between your legs. It takes a couple of toilet strips to get the job done.

“Thanks,” you mumble when he’s done, flushing the used paper.

“No problem, darling.” He lifts your pants back up, reaching for your discarded top as well. “I can be the caring type you know.”

With a scoff leaving your chest you pluck your t-shirt off of his hands, “No need to convince me, Jeon.”

You really didn’t need convincing. Jeon Jungkook is a reasonable guy. He is a friend you can count on, ambitious when it comes to his studies, smart enough to do double majors (if he had made the choice), good-looking even in the most unflattering circumstances, a champ in bed and sometimes too sweet for his and your own good. 

You had gotten to know all these sides of him with time, some of which came to your knowledge involuntarily, like how he always has a packet of kit kats stashed away for you for whenever you come over to hang and occasionally study before you fuck. The same way you had found yourself reaching for a softer scented detergent after you found out from one of his roommates that he isn’t fond of strong fragrances. 

You had both picked up clues about each other, whether it was voluntary or involuntary. 

And, yes maybe he’s more than reasonable, he’s quite great actually. But Kyra thinks you deserve greater. You don’t know how much you agree with her. But you do acknowledge the fact that Jungkook has been the only one you’ve done whatever this is with. You don’t have much to compare him to, except for the occasional rendezvous you would have back home with men you met on tinder. Maybe you need to explore some more? 

“Ah, I think I still need to convince you some more,” he says to your back after ruffling back into his pants. 

You turn around to face that look you dread. “Whatever floats your boat.” You rush to open the stall’s door, hurried breath brushing against Jungkook’s neck as you storm out towards the sink. You wash your hands to keep yourself from looking at him where he stands against the door frame, styled hair grazing his still flushed cheeks.

Jungkook joins you to wash his own hands. You dry yourself, letting the hot air from the hand dryer drown out the silence. With one final look at the mirror you attempt to look presentable and composed. Jungkook flicks water at you. You throw him a warning look. He does it again.

“Jeon, stop it.” You take a paper towel to dab yourself dry. He does it again.

You exhale a slow breath, ”It’s really not funny and it’s a waste of water.” 

But in true Jungkook fashion he gives it another go. “Jungkook!” You shriek making him crack a scrunched up smile.

He keeps at it until you crack a smile of your own in defeat. “See, eventually you always come around,” he says and you’re confused. He has been throwing a lot of these weird statements at you lately. 

“Okay…. but for now I’m gonna leave before you start annoying me again.”

You walk towards the door, a cool hand touching the cool handle. “You know you can be in my boat too right?” Your step staggers. “It won’t sink or anything, we could both float in it.”

You chuckle, “Be patient Jeon”. Maybe Kyra isn’t right for once. You close your eyes into a stabilizing breath. “I planned on crying some more so I can be sure it will keep floating even with me on it,” you say to the door before walking out.

Jungkook might have lost the competition, but he won something far better. Your reassurance.

It’s with a triumphant smile and a bounce to his step that Jungkook exits the staff room and heads back to skate with part of the public that’s now in the rink. His eyes search for your whereabouts only to land on your hand closing around another kit kat. You’re always consistent with the things and people you like he thinks with a smirk on his face.

“That’s my cry baby.”

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee

[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.