#it's just that i hate going up and down and up and down the ladder 💀

[deepspace-raconteur]

Once again, I bring porn! This time of the fishy variety.

Nothing super kinky, big dick!Raf, sleepy fucking, AFAB MC, Rafayel just loves you so much man, chubby mc,

Rafayel x MC, established relationship.

🐡🐚

You and Rafayel had been dealing with… a problem. For some time now.

For the entire duration of your physical relationship, actually.

The issue being: he’s too big.

Jest all you like, it’s a problem. Or at least, it is to you. Not to say you and Rafayel don’t get each other off, (sea) god knows you can’t keep your hands off each other 99% of the time.

(Thomas is afraid to sit on any of Rafayel’s furniture when he visits, and for good reason. He’d walked in on you two far too many times on the floor, the couch, a memorable time on the ladder…)

Still, it eats at you. That you can’t take him fully. That you two have never ‘fully connected’- note here that Rafayel very much begs to differ, and insists that he does not have this issue. That you, and your limits, are perfect to him, and that he and his dick are very satisfied with your current sex life.

Again, still, it eats away at you. At your self-perception, at your confidence in your own ability to satisfy him… At your heart and mind.

Rafayel hates it. Hates that you take such a small thing so hard. Brushing aside the ego boost it is that his dick is literally too big (ha! What guys can claim that problem, cutie?), he sees the look in your eyes. He sees it when you SHOULD be far more focused on him, thank you very much.

To him, it’s not even that big of a deal- so what he can’t go in that last inch or two? It hasn’t made a difference thus far! But he digresses, and comforts you when he sees that look in your eye.

So, he researches. Reads about things like vaginal tenting, the role of stimulation and duration thereof in intimacy. Of lubrication and preparation, and most of it he already knows frankly (in perhaps not as technical terms), but it’s never bad to brush up. Who knows, maybe more recent research had come out.

Then, he begins to troubleshoot, disguised as his normal passion and unpredictability. New positions, new techniques he ‘just wants to try’.

What he calls foreplay, but is what you’re pretty sure is a ploy to make you completely lose your mind.

After the fourth orgasm he gifts to you, you think your brain might be melting out of your ears.

“Raf- Rafayel, please! I can’t- I can’t-“ comes out as thin whines. Prettily manicured nails clutch into the messy hair of the artist who painted them between your legs. He’d been there for at least two hours now, and seemed content to stay there the rest of the night, too. He hums in acknowledgement, sending a shock up your spine as the vibration targets your clit.

“O-oh, god-“

“You called, cutie?” He finally, finally pulls away. His fingers pulling out almost drags another cry out from between your lips. You can’t help the way your entire body slumps into the mattress, limp and pliable. Rafayel lays his head down, cheek resting on your plush lower tummy as he gazes up at you adoringly. His thumb rubs soothing circles into the flesh of your inner thigh. You focus on just trying to catch your breath.

The gauzy curtains sway in the sea breeze. You can see the stars in near perfect clarity here in his bed, through the glass roof. You idly wonder if this room was meant to be a bedroom, or some sort of solarium intended for plants.

“How you feeling, cutie? Have I worn you out completely?” A smug smile curls his lips, and it’s unbearably cute. Most everything about him is cute, actually, not that you’ll ever say that out loud. You compliment him enough already.

It’s with a final deep breath that you push yourself up onto your elbows, grinning down at the lemurian. “I always have energy for you, seastar.”

He crawls up your body slowly, leaving kisses here and there until he finally reaches your lips. He presses you back down into the mattress, slow and insistent. No room to run away, his body dwarfing your own, emphasized by the way he keeps most his weight off you with a single forearm braced by your head.

You two stay like that, making out to your heart’s content until you feel as though you might actually morph into one being.

When he does finally pull away, he coos down at you, “aww, you are sleepy, cutie. Lookit those droopy eyes.” He leans down to leave a kiss over each eyelid. “Do you want to keep going?” His question is met with an insistent nod, and your arms curling around his shoulders. He chuckles, nuzzling his nose down your jawline.

“Alright, alright. How about this then…”

You let yourself get gently manhandled by him onto your stomach, only letting out a disgruntled huff when your hair accidentally gets caught under a hand for a moment. He’s quick to let up, rubbing the pulled roots for a moment in apology.

When you’re resettled, you’re on your stomach with a pillow under your hips, prone bone style. Rafayel layers himself over the top of you, and feels you shudder when his cock slots between your legs.

He stays like that for a second, you both basking in the closeness. One of his hand runs up and down your side, then slides over to take your hand and pull it up above your head. There, he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. He nips at the back of your neck, and then you feel it- the slow but steady push inside of you.

You moan lowly, pressing your head down into the mattress. It’s muffled like that, and Rafayel’s next nip is sharper, and you get the message and turn your head. He hates it when you try to muffle yourself, muffle your reactions to his hard work.

He earned those pretty noises, damnit, and he wants to hear them.

The next few minutes are careful, as he always is. He’d learned his lesson the first time he’d gotten a tad overexcited, and had accidentally hurt you. He’d never done it again.

Soon you settle into a steady rhythm that has you panting and canting your hips to meet his. The one hand squeezes the one of yours it holds hostage, and the other roams torturously free. One moment plucking your nipple, the next leaving a bruising grip imprint on your hip. At one point, he grabs your jaw and pulls you into a scorching kiss, and you wonder for a second if this will be the time you leave his home with burns.

(He’s far too powerful and in control of his evol for that to ever happen, thanks. He’d be a disgrace of a god if he ever lost control of it and allowed that to happen to his beloved.)

In the end, it isn’t even him that pushes that final inch or so. It’s you.

Rafayel is so close to his own orgasm that he has to pause if he wants to continue pursuing his goal. His breathing is ragged in your ear as he stays pressed inside you, trying to stave off his climax. He’s painting a bright hickey onto your shoulder when he hears you make an impatient noise in the back of your throat.

Then, you push your hips back, forcefully and suddenly. A not so subtle encouragement for him to get moving again.

He chokes when his hips meet your ass, and he’s fully seated inside you. For the first time. Ever.

You don’t even notice.

Rafayel is shocked into silence for only a second, then a delirious grin splits his cheeks. He was fully inside you, and the proof of the lack of discomfort was your own obliviousness.

“Cutie~” he hums teasingly into your ear, to be met with yet another annoyed moan. He swivels his hips, then grinds down into you slowly but firmly, pressing as deeply inside as he can. Not even a wince. He wants to cheer- almost does.

“Can you feel me deep inside you, cutie? Have you even realized yet?” He teases. He gets a very annoyed side-eye glance for not doing what he knows you want. That is, fucking you into next week.

He rolls his eyes, then pulls out just to fuck back in firmly and completely. He damn near sends his own eyes rolling back in their sockets, and breathes raggedly. That, at least, seems to connect some dots, and he sees those pretty eyes he could spend a century trying to color match blow wide.

He takes that as his cue, and starts to fuck the hell out of you in earnest. It’s a celebration now, after all.

“I’m so proud of you cutie, you took all of me. Knew you could.” He gasps between strokes. Below him, the moans and cries steadily grow in volume, and he grins viciously. Yeah, tonight he’d make you scream. It seemed only appropriate.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” He coos, “I knew you could do it. You just needed some extra love to get there. Knew we were a perfect fit for each other.”

He grabs your other hand and mirrors the other, pressing them both into the mattress above your head. Like this, his biceps bracket your head, and you can’t help but bite one. Rafayel hisses above you, his hips stuttering, and he laughs. It seemed he’d have his own marks to match yours in the morning.

“Mmph, fuck, cutie, ah- I’ll-“ he gasps. “I’ll have to fuck you like this every day from now on. Can’t have you forgetting what all of me feels like anytime soon, after you worked so hard.”

Your cries get muffled into his bicep as he feels you tighten like a vice grip around him as you climax. Rafayel stands no chance, and buries his head into your shoulder as his own orgasm is foisted upon him.

You stay like that for a while, until Rafayel can manage to drag himself out and off of you. He doesn’t go far, just falling off to the side and pulling you back into his arms. He curls around you tightly like that, face buried happily into the back of your head.

“I knew you could do it cutie. You did such a good job taking all of me. I’ll cook us a seafood feast tomorrow to celebrate.” He murmurs sleepily, unaware of the bright blush that lights up his lover’s cheeks.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Big Sea: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: This case brings up old wounds in Derek's life when an ocean floor of bodies comes washing ashore. Meanwhile, Frank is nearing the end of his ride before he comes for the one thing he wants, the one thing he's always wanted. You.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If any warnings exceed the normal deaths/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness." - Joseph Conrad

"So, did you ever figure out who put the syringes there?" JJ asks over FaceTime.

"No." You screw in the last camera and climb down from the ladder. "It's so weird..."

"Why?"

"I would have seen their energy. I didn't see anything."

"Did you tell me that you don't see the energies of people you know?"

The thought of someone you know doing this puts a chill on your spine. Does someone hate you so much that they want to scare you? That they want to hurt you?

"I really don't want to think about that, JJ."

There are two cameras in the apartment. One in the bedroom and one in the living room. No one will be getting in here again without you knowing it. You've always been able to rely on your gift to tell you things, to show you people's secrets. Someone you know was in your apartment and you don't know who it is. How can you ever rely on your gift again?

Still, if something happens, you'll be the first to know about it. It doesn't matter where you are in the world, your cameras will always send you a notification if they notice any movement from inside your home. Like now, you're in Florida with the team because bodies are washing up through the seater system, faster than the local police can handle. So many bodies that the local police had to close off the beach to set up shop there.

Bodies were buried under the ocean floor and have recently started coming up due to the shifting tectonics. By the time you get there, there are already half a dozen tents with bones laid out as well as a section for lab personnel to test the bones.

Two men were flushing out the sewer pipes when bones rushed through it, and Hotch is talking to them.

"How deep is the water that this sand is coming from?" Hotch asks.

"About one hundred meters. The pump spews out all kinds of stuff from the ocean floor."

"Do you do this every year?"

"Yes, but it's the first time in Jacksonville. We just moved the barge here three days ago."

"Thousands of miles of open water and blind luck uncovers an unsub's graveyard," Rossi sighs.

"I had them stop the pump once I realized what this was."

"We're going to need you to turn the pump back on. If we don't keep digging, we're not gonna know how many bodies there are down there." Penelope calls Hotch. "What'd you find?"

"A scary math problem. I just finished doing my Jacksonville missing persons sweep. There are six unresolved cases, three of which are kids, and you have nine adult bodies already."

"Then he's not hunting here. Widen your search."

"Yeah, I will do that. Just remember, it is difficult to get an ID match to a thigh bone or coccyx."

"Agent Hotchner." Hotch hangs up and turns around to greet the detective. "Detective Foreman. Call me JT." He gestures to the tents. "Not the most cushy arrangement, but it'll keep your team close to the crime scene for now.

"Well, thank you for setting it up. This will help us preserve what we can. Excuse me."

You and Hotch slip inside the tent where Spencer is. He's examining the bone fragments under a microscope to see if he can determine a timeline, if there is one to be found. Even from looking at it, you can tell some of these bones are really, really, old.

"You know, based on the parasites on the most recent kill, the unsub killed as recently as a month ago, which means he's still active."

"How did you establish a timeline so quickly?"

"By reverse engineering mother nature. Each year, sand and sediment cover up the remains, creating layers on the ocean floor."

"That makes sense," you say. "The deeper the pump dug, the older the remains. Nine victims in nine years means that he's in control of his urges."

"Did you make any sense of victimology?"

"Only that he likes variety. Pelvic bone width indicates that he kills both men and women, and skull structure says he crosses racial lines as well."

The sides of the tents are clear so you can see JT approach with a grim look on his face.

"Agent Hotchner, excuse me. We found three more remains."

"If he's been dumping this long, it's not just out of convenience. There's got to be an emotional tie as well. He'll change his MO because he has to, but he won't be happy about it."

"Then he'll have the entire Atlantic to choose from."

You snap some gloves on and pick up two bones. Even if a person has been dead for decades, you can still connect to their energies. It won't be as strong as someone who recently died but it'll be there. Energy clings to every single dead person no matter how long they've been gone.

Since the energy is mid at best, only flashes of images come at you instead of a movie about their lives. Images of boats and fish. It's not surprising given where you are. 

"There's a lot of fishing boats around here. It's not that surprising," Spencer says when you tell him.

You leave the tent and find Derek and Ashley talking with the detective. When you told Derek about the syringes, he just about flipped his shit. He doesn't like to see you hurt and the thought of someone you know might be doing this, it pisses him off. He smiles when he sees you but continues talking with them.

"You know, that site is known for record catches of yellowmouth. So, the unsub was smart enough to dump during the off-season and avoid fishermen. He could be local."

"I'm afraid to ask this," JT sighs, "but could this be one of my guys? We run interdiction exercises around that spot."

"No, it's most likely another fisherman."

"How could you know that?"

"I'll show you." You follow Derek into one of the tents where bones are laid out on tables. He grabs one with a gloved hand. "See, he disarticulates the bodies at the joints. It helps them sink. Now, that's a skill that only an experienced butcher or fisherman would have."

"The bone nicks indicate this guy inflicted a lot of pain on his victims, which means he's a sadist," you add.

Derek pulls out his phone and calls Penelope.

"Enchantress of all things possible. Use your imagination."

"Can you enchant me with a list of boat owners in Jacksonville?"

"You know I can, baby. Okay, in Duvall County, we're looking at over thirty-one thousand registered boats."

"Limit that to the boats that can only be operated by one person."

"Okay, I'm going to need a lot more than this to do that. It's still looking like a list that makes War and Peace read like a comic book."

Derek is about to respond when he notices one of the cards that's laid next to a heap of bones. Once they were able to confirm that certain bones belonged to each other, they started putting cards with as much information as they could get about the bones. The one Derek sees says "Victim #5 African American female approx. age, 20s. Died in 2004. Derek goes ashen.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He speaks to Penelope. "Keep me posted."

"Why wouldn't he be okay?" Ashley wonders.

"It's just in cases like these where there are only pieces, it's tough. The best we can do is catalog them and wait for the unsub to screw up somewhere else."

"Do you think he's moved on?"

"If he's smart, he has to. So far, this guy seems really smart."

You look behind you at Spencer who looks more stressed than the last time you saw him. This is an unusual case, you have to give him that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you ask Derek. "You were looking at the card as if you knew who it could be."

"Don't worry about it, okay?"

You nod in surprise. "Okay. I'm going to see if Spencer has anything." You leave the tent and shuffle over to his at the same time as Hotch. "Have you nailed down the victimology?"

"I found a unique evolution, actually. The earliest victims appear to be high-risk." He shows marks on the bones. "These lesions are consistent with syphilis, most likely a prostitute." He points to a skull. "This one has severely ground and missing teeth, commonly seen in excessive methamphetamine abuse. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere, healthier and stronger victims all the way through to number twelve."

"Who do we know about the first victim?"

"That one's tough. He or she has been in the water so long, they're mostly bone fragments. I can attempt to reconstruct--"

"You've got three hours," Hotch cuts him off.

"I can do it in two."

"Make it one."

You pat Spencer's shoulder as a way to comfort him, but if anyone is going to get this done in an hour, it's Spencer. You and Hotch join Rossi's side who is staring at the news vans on the other side of the beach. They essentially haven't left since the police department decided to make the beach their home base.

"How much has gotten out?" you ask.

"Can't tell. Some of these news crews are national. If the unsub doesn't know we found his graveyard yet, he will soon."

"Then we'll hear from everyone who's ever filed a missing persons report."

"Maybe we can use this to our advantage. I could talk to them. It might feed his ego and take the sting out of him losing this site. It could keep him in the area."

Hotch calls for a press conference which is pretty easy since all the news reporters are already in the area. It's not hard for them to air what Hotch has to say.

"At this moment it would be premature to comment on the details of the case. Our goal is to identify the recovered remains as quickly as possible for the families involved. In order to expedite that, we're asking that the families or friends of people who went missing on the East Coast of the United States since the year 2000 come forward. We'll be matching DNA to the remains, and it will be helpful for us to have a personal item from each of the missing persons. An article of clothing, a hairbrush, a blanket, a pillowcase, photographs, or medical or dental records if you have them. We're also looking for items of significance to help us determine the last known whereabouts of each of the victims. Correspondence like letters or emails will be helpful."

Derek's phone rings and he takes the call off to the side. Normally, this wouldn't get your attention but you can feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves. Whoever he is talking to, he doesn't have good news for him.

"Is he okay?" you ask Rossi. "I saw him looking at one of the cards by the bones like he might know who it is."

"Some years back, Morgan's cousin fled a stalker. She made it to South Carolina. She was never seen or heard from again."

"Was it the stalker?"

"He killed himself two weeks later, so we never found out for sure, but Morgan's profile led straight to him. So, whenever unidentified female remains turn up... He gets that call."

You wait until Derek is off the phone before you approach him.

"Hey, slugger." He looks at you. "How are you doing?"

"I could be better."

"Can't you run the DNA of your cousin to confirm if that's her or not?"

"It's not," he shakes his head. "My aunt is in denial. She was her child, and she refuses to think anything else. She still thinks she's alive."

"She might be. A mother just... knows sometimes." Derek nods and sighs. "If you want my help, I'm more than happy to look into it for you."

Derek pulls you in for a hug. "Thanks, mama."

Due to the press conference, a ton of people came forward in the hope their missing loved ones were one of the ones who washed up. Derek and Ashley go to the station to talk to them while you check to see how Spencer is doing.

"How are you doing?"

"On this first victim, the more I work on this skeleton, the more I question its condition. The ocean floor preserved the other remains remarkably well. I think something else caused this."

"Could this be the age of these bones as opposed to the others?"

"Well, he's significantly older. Arthritis in the joints puts him in his late fifties, but that doesn't account for this degree of breakdown. In fact, nothing in the ocean would."

"If the unsub's responsible, maybe he didn't disarticulate this victim but tore him apart instead."

"Look at this." Spencer picks up a bone. There are several knicks on it like it was hit by something. "This bone has a defensive wound like he held it up before the blow came down. I think the bone-smashing occurred while the victim was still alive. He worked out a lot of aggression on this victim. He didn't do that with the others. That would indicate a personal relationship."

"Maybe a father?"

"That would be my guess and not a good one based on the low calcium levels consistent with alcoholism."

x

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[ofwhimsicaldreams]

it is resurrection day for jesus and for my windows, that i finally got around to clean

[fingertipsmp3]

They need to invent a knitting socks that doesn’t make me want to stab myself in the eye

[arietem]

take it off me

masterlist

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj pays you a visit after hanging out with the boys and sees you wearing his shirt

smut and suggestive content

Early June on the island was your favorite time of the year. The weather was starting to get warm enough so you could go to the beach, and the tourists were not swarming the island just yet. You didn’t need to be at your summer job at the resort for another week, so hanging out with your friends was a must until then. These days, though, you couldn’t get your hands off one of your friends in particular. Well, not really a friend anymore, was he? It was safe to say he got promoted to boyfriend status.

Just over a month ago, you asked JJ if he would finally make his move or if you had to do all the work. Honestly, before you even finished the sentence, his lips were on yours, and as they say, the rest is history. And boy, is there a lot of that between you two. All those years of friendship culminated in a whirlwind of love and affection.

The night was one of those rare ones when he was hanging with the boys in the chateau and you were in your own home. It was warm and serene, with a light breeze making your curtains flutter. You were sitting in your comfy armchair in your room, journaling your thoughts, when you heard strange sounds coming from outside your window.

“Psst! Hey, psst!”

You weren’t really surprised that he decided to ditch John B and Pope and come see you. He couldn’t keep his hands off you either. You left your journal on the chair and stepped outside to lean over your balcony. “What are you doing here, JJ? Aren’t you with the boys?” He was looking so yummy, with messy blonde hair and a mischievous grin on his face.

“We were drinkin’, playin’ some card game Pope wanted, Ion kno’. They are passed the hell out, and I came to see m’girl.” You realized he was talking a little slurred now. “JJ! Tell me you didn’t drive your bike here!” You were gonna kill him if he was playing like that. He knew you hated drinking and driving.

“Nah, mama, I walked. Scout’s honor,” he said and threw up a peace sign. “Give me the ladder now.”

“That’s the wrong sign, but sure. Here you go, Jay.” You tossed him the rope ladder you kept stashed on your balcony for situations like this.

“You’re lucky my parents’ room is on the other side of the house.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He was slowly making his way up the ladder, trying really hard to keep his balance. “A lil’ help, maybe?” He reached a hand out for you to assist in pulling him up over the railing. He stumbled a little when he jumped across, but you grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

“Oh, baby,” he sighed and buried his fingers in your hair, “I missed ya.” He was never so affectionate when you were with the Pogues, and you didn’t mind it, not really, but it was nice hearing those words every once in a while. JJ rested his forehead on yours and gave you a peck on the nose.

“Okay, beer breath, let’s go inside.” You stepped into the room with JJ in tow and flicked on another soft light. He sat on the edge of your bed, watching you tie your hair in a messy bun.

“Wait, is that my, is that my Pookie shirt?” he pointed to your chest. You looked down to see what he was talking about. You didn’t even realize it was that one, you simply grabbed the first one out of your drawer. “Oh, yeah, I guess you left it here the other night. I’m sorry, I can give it back.” You were so used to smelling him on yourself and your clothes that it became a part of you.

JJ’s jaw was slack, eyes glistening in the soft light of the room, breeze from the open balcony rustling his hair gently. “C’mere,” he beckoned you with his pointer finger. You obliged and settled between his thighs, interlocking your hands behind his neck. He definitely sounded more sober now.

“You’re gorgeous, ya know that? The hottest girl on the island.”

You weren’t wearing any pants and JJ slid his palm under the shirt, squeezing your ass.

“Yeah, the hottest? What about the smartest?”

“I dunno about all that, you are slummin’ it with me.” You smacked his shoulder lightly. “Kidding, kidding,” he laughed, bringing his hands up your back under the shirt, “the smartest and the hottest girl in all of Outer Banks.”

Didn't that sound so good coming from him? You brought your lips to his forehead, letting yourself stay still for a second, breathing in his smoky scent, the familiar sensation of excitement creeping up your spine. JJ let himself fall backwards on the bed, pulling you with him. Sprawled across his chest, you could hear his heart beating fast. He slowly took off your shirt over your head, leaving you topless. You shivered despite the warmth and went to return the favor, running your nails over his abs. Goosebumps erupted all over his golden skin.

You bent down to lick his happy trail, the hair there faint and soft. JJ gasped and bucked his hips upward. "Oh, baby, the things you do to me." You just grin and continue kissing your way upward to his face.

"Let's get you out of these shorts, pretty boy, huh?" He jumped up from the bed, hopping on one leg while he tried to get out of his pants. "Stop! You're gonna hurt - "

You didn't even get to finish your sentence, and JJ was on the floor as he tripped over his feet. "JJ!" you keeled over with laughter, extending a hand to help him off the floor.

"All good, cupcake." JJ dusted off his hands and dragged you towards the bed, pulling you onto his lap. "Now, where were we?"

He started kissing your neck, eliciting soft moans from your lips. He made you feel so good, you wanted to give him some of that in return. You slowly stood up and walked backward. Giving him a wink, you sank to your knees and grabbed his thighs. JJ leaned on his elbows, watching as you slowly lowered his boxers and let his dick sprang free. It smacked him in the stomach, making you drool a little bit.

"All this just for me?" you asked with awe. You spit in your hand, spreading it all over his cock, making it slick and ready for your mouth. JJ groaned when you palmed him with one hand and went for his balls with the other. You wanted this to take as long as possible, making him as hot and bothered as possible. You gave him a tentative lick, at which JJ moaned harder, making you smile against his dick. You took his tip inside your mouth, gradually going deeper and deeper.

When he was as deep as you could take it, you hummed lightly and stuck out your tongue. He rewarded you by whimpering loudly and tangling his fingers in your hair, making your bun even messier. You bobbed your head up and down, gagging every time he touched the back of your throat. JJ loved hearing your gags, grunting every time you did it.

Your eyes started to water, and you could tell JJ was close to finishing. He sat up, knocking you slightly off balance. With a loud pop, you released him from your mouth and looked up at him. He wiped under your eyes with his thumbs, brushing away the tears. And probably smearing your mascara even more. "Oops, I made it worse." His voice was gravelly and lust-filled. You just rolled your eyes and pushed him back, ready to bring him to the finish line.

[twovialsofamortentia]

a woman, not a wife. 💍

a/n: when i’m in a yearning competition and my opponent is james potter. this WRECKED me to write i was giggling kicking my legs screaming.

🎧 midnight rain - taylor swift, haunted- beyonce

warnings: smut, mdni, everyone is 18+, unprotected sex, breeding IM SORRY IT JUST HAPPENED, james is the giver (he gets the job done), mentions of james’ mental health being poor, mentions of not eating (nothing ED related)

You loved spring. Being born in late March would do that to you. You loved your birthday- well, you had done. Your whole life. Now, everyone was always weird to you about it, because it was the day before James’.

You had tried and failed at not thinking about James. Reminding yourself that you had broken up and that he definitely didn’t care anymore was usually enough for you. Sometimes it wasn’t, though, and you found him worming his way back into your head before you could stop it.

You shook your head to physically derail your train of thought, gazing out into the courtyard, perched in one of the sills that separated it from the busy corridor. You could hear people passing behind you, but you were focused on the grass just mere feet away from you. How it was constantly growing, getting better. Moving on from being cut. Even when the wind blew so forcefully that the flowers didn’t survive, the grass remained, secure in itself. You cursed yourself for envying grass.

While you were wishing you were a plant in the courtyard, James had been watching you gaze out of the window for a minute or so. He was meant to be on his way to potions, a lesson you were both supposed to be in, but was taking a short detour.

“You go,” he told the boys, who sighed at him and looked between one another, knowing it was no use.

“Hopeless twat.” Sirius told him sympathetically, but the three boys left anyway.

James was lost in thought about you. His mind was going over every memory he had of you, the sound of your laugh, the way you always had a story to tell, the way you just knew him. And how he now missed it all, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

Once you had finished moping about the grass being less of a sappy idiot than you were, you turned around to stand up. Your eyes were on your feet, at first, because it would be just your luck if you tripped and laddered your new tights, and you were clumsy.

When your gaze came up from the ground, they landed on James, who was looking at you. Every so often, since you had gone your separate ways, he would catch your eye and you’d forget, at first. You’d go instinctively to smile at him, or to reach out and push the stray hairs from his face, then remember it wasn’t your place anymore.

You stood still, fingers tightening around your bag so you didn’t drop it and make yourself feel even more stupid, and swallowed deeply.

James felt a pang in his chest every time you caught eyes now. A reminder that you were no longer his- that the two of you weren’t what you had been so sure would last forever. He hated it.

James shoved his hands into his pockets, for fear that if he didn’t he would reach out for you, take you by the hips and pull you flush against him so he could lean down and press a kiss to your forehead.

Instead, he opted to smile at you. It wasn’t a conscious choice to do it, but James told himself that was all he was allowed to do. Not one of his cocky, playful grins, though. A soft one, one like he used to give you when you’d tell him off for kissing you in a room full of people, or when you’d roll onto your front in the morning, prop yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him with tired eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” you replied, stunned. You were unsure of whether it was the sun beating down on your back that was making you clammy, or the fact that James was stood in front of you, like he had a million times, and neither one of you was moving to touch the other. To be closer, never close enough.

He couldn’t tell if the feeling in his gut was desire or frustration, because James wanted nothing more than to touch you, but he couldn’t. He elected it something so, so much worse- unrequited love.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“Are you-“ you tried, but the words died in your throat, because they weren’t even close to what you wanted to say. “Are you alright?”

The same question you would ask James every time he’d turned up to your dorm, sat on the edge of your bed, staring at his hands while you rubbed small circles into his back and encouraged him to talk about it. Every time you caught him pushing a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots, an indicator he was stressed. Every time you’d prefaced the words with ‘oh, darling.’ as you pulled him into your embrace, running your hands soothingly up and down his arms.

“Yeah.” he said finally. “You?”

You nodded, because if you had spoken your answer, it would have been a dead giveaway that you were lying.

Your heart hammered as you stared back at James, because you knew that if he didn’t say something mean to you, you’d start getting ahead of yourself again, and convince yourself it was all just a horrible dream- that you wanted the same thing, that nothing had changed, and the three weeks you’d been apart never happened.

A part of James hated himself for making you nod, instead of hearing that you were fine in your voice. Your voice, because if there was one thing of yours that he couldn’t get enough of, it was your voice. Soft and melodic, always laced with a touch of sarcasm, even when you had just woken up and were trying to blink the sleep from your eyes.

But he couldn’t afford himself that luxury anymore. So he stood where he was, watching you carefully, almost as though he was searching for something in your eyes.

“Did you have a good birthday? Last week?” James asked, because he really did want to know. He’d spent the whole day minding his own business, not causing any trouble or drawing any attention to him, so that you could have it the way you wanted it, somewhat normal in the midst of all this mess.

“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, looking at the floor for a second. Your birthday was an odd occasion, because the girls tried to make it extra special for you. As if one day of being back around everyone else would make you forget that you had ruined every a fortnight before. That the next day, you’d wake up at a sensible time, instead of at the crack of dawn to sneak into James’ dorm and vow to make the whole day about him.

“Did you?”

James remembered those days, when you dragged him out of bed before anyone else was awake, with your fingers wrapped gently around his wrists and a sleepy smile on your face as you climbed onto his bed.

‘Get up now if you want to eat your birthday cake for breakfast.’ you would say, taking his face in your hands.

“Yeah, it was alright.” James said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile at the memory of you. “Didn’t eat my cake at the crack of dawn, though.”

“Why not?” you let a smile spread across your own lips, now, as you let go of your bag, dropping it onto the floor with a quiet thud- a giveaway that you were relaxing, finally.

“Because I didn’t have you waking me up at five o’clock.” James said, and it came out slightly more poignantly than he had intended at first. “I thought about it, though.”

“You should have,” you shrugged, still smiling softly. “I actually thought about waking you up, but- didn’t want it to be… weird.”

“You should have.” James echoed your words. Should have seemed to be the dominant theme, at the moment, and James found himself cursing every should have- every time he walked past you and should have said hello; every time you asked him if he was alright and he should have said no, this is torture, please come back to me.

You giggled shyly, looking away from James for a second, feeling the need to focus your gaze somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t a six foot tall reminder of the worst loss you’d ever suffered.

“Okay.” was all you said, smiling. “Are you going to class?”

James caught the quick glance you had spared at the floor, and wanted nothing more than to reach out and lift your chin up with his fingers, to force you into looking at him again.

He just shook his head at your question instead.

“I have to see Poppy.” James replied, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than he ever had to admit something to you. “You know-”

“Yes. I know.” you smiled sympathetically. James frequented the hospital wing almost as much as Remus did. He’d always been candid with you about his mood, because sometimes you worked under Madame Pomfrey at the weekends, since you wanted to pursue a career in healing.

Depressive, she called him, but you thought that made James sound a bit more mopey than he was. Apparently that was the proper term for it.

You were worried about James as of late, not knowing the toll that breaking up would’ve had on him. It was a habit of yours to ask him frequently how things were, because you didn’t quite understand, at first, but you wanted to.

“How are you coping?”

“Like complete shit.” he laughed, but there was no humour in it at all. James ran a hand through his hair again, looking down at you.

“No-” he started, biting the inside of his cheek. “No, it’s been-”

He felt a lump forming in his throat, because James had never struggled to talk to you before, and now he was struggling to get a single sentence out.

“Oh, James.” you replied, trying and failing to drop the sadness from your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” he murmured, because he didn’t want you to blame yourself. “I understand, it’s- we want different things.” James took a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to calm his racing heart, especially not when you were looking at him like that- like you still loved him.

“Yeah.” your gaze drifted to the floor as you said it.

Three weeks ago, when you sat on James’ bed crying your eyes out, you both came to the conclusion that maybe you just wanted to go different ways with your lives. James wanted it all, a massive wedding, a house like his parents’, a football team of kids.

You wanted life: travel; a career; love that grows and strengthens over time, instead of exploding like a firework- pretty at first, but sure to fizzle out eventually.

It had never occurred to either of you when you sat there in the middle of the night- bed curtains closed, window curtains open, wiping each other’s tears away- that maybe you could have had both. Since then, because all you had done was think about James, the thought had crossed your mind a few times, but you pushed it out, because you had missed your chance. The deal was done.

As much as he wanted to spend forever staring into your eyes, James knew that if he did, he might say something he regretted.

So James stayed silent for a couple of moments, his gaze focused on you. He took in the way you chewed lightly on your lip, how you rubbed your palms against your skirt- all things you did when you were nervous.

“There was a party- on my birthday.” he said finally, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You should have been there.”

“I was.”

James looked at you like you’d just stabbed him.

“I spent the whole night miserable in the windowsill.” you laughed dryly. “You looked like you had fun. That was all I wanted, just to make sure- make sure you were okay. And you were.”

James nodded, and it was his turn to shift his gaze to the floor. Okay was the general consensus at the moment, but okay didn’t mean good, or happy, or coping well, it just meant not completely coming apart at the seams.

Even then, okay felt like a bit of a stretch for James. He was good at putting it on, coming off as confident when he didn’t feel it.

“I was pretending.” he admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels, gaze still on the floor.

You nodded, reaching down to grab your bag from where you’d dropped it by your feet.

“I know.”

James just watched you as you picked your bag back up, a mix of irritation and despair rising rapidly in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you to yell at him, to kiss him, to just do something.

“Where are you going?” he ended up asking.

“Common room.” you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I have a free. I’ll see you, James.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded at your response. Then, just as you started to walk away, he suddenly said, “Wait, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” you turned on your heels, hair fanning out around you as you did.

James took a deep, shuddery breath as soon as he saw you standing there, before deciding that the best course of action was to swallow his pride and just say it.

“I still love you.” he admitted, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I still love you.” you answered, the remnants of a smile on your face. You answered casually, as you used to when James would kiss you goodbye, and tell you I love you, my girl. The words were different, sure. They were evidence of change, of the loss you’d both suffered, but they were said in the same way. Time might have passed, but the love stayed. You knew it wasn’t dissipating any time soon.

“Bye.” you told him, smiling, and then you walked away.

You didn’t see James again until after you had skipped dinner that evening. All of the girls were still down in the hall, so you were alone in the dorm.

The intention had been to put some soft music on and get some homework done, but, as it usually panned out lately, you found yourself laying out on the bed, blasting the record, and thinking about how much you missed James.

Before today, it seemed nonsensical to you to go back to James and tell him you still loved him. That you’d been moping for weeks, a ghost of a girl, desperate to wake up in the morning having dreamed it all.

You had broken up, agreed to go your separate ways, so that was that, whether or not it was the worst decision you’d ever made.

Wait, one more thing.

You felt like an idiot. To be frank, you felt exactly the same way you did when you first got together with James, and Sirius and Remus shoved him through the door of your dorm and slammed it behind them, with a chaste, synchronised “James has something to tell you!”

I still love you.

You didn’t know why you expected James to move on. You could never have possibly pictured him, James Potter, still being hung up on someone three weeks after agreeing to split up. You just assumed that he would stay the way he was, sunshine in a bottle, and you would change enough for the both of you.

But fuck, James was hung up on you.

He loved you so dearly, with everything he had because it was all he had, and he still never felt like it was enough. James loved hard. He loved everyone hard. That was just his way. But you, you were his whole world. His Earth; bringing him in and making him feel grounded. You felt like home because you were his home. You were everything. The whole world. An angel. His angel.

Everything James thought, he showed you. He’d whisper it in your ear in the middle of the night, he’d tell you he thought you were beautiful in front of his friends, he’d grab you and kiss you after winning a Quidditch game, he’d grab you and kiss you after losing a Quidditch game.

Now, though, James had no one to tell it to. Before- when it was okay to love you- he’d have no problem shouting it from the rooftops, but now James wasn’t supposed to love you. He was supposed to leave you, to not look at you and feel as if he were going to burst. James was never one for doing as he was told.

His legs brought him up the stairs before his mind had registered it, and he stopped in front of the door. This time, there was no one to pound on it, to wrench it open and shove James through it, then slam it shut behind him and hold it closed in case he tried to escape.

James was younger- shorter, too, and more naïve- the first time he stood, nervous about whether or not you’d want him to be in love with you. He’d never thought it would happen again.

You sighed when you heard the door, closing your eyes. Your peace had finally been disturbed. It was most likely to be one of the girls, knocking so that they didn’t disturb you if you were crying.

They tried to get you to come down for dinner, but you couldn’t be told. It wasn’t that you weren’t wanting to eat like Lily worried about- Lily was always nervous that her friends weren’t eating well- but because you didn’t have the effort in you to go all the way down and back up. Marlene vowed to sneak you up something good, anyway.

“Come in!” you called, and secretly, you had hoped it was Marlene. There was something about her that was just so comforting when you were upset, even though she was far from it on the surface. The other girls were always soothing and condescending, Marlene only did it when she had to.

When he heard your voice, James sighed. He’d never been particularly nervous to see you before, which is the reason he took a few more moments to open the door, pushing it open, and letting it fall closed behind him, the small click making it sound rather final as it shut.

He was met with the sight of you lying on the bed, hair splayed out around your head as a record blared softly in the background. The way you looked up at the door as it opened made you look so innocent that it broke James’ heart when it was quickly replaced by a look of shock.

“James.” you sat up abruptly, reaching out to twist the dial of your record player, turning it down. It was Lily’s really, but you girls shared everything.

You blinked a few times, trying to establish if this was some sick and twisted candlelight hallucination you were having. As you sat up, you realised it wasn’t, and you felt as if you had been in this situation before.

James stood up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets. He felt stupid and embarrassed, because he suddenly felt like he did a few years ago- terrified of saying the wrong thing and losing his chance.

“Um, I just-” he began, but immediately wanted to kick himself for it not being a witty first sentence.

Concern clouded over your face, and you swung your legs off of the bed so you could stand up. You didn’t cross the room, but you took a few steps away from your bed, stopping a few feet away from James.

“Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, fine.” he nodded, swallowing. “Listen..”

James had never struggled quite like this before. He’d been confident in his entire life- in everything he’d done, and everyone he’d met. His mouth had always run away with him, which was often the butt of a joke from the other marauders, but right now, right here, he felt like a small child. Words were failing him, and James never had trouble with words.

“I’m listening.” you told him gently, nodding softly as you caught his eye. “I’m listening.”

As confident and as cocky as James outwardly appeared to everyone else, the people closest to him knew that every now and then, James needed reassuring. He got in his own head when his feelings were too big to squash down; and sometimes he just needed to talk about it. He didn’t even really care if anyone understood, just as long as they listened.

James took a breath, and you noticed the shake in it as he inhaled. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he couldn’t do it. It was getting increasingly harder to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to love you, not when you were looking at him like you did.

“I know we want different things,” he began suddenly, the words blurting out before he could stop them. “I get that, love, I do. But this is torture.”

You swallowed, dropping your gaze to the floor. It was a while since you’d had the conversation, the I’m not just a wife, I’m a woman, conversation, and it wasn’t one you’d wanted to have again.

“Okay...” you said at first, because James looked like he was gearing up to say a bit more.

James folded his arms, trying to stop himself from fidgeting. He was worried that if he didn’t stop, he’d have to do something more embarrassing than fidgeting, like run and hug you.

“I miss you.” he said, and his voice broke halfway through the simple sentence, the words coming out more desperate than he had planned. “I want a future with you. I- We can make it work. The future I want, and the one you want, we can make them go together.”

“I don’t know.” you sighed, your own voice shaky. “I don’t want to take away your idea of a life because I want something different, that’s not fair. You deserve someone who wants the same thing you do.”

“I know that’s what we said, and I thought it too.” James replied, pushing a hand through his hair and tugging unconsciously at it, a nervous habit of his. “But I’ve gone three weeks without you, love, and it’s been the worst three weeks of my life. You might be absolutely fine, in which case I’ll sound like a complete twat, but I just- you should know. I really love you still.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t quite muster up any words yet, because there was nothing you could say to disagree with James.

“If you say no, I’ll drop it,” James rushed to say. “I swear.” he added, knowing that was a very unlikely outcome. “But..”

You sighed, because it really, really, really annoyed you when James was right. When he read you so accurately that you just couldn’t deny him, you wanted to smack him upside the head. Make him as dumb as he pretended to be.

“I mean, I’m not- I’m not fine,” you began. “But I’m serious about my future. I’ve never been a wife, you know that.”

“I know,” James said softly. He’d been fully aware of the fact that you never wanted to be a housewife, and he’d never expected you to. It was something he loved about you; that you always knew what you wanted and didn’t let anyone sway you. “Darling, I don’t want you to be a wife, just my wife, I just- I wanna be with you. Whatever that looks like.”

The massive bang of the butterfly-cannon went boomf in your stomach, and you closed your eyes, sighing at the feeling. After three weeks of nothingness, loneliness, and moping, you had missed the James Potter Effect like you’d never missed anything before.

It was also very difficult for you to hide the smile that was spreading across your face. You thanked the world it was dark, because it meant James couldn’t see you flushing.

“James-” you began, and the smile just kept growing, as hard as you tried not to let it.

There was a certain pride that came with watching you falter, in a way. James couldn’t help the smirk that spread onto his lips, because he knew- there it was, he’d been the reason for your smile, and the blush that was definitely more obvious than you thought. He had you now.

“I love you.” he said quickly, trying to keep the smile on your face for as long as possible.

“You’re good.” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll hand it to you, you’re good.”

“I know that.” he said, the smile on his face widening at the sound of your laugh. It felt like it had been years since he’d even heard it.

James was filled with a new confidence, now that he knew he’d got you listening. “C’mere.”

You had never been given an instruction that was easier to follow. You stepped forward, dropping your head onto James’ shoulder, still smiling like a schoolgirl, and getting a weird sense of deja vu.

You wrapped your arms around James, and you just laughed against him in disbelief. “I love you.”

“I love you.” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head, and bringing his arms up to wrap around your waist.

James was immediately filled with a sense of relief, a feeling like he could finally breathe again, because there you were, in his arms. He had you back.

You didn’t know how he did it. You didn’t know how he did it the first time round, when he stood rooted to the same spot and asked you if he could give you a hug.

You also didn’t know how he did it just then, but there was just something about James that was so impossible to stay away from. You don’t know why you ever tried.

You just grinned as you let James squeeze you, but then he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

“Hm?”

“Promise me we’ll be smart about this.” James said, pulling his head up so he could look you in the eye. “Promise me we’ll talk about everything, and we won’t avoid stuff, just to save the other person’s feelings, alright?”

“Course.” you smiled, gazing up at him.

“I missed your smile,” he told you, bringing a hand up to cup your face. He brushed his finger over your bottom lip, pulling it lightly towards him slightly. That had been another thing he missed about you- he hated going to sleep without you, that was bad enough, but it had been downright torture not being able to kiss those pretty lips goodnight.

How did he keep doing it?! You felt yourself twitch as James stared longingly down at you, and his words made you laugh quietly and shake your head.

“You are too smooth for your own good.”

“Mm, am I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and tilting his head to the side. He hadn’t broken eye contact once, drinking in all the pretty details of your face. He was sure he’d die if you didn’t kiss him soon.

And you were sure that your knees were going to buckle if James kept talking to you like that, so to stop yourself from hitting the deck, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, kissing him sweetly.

James made the sweetest sound as he felt your lips on his, and he decided he actually didn’t ever want to move again. He’d have been happy to stay that way forever. He pressed soft kisses on your lips, over and over, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Love you,” you grinned against James’ lips. “Missed you. Love you.”

“Fuck, fuck, I missed you.” James breathed, trying to take in the feeling of having you close to him after the time you spent apart. “Don’t- Don’t ever make me go that long again.”

“No, of course not, never.” you told him, running your fingers through his hair as you leaned in to kiss him again- a little more feverishly this time.

James hummed lovingly against your lips, and he could feel his brain stop functioning. It gradually stopped whirring with thoughts, slowing down more and more, and when he reached out to snake his arms around your waist and tug you closer by splaying his palms out across the small of your back, James felt his brain shut off completely.

You weren't far off of total shutdown, and although you could feel the unspilled tears stinging your eyes, and it still felt like there was a catch in your lungs, you relaxed. Instead of running through his hair, your fingers travelled down to fiddle absently with the collar of James' shirt, just tracing over it.

You supposed that you were making up for three weeks of lost time. That was how it felt for James, anyway, who was holding you as if you were planning on slipping away and darting out of the door at any given moment. He was just relieved that he had you back, given that forcing himself up to your dorm to talk to you was him throwing a final Hail Mary at a life with you. James told himself that if it missed, he'd walk away, and that would be you out of his life forever.

He took a moment to thank the stars that it landed. Especially when your hands slid a little further down and started unclasping his buttons.

“Love,” he began, tilting your chin up. “You sure?”

“I missed you very much.” you replied, looking James in the eye with certainty. “I’m sure if you are.”

James couldn’t argue with that, so a smile spread across his face and he reached down to kiss you again, a little bit deeper this time. He pushed his hands under your shirt and spread them out across your waist, tugging you closer.

You took two steps back, hitting the edge of your bed and collapsing onto the mattress with James on top of you.

Your legs parted so that James’ hips could fall into place between them, and you let out a soft sigh of relief at the feeling, after going without it for what felt like years.

James had a strange relationship with sex. Before you, he’d had enough sex to know what he was doing, and for fuck’s sake, he was a teenaged boy, so it felt good. Any time someone breathed in the general direction of his dick, it felt good.

But even though sex for James felt good, and he understood well enough how to do it, it wasn’t until you that he understood why. Why someone might possibly sacrifice their own pleasure for the sole purpose of giving it to somebody else. Why someone might crave the feeling of being so close, so intimate with someone else, and crave it so deeply that it drives them mad.

You do it for love.

Until you, James wasn’t in the habit of doing it for love. But the way that you gazed up at him when he slotted himself above you, the way you pleaded for him to make you feel good not because you wanted to feel good, but because you needed him to be the one doing it, and no one else? That was doing it for love.

“James,” you called softly, snapping James right out of his thoughts as you sat up slightly, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. You leaned up to kiss him, just a chaste peck to his jaw. “Are you okay?”

James just laughed to himself, nodding down at you as he watched you shrug off your bra and toss it onto the floor. He had never been more okay.

“I was just thinking about you.” he admitted, running his hands up under your skirt to hook into your underwear. “How much I missed you.”

You gasped when James slid your underwear all the way off of your legs, and you gasped even louder when he leaned down to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

You tasted every bit as sweet as he remembered, but even then, James swore it was better this time. His hands roamed over your thighs, gripping and digging into your skin as his tongue swirled over your core.

You dropped your head back and shoved a hand into James’ hair, a filthy, almost pornographic moan escaping from your lips.

“Fuck!”

James almost found himself smirking against you as he heard the sound coming out of you, and he tightened his grip on you to keep you still as his tongue worked against your clit, because it had been far, far too long since he’d had you like this.

The first time James ever went down on you was the first time he had ever been down on anyone. When he told you that afterwards, you laughed, because you thought he was joking. That was enough explanation as to how good James was at giving head. He was just naturally a giver.

Your thighs threatened to crush his head as James flattened his tongue against you and began to drag it slowly over your clit, just the way he knew you liked it, almost immediately.

“James- oh, fuck,” you cried, dragging your hips away from his mouth and then bucking them up again, almost fucking yourself against his tongue.

James took this as a challenge, and pressed the palms of his hands to your waist to hold you down stop you from doing it again, and instead, he began sucking on your clit, desperate to hear you whine.

You gasped, hips snapping upwards at the feeling, but you weren’t given ample time to react to it, because you were then ambushed with two fingers sinking into and curling sharply upwards, hitting the right spot inside of you instantly.

“Fucking hell!” you gasped loudly, your back arching off of the bed.

“Yeah?” James smiled against your core, laughing teasingly and sending vibrations rocketing up through you at lightning speed, which made you moan noisily again. With the hand that wasn’t pumping two fingers in and out of you, James reached under your thigh to hook it over his shoulder so that he could press himself even closer up against you.

He elected to sacrifice being able to breathe properly. Really doing it for love.

“Yeah!” You clenched your jaw and squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling short, sharp breaths through your teeth. Your chest started to heave up and down quicker, and you could feel the need to tense up growing stronger. You sounded like an angel, and James had never heard a sweeter noise in his life.

His free hand pushed its way up your skirt, and you could feel his hand flatten against your stomach, holding you down gently. You knew what was coming, and you babbled incessantly, trying to get yourself ready for it.

As soon as James pressed down on your stomach, it was like he was flicking a switch. Your vision blurred, and you came, hard, hips juddering upwards, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you all-but screamed, clamping a hand over your mouth as you realised there was no silencing charm on the dorm.

“Fuck-” James hummed against your skin, and he slowly worked you through your orgasm with his fingers, until he pulled them out, bringing them up to his mouth.

Your jaw dropped, your eyes widened, and you forgot all about the fact that you had just came. The sight of James, topless, leaning over you, sucking the taste of you from his fingers? That was enough to soak you straight through all over again.

“Fuck me.” you begged, but it was more of a breathy command than a plea.

James smirked wider, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, still hovering above you on the bed.

“S’that what you want?”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“Course not, angel.” James told you, dipping down to run his tongue, his fucking filthy tongue, over your nipple, making you hiss when the cold air hit your wet skin as he pulled back.

James’ dick was straining furiously against his clothes, so while he was leaving a trail of wet, red marks across your chest, he was popping open the button on his trousers and shoving his boxers down off of his legs.

You closed your eyes, dropping your head back and wondering how you could ever have gotten yourself into a situation so dirty.

Then James rested one hand on your face and slid all the way into you, and you remembered.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” James murmured, as he started to drive his hips against yours. Slowly, at first, knowing you’d most likely be sensitive. “I’ve missed you, angel, so much-”

You moaned, nodding gently as you caught James’ lips in another kiss, humming lowly as you felt him start to fuck slightly faster into you.

“So pretty, my girl, so fucking pretty,” he huffed against your skin, one hand holding himself up and the other dragging slowly over one of your tits, palming it gently. “Missed you so much, never letting you go again.”

James pushed your legs up, bending your knees and leaning over you so that he was fucking you even deeper, all to hear the sound of you underneath him, whimpering because it felt so good.

The record scratched in the corner of the room, next to your bed, and you caught a glimpse of it flipping itself, a spell that you had spent ages trying to master. You still couldn’t get the needle to lift without scratching.

In the few seconds before the record set itself back down on the turntable, and the needle lowered, the only noises in the room were James’ laboured breaths and your rapid, whiny moans.

James barely noticed the record. He hadn’t really noticed much of anything but the feeling of you around him, under him, grabbing hold of him. You were everything.

“Fuck, James,” you gasped. “Love you-“

“Love you- fuck-!” James groaned, driving his hips down against yours once more. “Don’t stop, angel, just- nngh, fuck, keep talking like that-”

“I love you, I love you.” you let the words spill from your lips more times than you think they ever had before, mixed in with desperate mutterings of James’ name, until the words felt funny in your mouth.

“Oh, angel- So good, so pretty-” James gasped after a few more moments, dropping his face into your neck and sucking hard on the skin of your collarbone, because he was starting to feel that familiar tug deep in his stomach- the one that meant that he was getting close.

With the hand that wasn’t keeping himself from collapsing on top of you (which was growing weaker by the second), James pressed his fingers back up against your core, his mouth falling open in sync with yours as he grazed the sensitive area, making you cry out.

It didn’t hurt- well, it did, but it hurt in the way that made you want it more- the way that lets you know that just beyond the pain is a whole new wave of pleasure, one that’s worth the sacrifice. You had crossed the line from overstimulated to purely masochistic, and you moaned loud and rough at the sensation.

“You love me?” James asked, his chest heaving as he gazed down at you.

“Yes, yeah, I love you!”

“You ever gonna leave me again?”

“No, James- fuck! Never. I love you!”

James nodded, leaning back on his knees and hooking his now free hand over your thigh to pull you deeper onto him, his hips driving into you harder every time.

“My girl,” he huffed, staring lovingly down at you through his glasses. Those fucking glasses. They were enough to do it for you alone. “My girl, gonna make you mine forever, gonna come in you, angel.”

Your jaw dropped. All you could do was nod, breaths shallowing even more as James’ fingers starting moving more quickly over your clit, and you felt the same feeling as you had moments ago, but amplified- slightly more tense, slightly harder to chase, but so much better.

A string of moans escaped your pretty lips, and James’ eyes locked onto them, his gaze glued to your mouth as he rubbed at your core.

“You want it, angel?”

“Yes- yes! Fuck, James-!” you gasped, barely able to get the words out as you came for the second time, hips stuttering harder than before, feeling the aftershock hit you sooner than it had the first time round.

James couldn’t have held on any longer if he tried. Not when he felt you clenching around his dick, and crying his name as you came for the second time that day because of him.

“Oh- oh, fuck- ah!” James whined, fucking into you a final time and falling forward as he did, shoving his face back into your neck, breath hot on the skin behind your ear.

You felt the rush of warmth shoot up into you, and it only added to your own high, making it burn from the inside out, warm, and strong.

“Fuck,” James groaned, his head dropping onto your chest, still buried inside of you as he caught his breath.

“Yeah.” you sighed, trying to find your own breath. The only problem you had was the fact that everything that James had just fucked into you was now leaking out, which felt fucking good, but you were also conscious of the fact it was making a mess. “Fuck- hang on, it’s- mmph, getting on the bed.”

James nodded, pushing himself up slightly so he could pull out of you with a soft hiss, flopping down onto his back next to you. He pushed his glasses up, rubbing at his face.

You glanced over at James when he wasn’t looking, and you thank whatever celestial beings had sent him your way. Not just because he was so determined to fuck you right, but because he needed you to know how much he loved you, cared for you, and wanted you. Whilst he was fucking you right.

He was panting slightly, still slightly out of breath, but the smirk on his face showed that he was happy, satisfied. He turned his head, locking eyes with you.

James was just thrilled to bits to have you back in his arms. Just for you to be his again. He wanted to be allowed to come near you without things being awkward, to snake a hand around your waist as he came up behind you in the hallway, to run straight to you with news, or a prank idea, or just to tell you he loved you.

“Still got it.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

James laughed at his own stupid joke, nodding. He pushed some of the hair from your face, and you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach that would arise every time James smiled at you. It was like a strange sort of fluttering, an embarrassingly juvenile feeling, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part one)

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; WELL WELL WELL my angels. we are back with ANOTHER series <3 i am not kidding, this story has had me tossing and turning and screaming and crying. they are such a nuanced duo(even more so than utcf) and if you know me, you know i only write characters that are flawed af and boy… do these two have flaws. also so excited bc my dream is to be a CMO so all that marketing jargon is literally ripped from my real life. this is def a slower burn more than utcf even was, so part one is just getting to know reader, a glimpse into jk and hers future dynamic. it will be giving cocky idol and grumpy girl boss reader… yall hate to see it.. anywho all your love and support is so appreciated and im SO excited to kick this one off <3

playlist here

series masterlist here

You learned at an early age that the world doesn’t hand power to people like you. You have to take it.

Born in Busan, raised in a home where every won had to stretch, you grew up with a hunger that never faded. Your parents worked tirelessly; it was long hours in dimly lit shops, silent tears in the living room over bills, doing everything they could to put food on the table. They wanted stability for you, a quiet life where everything was paid on time and there was no need to chase the impossible.

But you weren’t built for small dreams.

At 17, you won a coveted scholarship to a university in Seoul, a golden ticket out of the cycle that kept your family trapped. There, you became relentless. Top of your class, the kind of student professors whispered about, the one who never failed, never wavered. But no amount of late-night studying or overachieving could buy you the connections that children of chaebol heirs and international elites were born into.

So, you had to outwork them. By the time you graduated, you had one goal: to carve your name into an industry that had no place for you. You moved to America, leaving behind familiarity, comfort, and even your family, knowing that to rise, you had to go where power lived.

New York City became your battlefield.

You started at the bottom, fetching coffees, ghostwriting proposals, working eighteen-hour days just to prove you deserved to be in the same rooms as people who had never known struggle. You didn’t just climb the corporate ladder; you burned every rung behind you so there was no way back down.

It took a decade, but now the plaque hangs on the wall. The name plate rings true of all your dreams. You are the Chief Marketing Officer of Calvin Klein.

At 30, you sit at the helm of one of the most influential luxury brands in the world, the architect of campaigns that have redefined fashion and culture. Your name carries weight in boardrooms, your decisions shift global trends, and every executive in the industry knows you are untouchable.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

In a world like this, power is never permanent. The moment you hesitate, falter, let someone too close, they will take everything.

All that to say — Monday mornings in New York almost always smell like steel and ambition.

The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass walls of your office, the pulse of the city thrumming beneath you, yellow cabs blurring past, heels clicking against concrete, the quiet hum of wealth without ever making a sound. You barely had time to sleep after landing from Los Angeles last night, but exhaustion has never been an excuse.

You straighten your blazer, heels clicking against the marble floors as you stride into the Calvin Klein executive boardroom. The space is drenched in morning light, the Hudson River glinting in the distance, but there’s no warmth. Sharp minds and even sharper tongues, all waiting for you to take your seat at the head of the table.

“Let’s get started.” Your voice is crisp, cutting through the murmurs as the team scrambles to attention. Coffee cups are set down, postures shift. The room belongs to you now, like it always does.

This is your campaign, your bread and butter — the Fall Collection, one of the biggest of the year. And today, the decision needs to be made. Who will be the face of it? You’ve put it off as long as possible, especially after the last campaign that had you sleeping, eating and breathing the word ROI.

A junior executive clears his throat, flipping through a stack of polished portfolios. “We’ve compiled a list of potential candidates. Some of the usual names, established actors, a few models with strong followings…”

You take the folder from him, skimming past faces that blur into one another, all predictable choices, safe bets. Safe has never impressed you.

“We’re not looking for predictable,” you say, voice even. “We need someone who will shift the culture. Someone who doesn’t just wear the clothes, but makes people desperate to buy them.”

Silence. Then, the suggestions roll in. A high-profile supermodel. A rising actor from a Netflix hit. Some European footballer with global appeal.

You listen, nodding as they speak, but your silence is judgment. Each name is good but not enough. Polished and uninspired, in your opinion.

You shoot them down effortlessly. “No. We’ve used her before.

No. He doesn’t have the presence.

No. I don’t need another pretty face.”

The tension in the room grows. The team knows you expect brilliance, not silly little recycled ideas.

Then, your VP of Content leans forward, fingers steepled. “I have a name,” He says, measured, waiting for your reaction.

You lift a brow. “Then say it.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

For the first time, there’s a halt of all noise. Light murmurs. Someone exhales sharply. You hear a scoff from the far end of the table.

“A Korean idol?” One of the senior execs frowns. “That’s a different market entirely.”

“Not just any idol,” your VP counters. “The biggest. Pretty much the frontman of BTS. His brand power is—”

“Unmatched,” You finish for him.

Because it is. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just a name, he’s a phenomenon. A face that sells out stadiums in minutes, a body carved in discipline, a force that transcends the music industry entirely.

Still, the pushback is immediate “Well, he’s never fronted a campaign of this scale.

Idol endorsements don’t always translate to luxury.

Do we want to take that kind of risk?”

Risk.

The word hangs in the air heavily. It should deter you. It should make you pause. But instead, you find yourself a tad intrigued.

What is Calvin Klein, if not bold? If not disruptive? The brand has always thrived on rebellion, on choosing icons that define eras rather than follow them.

Jeon Jungkook is undeniably that. Perhaps, so are you.

You let the murmurs settle before speaking. “What’s our engagement rate from the last campaign?” You ask, looking towards the analytics team.

“Thirty percent growth,” They answer immediately.

“And what’s BTS’s engagement on a single brand mention?”

A pause. A begrudging voice follows, “Higher.”

Exactly.

You glance around the room, seeing the uncertainty and hesitation. You’re about to give a speech greater than LeBron at the NBA Finals. You lean back in your chair, tapping a manicured nail against the armrest, already picturing it, the campaign, the impact, the sheer cultural shift this could create.

“I like it.”

Silence.

A ripple of realization moves through the room, as if with just three words, the decision has already been made.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Securing a global superstar isn’t an easy task, not even for you. The next few days are a relentless blur of negotiations, contract rewrites, and back-to-back Zoom calls with a team so notoriously meticulous it nearly drives your own to the brink of madness.

The stakes are high. Deals like this don’t just happen. They are built, fought for, and secured with precision. And Calvin Klein doesn’t like to lose.

Your office pretty much transforms into a war room. Tables littered with printed pitch decks. Screens glowing with data analytics, engagement metrics, and market predictions. Your executives pouring over legal clauses, revising them so every word is airtight.

In the center of it all, you stand. Any normal human would be threatened but at this point, you’ve gone full robot. You take every call personally. A negotiation of this scale is your battlefield, and you don’t delegate wars.

Jungkook, obviously, is never on the calls. It doesn’t surprise you. Artists at his level rarely handle the business side of things. That’s what agents, lawyers, and managers are for. His team is professional, unshaken even when you push hard.

Still, you know who he is.

Of course you do. You may have spent the last decade buried in boardrooms, but you were born in Busan. You grew up watching the Hallyu wave explode, and though you never had the time for it, your little sister devoured everything BTS.

You remember the way she would beg for concert tickets, how she’d fall asleep with headphones on, listening to their debut on loop. You used to tease her for it— why the fuck are you crying over an idol?

Funny, looking back at it now. Considering that idol’s contract is currently giving you a migraine.

His team is smart. They have demands, and they don’t bend easily. They want creative control over his campaign image. They want scheduling flexibility due to his commitments. They want Calvin Klein to align with Jungkook’s existing partnerships… list goes on.

All reasonable, but not easy. You fight for compromises, push for adjustments, rewrite proposals until every angle is optimized for success. At the end of the day, you know one thing: This deal is worth it.

And then, one morning, before you’ve even had a sip of your morning coffee, it happens. At exactly 7:14 AM, an email lands in your inbox.

SUBJECT: FINAL APPROVAL – JEON JUNGKOOK x CALVIN KLEIN

We are pleased to confirm Jeon Jungkook’s official partnership with Calvin Klein for the upcoming Fall Collection campaign. Thank you for your patience and professionalism throughout the negotiation process. We look forward to working together!

Your eyes flicker over the words. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times before you think you might pass out.

Slowly, a smile curves on your lips. You step out of your office, and before you can say anything, someone sees your expression and knows.

“We got him.”

The room erupts. Your team, overworked and barely running on caffeine, comes alive. Cheers echo through the space, hands slap against the table in triumph, tension melting into borderline euphoria.

They know what this means. This isn’t just a campaign. This is the kind of collaboration that will hopefully bring the brand back to the forefront of everyone’s minds and not in some TJMaxx aisle.

You let them celebrate. You don’t smile often, but today… today, you do.

Just when you think the victory high has settled, a package arrives later in the day for you. It’s a black envelope, embossed with gold lettering. No company branding. No assistant delivery. Just your name.

You open it carefully. Inside is a thick, cream-colored card with an unmistakable touch of handwritten ink.

Thank you for having me.
I’m looking forward to it.
—JJK

You stare at the writing for a beat too long. It’s clean, elegant, but slightly tilted, like the hand behind it didn’t care about perfection. The inked letters feel unexpectedly personal, almost at odds with the meticulous contracts you spent days battling over.

A small, teeny weeny little part of you does wonder… What kind of man is Jeon Jungkook when he’s not just a name on a contract?

You shake the thought away real quick. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the deal is done.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Power has a way of softening the sharp edges of travel.

As Chief Marketing Officer, you rarely have to think about logistics. The world bends to accommodate you with first-class flights, black car service, five-star hotels with skyline views. When business demands your presence in another country, the details are handled before you even lift a finger.

This time is no different.

The moment Calvin Klein secured Jeon Jungkook, it became your responsibility to oversee the partnership firsthand. Deals of this magnitude require your attention, and no one executes anything better than you. So you fly to Korea, fly home. First class as always, because nothing less is expected.

The moment the plane lifts into the sky, you immerse yourself in Jeon Jungkook.

Not the man— you don’t know the man. His brand. The name that moves markets, the face that has sold out entire fashion lines with a single post, the lives that have cleaned out ramen packets in seconds.

Your screen is a kaleidoscope of him, any campaigns, endorsements, past collaborations. Streetwear in one ad, high fashion in another. His presence shifts effortlessly from youthful rebellion to refined masculinity. He is everything Calvin Klein thrives on, raw and provocative.

He’s perfect for this.

You land in Incheon to a city humming beneath dark light. Seoul is quieter than New York, but no less alive with neon signs flicker against sleek glass buildings, the scent of rain and street food hugging the air.

A black car waits for you at the terminal, an assistant from Calvin Klein’s Seoul office greeting you with a polite bow. The ride into the city is smooth, the world shifting past in a blur of muted grays and bright LED screens. Your body is exhausted, but your mind stays sharp.

Tomorrow is the first meeting. You should be thinking about logistics. Contractual points that still need finalizing. The creative vision. The structure of the campaign. But as your car glides past Itaewon’s winding streets, past districts that are both familiar and foreign, you think of something else. You haven’t called home in a while.

You keep telling yourself you’ve been busy with deadlines, meetings, strategy decks stacked higher than your appetite for guilt, but deep down, you know the truth.

You haven’t called because you don’t know how to explain it. How success swallowed you whole, how you traded in your accent for sharper vowels, your mother’s cooking for room service, the comfort of home for the cold glass walls of boardrooms.

What would you even say?

Hi, I made it. I’m tired. I miss you. I don’t know who I am anymore.

It still is the least of your concerns when you arrive to your destination.

Your hotel is one of Seoul’s finest, very discreet, a haven of understated luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the skyline, and the quiet hum of a jazz playlist fills the suite when you enter.

You shrug off your coat, kicking off your heels, stretching out the tension of the flight. Your mind wanders a little as you pour your nightly glass of wine out; you will meet Jeon Jungkook tomorrow. It’s an odd feeling, seeing as you’ve met more celebrities in your life than you can count. You’d be a horrible liar , though, if you said you weren’t the least bit curious.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You wake before your alarm, the hush of Seoul stretching beyond the glass windows of your suite. The city moves gently at this hour before the rush, before the weight of the day settles onto its spine. For a moment, you allow yourself to breathe.

Discipline has always been your armor. You move through the motions with practiced ease, a cold rinse to shake off the last remnants of jet lag, a serum smoothed over skin (Laneige is the only right answer), a swipe of rouge on lips.

And today, more than ever, you need to be impeccable.

Your suit is white, tailored, almost impossible to ignore. It is a statement and a reminder that you are the architect of success.

However, when you step into the elevator, riding down to meet your driver, a flicker of something you haven’t felt in eons settles in your chest.

Nerves.

Not because you haven’t done this before. You have. You’ve met Hollywood A-listers, supermodels draped in couture, billionaires who own entire industries. You’ve handled them all.

It’s just… he does oddly remind you of home in some silly way.

You exit the hotel with the cool breeze of the morning air wrapping around you, the weight of the city’s movement already filling the space between you and the office. The car ride is smooth, twin reflections of New York’s controlled chaos and the quieter energy of Seoul. You barely notice the time passing as you mentally run through the agenda for the day, but there’s something about the looming meeting that sits heavier on your mind than it should.

The Calvin Klein Seoul office is small, nothing like the flagship headquarters in New York. The building is sleek but understated, a space that exists more for logistics than spectacle.

The moment you walk through the glass doors, the energy is so off. Your VP of International Marketing, a sharp-eyed executive named Daniel, greets you immediately. He is already speaking before you’ve fully crossed the threshold or even taken a breath of the office air.

“Everything’s set,” he says, handing you a sleek black folder. “Jungkook’s team will be here in twenty.”

You take the folder, skimming over the notes. “Any last-minute adjustments?”

“A few,” Daniel admits. “His schedule is tighter than expected, so we may need to shift some of the shoot days. And… his team wants final approval on every creative decision.”

You glance up at him, arching a brow. “They don’t trust us?”

“They trust us,” Daniel says, lips twitching. “They just trust him more.”

Fair. You figured they would play dirty at some point.

You nod, flipping the folder shut. “We’ll make it work.”

Daniel studies you for a beat, then smirks. “You nervous?”

You don’t hesitate. “No.”

You’re not. Not exactly. But as you settle into the conference room, as the clock ticks down to his arrival, you can’t shake the deadweight sitting on your chest. There’s not really a reason to be nervous, but suddenly, the fact that you sit at the head of the desk taunts you. It feels too official,, like every choice you’ve ever made has led to this exact chair, under these lights, and now everyone’s watching.

Daniel chuckles, stepping in behind you. “No need to act cool about it. I mean, dude is literally the most famous guy out there right now.”

You glance up at him. “Right,” you reply, settling into a chair at the table. “Do I give off fangirl vibes?”

“Fair play,” Daniel admits with a smirk. “It is also just business. He’s a client like any other.”

You raise an eyebrow, his words hanging in the air. “Sure,” you say, but something about the way you says it doesn’t quite feel right.

Daniel leans against the conference table, watching you with an expression that borders on amusement “So,” he muses, “are you ready to meet him, or are we keeping up this whole pretend you don’t care act the entire time?”

You shoot him a flat look, arms crossed. “I don’t pretend.”

He smirks. “Right. You just happen to be checking your watch every five seconds like we’re waiting for the President of South Korea.”

You exhale sharply, smoothing out an invisible crease in your sleeve. “You know I don’t care about the celebrity. I care about if my boss is happy.”

Daniel hums, unconvinced. “Riiiiight.” He tilts his head, watching you for another beat before flipping open a portfolio. “Alright, boss, walk me through it one more time. We’re running with the—“

Before he can finish, a soft knock at the door interrupts. The secretary peeks her head in, voice all smooth and professional. “He’s here.”

The words settle over the room. Daniel straightens up, giving you one last knowing glance before both of you move toward the head of the conference table. Your posture is perfect, composed, the picture of an executive who has done this a hundred times. Yet, for some reason, your palms are a little sweaty.

The door opens. A quiet hum of conversation drifts in first, footsteps soft against polished floors. And then, he steps through.

The first thing you notice is that he is not what you expected. Or maybe, he is exactly what you expected. Tall, poised, effortlessly self-assured. He moves like someone accustomed to attention, yet unaffected by it, a presence that doesn’t need to demand the room because it already bends to him.

He is dressed in black from head to toe. Black jeans, a crisp button-up slightly unfastened at the top, revealing the barest hint of a toned chest beneath the collar. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing a canvas of tattoos that swirl down one of his arms. Dark hair falls just over his brows, parted slightly. His skin is flawless, his lips full and plush, but it’s his round eyes that capture you first.

He has piercings, small silver hoops glinting in his ears, the metal just barely catching the light. And then, as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, you notice it, the piercing there, too.

You inhale, the moment stretching far too long.

Jungkook’s team follows behind him, a carefully curated group of managers, assistants, and legal representatives. They all exude efficiency, dressed in business casual

Jungkook is not corporate. He is the complete fucking polar opposite of it. And yet, as he steps forward, his expression shifts, a polite smile.

He greets everyone kindly, taking the time to nod toward the executives flanking the room, shaking hands, offering soft pleasantries.

You are still staring. For the first time in your career, you cannot decide if the man standing before you is a masterpiece to be marketed or a storm brewing.

You need to get a grip on reality.

Jungkook’s gaze is assessing, but you don’t let it linger. Years of discipline have trained you to absorb impact, analyze it, and move forward. So you shift your attention to the team standing behind him, your posture sharpening as you step forward.

“Good morning,” you say smoothly, extending a hand to the first of his representatives. “I appreciate you all taking the time to meet today.”

His manager steps forward first, shaking your hand firmly. “Of course. We’ve been looking forward to this partnership.”

One by one, you go through the motions, firm grips, polite smiles, nods exchanged. These are the gatekeepers, the ones who make the real decisions behind the scenes. You commit each of their names to memory, cataloging their expressions, their temperaments.

You turn lastly to Jungkook, your expression unreadable. His lips are still curled in a faint smile, but you keep your own face neutral. Instead, you bow, just a crisp nod of acknowledgment.

"Jeon Jungkook-ssi," you say, voice poised. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

When you straighten, you see it, the flicker of amusement crossing his face. He tilts his head, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek before speaking. “The bow? That’s formal. Are we at a company dinner?”

A few quiet chuckles from his team. You refuse to laugh. Your expression remains steady, composed. “It’s standard when meeting someone for the first time.”

Jungkook watches you for a beat longer, as if testing to see if he can break through that calm exterior. But when you don’t waver, he simply lets out a quiet hmm, not quite disappointed or impressed.

“Now, let’s get started.” You step toward the table, signaling the meeting’s shift into motion. “We have a lot to go over, and I want to make sure we’re aligned on the creative direction before we finalize schedules.”

Jungkook’s team follows, the atmosphere shifting from introductions to strategy.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” you continue, placing a sleek, black folder on the table, “this campaign is projected to be one of Calvin Klein’s biggest of the year. Our goal isn’t just to market a collection, we want to shape a cultural moment. With Jungkook’s presence, we have the ability to move beyond traditional advertising and into something far more influential.”

You feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you focus on his team, keeping your voice measured and confident. “I know negotiations took time, but I want to personally express my excitement for this collaboration. We’re not here to simply slap a face on some storefronts… we’re here to build something iconic.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, arms resting casually against the armrests. “Iconic, huh?”

You glance at him for a second. ���That’s the standard.”

The meeting stretches into deep discussions and strategic analysis, the campaign unfolding across the polished mahogany of the conference table. You lead with precision, breaking down creative direction, discussing visual aesthetics, mapping out timelines with a ruthless efficiency.

Jungkook listens. Not just politely, not just because he has to, but the man actually listens.

You notice it in the way his eyes sharpen when you speak, the occasional flick of his gaze to the proposal documents, the way he leans forward slightly when something actually interests him.

“So, to sum it all up,” you continue, flipping a page, “this campaign will lean into Calvin Klein’s signature branding but with a more modernized edge. We’re emphasizing raw masculinity, effortless sensuality—”

“Effortless?” Jungkook interrupts smoothly in a teasing tone. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

You look up. “You disagree?”

He tilts his head, considering. “I wouldn’t call it effortless.”

His voice is casual, but something in it makes the room halt slightly. You set your pen down. “Then what would you call it?”

Jungkook lets the silence breathe, holding your gaze a second longer than necessary. His team shifts slightly, waiting for his response. He smiles “Intentional.”

You hold his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Fair point.”

His lips twitch, like he wasn’t expecting you to concede so easily. But before the exchange lingers, you move forward. “We’ll finalize creative direction by next week. In the meantime, we’ll align schedules for fittings and shoot dates…”

By the time lunch rolls around, the energy in the room loosens slightly. It’s quite clear everyone is exhausted and would rather be two courses deep into a meal now. Jungkook’s team begins gathering their things, murmuring about reservations at a nearby restaurant. Daniel gives you a glance, knowing better than to invite you along.

You never take breaks.

As the last few executives file out, you remain in your seat, flipping through campaign notes, already highlighting sections for revision. The door closes behind them, leaving you alone in the quiet of the conference room.

You barely have a minute to yourself before a soft knock echoes through the space. You glance up, expecting Daniel, but instead… Jungkook.

He lingers in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans. His expression is unreadable, but he’s unmistakably casual in the way he stands there, like he has all the time in the world. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitate. You have no idea why. It’s not that uncommon to be friendly with the campaign faces. You actually really liked working with Kendall Jenner, with her even inviting you to her home in Calabasas.

You study him for a moment, the way he leans against the doorframe, his presence too large for the quiet of the conference room. With bated breath, you gesture toward the chair across from you. “Suit yourself.”

Jungkook steps inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty space. His gaze flickers over the neatly stacked papers, the highlighted notes, the sleek silver pen in your hand.

“You don’t take breaks?” He questions innocently, lowering himself into the chair.

“I don’t have time for them. And I assume you don’t either, considering you’re here instead of at lunch with your team,” You retort.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually crack a smile once everyone left.”

A slow, teasing grin tugs at his lips. “So far, not looking too good.”

You exhale through your nose, unimpressed. “Was there something you needed?”

Jungkook leans back, the crisp fabric of his shirt stretching over his frame. He looks at you, not in the way men usually do, not with arrogance or expectation, but with a calculated curiosity. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Great. You have an observer on your hands.

You blink once. “I don’t have to like you. Not in my job description, unfortunately. ”

His grin widens, slow and deliberate. “So cold. I think I like it.”

Your jaw tenses, but only slightly. He catches it. Most people flinch under scrutiny, but you don’t. You don’t shift, don’t fumble, don’t drop your gaze. Instead, you meet his stare with the same measured indifference you give to 55-year old men.

“Flirting with me won’t get you special treatment.” Your voice is detached, cool as a cucumber.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, “Who said I was flirting?”

Your lips press into a thin line.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, propping an elbow on the armrest, “I don’t expect special treatment. Just the best. And from what I’ve seen so far…” he nods toward your documents, “…you don’t settle for anything less either.”

You don’t reply, but he’s hit the mark. Jungkook studies you for another beat, his gaze dipping, taking you apart piece by piece and seemingly trying to understand what makes you tick.

You hate to admit it, but he’s sharper than you expected. Most people in his position come into these meetings as faces, not minds. They sign the contracts, smile for the cameras, let their teams do the thinking.

You click your pen once. “If that’s all, I have work to do.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then moves a tad closer, just slightly, enough for you to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne, something clean and subtly musky.

His voice dips lower, softer now, but no less assured. “Tell me, do you always bet on things you know you’ll win?”

Your fingers still against the table. You set your pen down with deliberate precision, tilting your head slightly. “Only when the stakes are worth it.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile. The thing you’ll come to learn about Jungkook is this: the man cannot back down from a challenge. He loves games. Always has

It’s how he got here in the first place. Grit, obsession, the refusal to lose. Every accolade, every headline, every billboard was earned not just through talent, but by the sheer thrill of the chase.

Truth be told, he’s a little.. intrigued, in some weird way. To put it in even more cliche terms, you look like trouble.

And… well, Jungkook has always had a thing for playing with fire.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @koofleur @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[anisangeldust]

Cupids Arrow | S.M.

Summary: After falling pathetically in love; Sam Monroe decides to give Valentine’s Day a chance.

Pairing: Sam Monroe x popular!Fem reader

Warnings: annoying Sam, use of “faggot” (in a playful way) and “gaybo” (derogatory), lwk self loathing, loser in love Sam, kinda a heavy make out sesh, semi public smut, dry humping, premature ejaculation ? Whimpering Sam, reader teases him and he gets off on it.

A/N: this is lwk self insert and I’m not ashamed abt it. Also I lwk hate it but wtv :( happy vday!!

“Naw bro, she’s fine as fuck” Josh nudges his friend as you walk past. You’d switched high schools and joined the previous semester. It’s as if you were an overnight success, fresh blood, pretty face, and rich parents, a recipe for being the top of the social ladder.

Even sad, mopey, emo Sam Monroe wasn’t immune to your charm

“Fuck off dude, she’d never go for you. You look and act like a faggot. She needs a strong man.” Josh’s friend flexes and raises his eyebrows up and down at you. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued walking to class.

With a scowl, Sam’s eyes followed the whole interaction. What of you did want him? Why did he care? Sam didn’t want you, or your preppy attitude, you fluffy hair that fell above your boobs, your low rise Abercrombie & Finch jeans that barely pass dress code— No. No. He didn’t care about or notice you. You or your big eyes and full lips— No.

And he especially didn’t notice you or the way his heart rate sped up when you smiled at him.

——

If there’s one thing Sam hated more than his father it was P.E. You were the only thing that made the class tolerable. Except he didnt think that because he barely noticed you or your teeny Juicy Couture shorts at all.

Even worse than P.E. (And Sam’s dad) was dodgeball. Fuck dodgeball. Sam thought as he stood in the corner of the gym and watched all the popular guys peacock for your attention.

A star ball hit Sam in the face, and the accompanying voice of one of the jocks followed “you’re out gaybo! Sit the fuck down!” And Sam rolled his eyes, sitting down as he flipped off the guy.

Like a guardian angel sent by a god he didn’t believe in, you threw a ball at the jock and got him out, playfully flipping him off like Sam did.

You go up to Sam and offer a hand. “C’mon, you’re back in. You okay? Looked like a nasty hit.” You smile.

Despite the bit of chill in the winter air, Sam felt a warmth spread across his face. “Yeah no.. whatever. Im good. Im fine” he scoffs, taking your hand to get up and dropping it suddenly when he realizes he just accidentally held your hand

“M’kay” I smile and saunter off to keep playing.

——

“It doesn’t mean anything. Shes nice to everyone” Sam sighs and rubs his face as he and Corey sit in the roof of his station wagon.

Corey takes a long inhale of their shared cigarette “yeah but..” he exhales “she helped you.. or some shit. I don’t know. But I can feel it. She likes you dude” he lays back.

Sam leans back and looks up at the sky, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “Yeah but— fuck man. I can’t just ask her to be my valentine. That’s corny. And she probably has one” Sam sighs

Corey rolls his eyes “does she even entertain the other guys? There’s no harm in asking. Just like, buy her flowers or chocolate or something I don’t know. But ask her” Corey takes a puff.

“Y’know what. Fuck it man. I’ll ask” Sam nods and takes the cigarette, taking a long breath in and letting the exhale dwindle away in the night sky, his mind on you, you and your plump lips..

“Do you think Angel likes roses?” Sam groans

Corey huffs “probably. Get some chocolate too. Shit dude, maybe even a card” he giggles.

——

Walking through the halls of the school had never been so embarrassing. Who did Sam think he was? Using the little bit of cash he had that he’d usually spend on weed for chocolate and stupid flowers? It was too late to back down now. He had to focus.. but even as you got closer he could feel your eyes on him..

Clutching the six roses in his hand, Sam clears his throat to get your attention. “Hey.. uhm— could I talk to you..?” He murmurs and looks around at your friends. Your popular friends, all hanging around your locker. This was a bad idea.

The gentle smile that teased the corner of your lips almost made him forget to breathe “Of course.” You smile and lead him away to a different hallway “we’ll be right back” you look back at your friend then focus on him.

Oh god he was going to do it. “Uhm.. I was wondering if maybe you’d like.. I dunno.. be my valentine?” He murmurs and holds out the roses, opening his backpack and grabbing the chocolate.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, he was so close to just walking away, but the gentle sound of your giggles bring his gaze back. “Of course I will Sammy” you take the gifts “thank you, these are beautiful.

He was shocked. You said yes? This was a joke. A bet. You were just pitying him. “Really?” He whispers, not quite registering that you actually agreed. “Well uhm.. how about I like.. take you to dinner..?” He spews before his mind can catch up with his mouth.

You smile wider “Yes really. And I’d like that.” You take out a notebook and scribble down two things “here’s my number and address. Let me know the details” you kiss his cheek “Bye Sammy”.

He’s eyes followed you like a magnet “See ya..” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to where you kissed him, gently touching the spot with the pads of his fingers.

——

Nervous wasn’t even in the ballpark of emotions he was feeling. This still had to be some elaborate prank, a joke, never mind that he’d called you 3 times and told you to be ready for a dinner he planned, his heart swelling at the excited tone of your voice. You’d stand him up, he’d drive to your house like an idiot and you’d tell him you weren’t serious.

Telling his parents was arguably just as nerve wracking.

<<Hey mom uhm, could you help me.. maybe?>> Sam mumbled to his mother, Robin, as she cooked dinner, her eyes widened in surprise as not only did her angsty son talk to her, but he was asking for help?

She smiled << yeah i suppose.. with what..?>> her tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

Sam shrugged <<I uhm.. like.. maybe have a Valentine’s Day date..>> he cleared his throat and had to stop the smile as his mom rattled on about who you were and then helped Sam with all the details.

Standing at the door of your very nice home, in his only pair of decent dress slacks and a black button down, Sam clutched the bouquet of roses his mom helped pick out and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged woman with sleek brown hair answered the door. “Ah, you must be Sam” she smiles.

Sam nods, running a hand through his black and blue hair “yeah.. that’s me” he gives a lopsided smile “is your daughter ready?” He asks.

“She should be.” Your mom turns into the house “darling! Your dates here!” And the click clack of heels meets Sam’s ears.

You looked stunning. Breathtaking. Sam was flummoxed as he met your gaze. Your dress was a beautiful blush color, and your makeup matched. Sam reminded himself to blink as you approached “Hey.. happy Valentine’s Day” he quirked up his lips and held out the bouquet of flowers.

“These are gorgeous. Thank you” you smile and take his hand, this time on purpose, and walk to his car. Sam opens the passenger seat before climbing in the drivers seat and twisting his key.

Mr. Self destruct by Nine Inch Nails starts to play up again and Sam quickly turns it off “Sorry.. I was uh..” he flushes with sudden embarrassment at his music taste.

You turn the dial back up “don’t apologize. I’d be happy to listen to the music you enjoy” you smile and admire his side profile as he drives, your eyes drawn to the way his hands fiddle with the gear shift, taking in the faint scent of weed that lingers on the leather seats. It was so him, so perfect.

——

The date was perfect. A beautiful awkward mix of Sam’s corny jokes and your elegant aura. It became clear that not only was it not a pity date, but maybe you actually liked him back? He tried not to let himself dwell on the idea. But as the server called you guys “cute” and you just thanked him, Sam could feel himself falling deeper into this boyish crush.

Walking out of the restaurant hand in hand, Sam decided to deviate from his original plan “We should get ice cream. I know this lookout point I smoke at sometimes. It’s perfect for stargazing” the sudden boost of confidence he had talking for him.

“I’d like that a lot” you take his hand and walk to his car.

——

For the first time Sam felt like the universe was on his side. Eating ice cream on Valentine’s Day, sitting in the open trunk of his car with the girl he likes and watching the stars after a successful date, the only thing that would make it better was if he didn’t have a raging boner from watching you lick cream off your lips.

As you got down to the bottom of your cone and started to lick the melted desert off your fingers, Sam wiggled and tried to pull away. But you noticed. Of course you noticed.

“Something wrong?” You look at him and scoot closer.

He swallowed audibly “nothing.. nothing wrong.. I’m great” he shakes his head vehemently.

You lean your head closer, the hot air mingling between you “you sure? You look flushed” you giggle and tease.

He dares to lean in “am not!”

You smile “are too” and then your lips attach. The kiss is heavy, full of Sams insecurity and your desire. His inexperienced tongue moves around your mouth, his pants growing tighter from the taste of your lips.

Climbing onto his lap, you finally see the source of his awkwardness “mmm.. is that what’s wrong?” You tease and gently move your hips over his hard on.

Sam gasps into the kiss, whimpering and letting his mouth part “y-yeah..” he stutters, trying to latch onto his last shred of gentlemanly thoughts.

“You’re so adorable” your giggles make him flushed.

“I’m not adorable.. I’m.. I dunno..” he stutters pathetically, panting into the kiss and bucking his hips up.

You keep moving “pretty sure you are. You’re whimpering like a loser. A cute loser” you kiss and suck on his jaw.

Sam lets out a moan “nuh uh..” he tries for the last time to hold on, but as he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, he’s done for. With one finally little whine, he cums in his pants, bucking his hips up and kissing you.

Both if you look at eachother with wide eyes, the look in his is terrified, the look in yours in playful “did you just..?” And he tears up

“Sorry.. ‘m so sorry.. couldn’t help it..” he pouts and looks at his lap.

You flick his nose to get his attention “I’m not mad Sammy.. that was.. hot” he giggle and kiss him again.

“Hot..?” He mumbles and his hands find your waist.

“And pathetic. Hot and pathetic.” You confirm with a nod of your head.

[phemiec]

A Mouthwashing (and How Fish is Made) fansong, unfortunately from Jimmy’s POV mostly, sorry. 🐴 Music and lyrics by me, PhemieC

NOTE: this is my first fansong in five years, and sad to say but my voice has been decimated by illness in the last few years, so please don’t go into this expecting it to sound the same as my old stuff.

That being said, I have released an instrumental version, and I would LOVE to hear covers from other vocalists! Feel free to post and sell if you make a cover as well. <3

LYRICS UNDER CUT

[verse 1] Momma bird sleeping and her nest is empty Pretty and clean I feel the crease of envy Cutting a line right through the sky above me Healthy and green just like a good tree should be Momma bird leaving now her eggs are lonely Out from the underbrush I creep so slowly I’ll lay my own, her home is sound and safe, he’s Grey like a stone among her round blue babies She’ll never tell if she’s a few shells lighter Quick cracking clever comes my little fighter  Babes that feel safer they hatch so much slower Thrown down below then by my own fast grower Momma returns to feed her only child he Smells like a stranger and he cries so loudly Drinks of his fill while I look up on proudly Picking away at the discarded bounty 

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 2] Thing crawling thirsty, shared flesh, a blessing Drink of my stagnancy, the taste refreshing Carry a part of me and keep on climbing  Top of the ladder’s just a place for dying Dread in your gullet, ignore it, buddy Lead in the bullet, it’s harmless, mostly Let me consume you, let you defend me Curling protector, my friendly fresh meat Im in control now and I like the feeling I’ll play the role of every wound you’re healing Follow the leader was always my thing Swallow your pills and lay still, unwrithing Master of puppets is my one objective Real apex predators can be selective Relay your message, it won’t stop the spread if I replace your tongue when I open your head up

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite keeps you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 3] My stress relief, she keeps asking questions I can’t believe she thinks I’ll learn her lesson Nothing outside of me will ever get in No mocking birdie with an unblinking grin Four beating hooves, I hate to hear them thunder Trample the metal tomb I’m buried under braying beast, neighing in the womb inside her Breaking its legs to glue you back together

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite…

[planetaryupscaled]

Disenchanted

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 6k, cheating, oral, story heavy

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

They say everything happens for a reason, if life gives you lemons turn them into lemonade. It always struck me as a strange saying a little too cut and dry. Like a mantra to lead my life with, it had been an upwards struggle. Devoid of any formal degree, in many respects I was a self-made man, grafting from the bottom of the pile and slowly making my way upwards, to the light, the fabled promised land of success, this is my story.

It was early 2020, still fresh from the Covid-19 meltdown. Looking back on it, we really did make a fuss over nothing, it was world ending stuff. Fresh out of a failed college career I had just turned 20, studies had never really held much of my attention, crashing out a year before graduation. Saying this, I was good at building networks, street smart you could say, I knew a good deal when I saw one and over the years, I would develop the timing and nous to know when exactly to pull the trigger. With a heavy interest in films, my main aim was to get into the industry by any means necessary. Luckily enough for me I knew a few people who were runners on in the SM Entertainment back in the day. The pay was basic if that and the job was menial, filled with odd jobs like fetching coffee or printing out stuffs. Nevertheless, it was a start.

“Seriously, where is that guy? the new runner guy, lanky looking kid,” Shouted the set manager.

“Ahem…” I replied, standing next to the sweaty looking man.

“What’s your name? You know what, it doesn’t matter, get a coffee to waiting room 4, quick kid,” he said, bits of saliva spraying everywhere.

God, I hated that guy, his breath always reeked in a mixture of cheap coffee and banana. Reluctantly I knocked on the door, prepping a fake smile for whomever was going to open it.

“Hey,” A chirpy voice said.

My mouth was lolling open slightly, mouth running dry as I struggled to form a suitable response. She laughed softly at my starstruck reaction, holding out her hand to shake mine. It was Karina. She was most teenagers wet dream, well, technically still is.

She was just as attractive as the in the magazines, her smokey brown eyes complimenting her tight, tone, bronze physique. I felt an instant twinge in my pants as I willed myself not to show my arousal, hoping to od it was not obvious that I was attracted to her. Brushing myself down mentally, I took a deep breath and fixed my shirt holding out hand containing her hot beverage. There was something about her, despite her arresting looks that calmed me. Maybe it was the kindness in her eyes or the kindness in her voice, whatever it was, it worked.

“Your- coffee,” I managed.

“How old are you?” She said, taking a sip of her latte.

“Erm… 20- Miss,” I replied.

“Seriously, call me Karina,” She smiled.

“You are pretty cute,” She followed up, handing me the piece of paper with a list of her requirements.

“From now on, you are my personal runner,” Karina said, high fiving me as she left for rehearsals.

I blushed at the comment, a throw away one at that but at the time, it was like gold dust to me. The piece of paper was basically a shopping list of drinks and snacks to get at what time. It remained this way for a year or so as I watched Karina’s fame sky rocket. It was almost inspirational how she climbed the ladder step by step. At that time, she was dating an actor, Lee Jiwook? Jiwoon? or something, I don’t know. Another forgettable character.

I had a sense that he felt superior to me, which granted at the time, he was dating Karina so one could forgive his arrogance. He was in her changing room on a number of times. There were rumors that they were due to get engaged which turned out to be true one it was released in the press a few months later. He was by all intents an purposes the luckiest guy alive in that moment.

On the rare occasions that we did get time alone, Karina and I talked about everything from our past to future aspirations. She even helped me get back into college, funding part of my studies to get into a foundation business course. It was a difficult time, I had to finish college, which I did with after work classes and after that, moved onto that foundation course. I was indebted to her in more ways than one, but our relationship never threatened to go any further.

Over the year I think Karina grew to see me as a brother of sorts. I mean it was fine, what more could I expect. Saying this, I always held on to that faint hope that we could be more, if only the tables were turned, and I was the rising up and comer, one could only dream.

If only I had known my time with her would be limited, maybe I would have been braver, more forward I told myself. However, it did not pan out that way, as per usual, life throws you lemons, make some lemonades right? Coming into the last few episodes of the final series I made my usual rounds, knocking on her door and entering without a response, only to find Karina scantily clad in a white bra and pair of cotton panties. I did it all the time, just enter and drop off a coffee, maybe have a chat, but this time was different.

“Crap- don’t you knock?!” Karina jumped, covering up her indecency.

“I- I did, I thought- sorry,” I replied.

I managed to sneak a peek at her crotch, sending my desires into over drive seeing her, Karina picked up the plushie, covering her sex. A drop of pre cum leaked my tip as I groaned internally at the visual stimulation. She was hot as fuck I thought in my head, what I would do just to be with her for one night. Regaining composure I chuckled, triggering her to break into a smile also, scrambling to get dressed.

“Nice plushie,” I said, winking at Karina

“Oh, Haha,” Karina replied blushing.

“Your morning coffee Miss,” I said, leaving her daily latte on the table, turning to leave as I closed the door.

That was my last encounter with her as I was moved to another set the day after. If we stayed in touch, it would probably be one of those funny memories we could bring up from time to time but it was not to be. Now in the present, decades later I was suited and booted, ready for my fourth-round interview for a Digital marketing executive role at The Prada Group.

—

“They will have you now,” The secretary called out to me, beckoning me into the conference room.

My hands were steady, nerves of steel. I had interviewed at many companies before, but had a renewed desire to nail this one. I had to; she was the co-founder. The days of being a runner were long gone, as I managed to land a junior marketing role. This however, was my bread and butter, marketing, networking and the like. It was like a hand in a glove, I loved it, and it showed in my work.

Holding my head high, I pushed open the doors, my presentation in hand, ready for whatever they threw my way. Ready for the interview? Yes, but ready for- Karina?! I was not. Under normal circumstances, shareholders would not be part of the interview process. Steadying myself I held out my hand, shaking each interviewer’s hand firmly. There were three, Karina being the last.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said with confidence.

I could see Karina racking her brain as to where she had seen me. The cogs in her head were turning till I saw her face light up.

“Oh my god, Minho!” She said, her face lighting up.

“In the flesh Mam,” I replied.

“Oh, apologies for the lack of professionalism, I worked with Minho...what is it now, Ten years ago?” Karina said, her smile lighting up the room and to my advantage, perking up the other interviewers.

“We can catch up after...carry on with the presentation,” she said beaming.

Unclasping my blazer and setting it to the side I went through point by point my ideas for the new product launch, our target audience, demographic and ways to capture their attention. It was as robust a presentation as I had ever given, leaving very little questions afterwards as the four discussed among themselves after grilling me with queries.

It was a positive sign then that all four were smiling in unison as my hands started to sweat, showing the first signs of how much this job meant to me. It was her presence that threw me a curve ball. After all these years, Karina was still as alluring as ever. If anything, she looked better now than she did when we first met. Now in her thirties, married and with kids, she looked fantastic. I managed to shake my fantasies of once an idol from my thoughts and concentrate on the panel in front of me, glancing at her every so often.

“Listen, we don’t do this regularly, but this interview has been far from the ordinary. Your links with Karina, coupled with her glowing references and your stellar presentation, we would like to offer you the job,” The man in the middle said.

I was slightly taken aback at the praise, this must have been the best interview I had ever had, taking a moment to process I smiled and nodded, shaking their hand in turn with acceptance.

“Minju from HR will settle the contracts with you by phone, I believe you are ok with our pay package?” The interviewer said.

“Yes Sir,” I replied, shaking his hand again.

To be fair it was a big bump on what I was on at the moment with the added benefit of an old love interest entered into the equation, it was a must take.

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity,” I said before turning towards the door.

“Minho, one sec, are you free later this afternoon for a catch up?” Karina said before I left the room.

“Sure,” I replied smiling before exchanging numbers.

It was a move so natural to me now, one which my 20-year-old self would be proud of. I had just nabbed Karina’s phone number.

“Well done on today,” Karina said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s really good to see you,” She followed up.

“Catch you soon,” Karina said smiling warmly at me.

“As long as you get the coffees this time,” I replied with a wink.

“Good one,” Karina reply, her cheeks turning a light pink for the briefest of moments.

—

For the first time in a long while, the fruits of my labor were finally bearing fruit. It was a constant struggle to get to this point in my career, blocked off at various stages in the chain by a combination of bad luck and wrong timing. I was always taught that we make our own luck in this world which is why I kept striving forward, kept pushing on, no matter what situation I found myself in. That interview had been a victory, a rare moment where the pieces just fell into the right slots, just at the crucial moment. On the way out, I had a quick glance around the office, taking in what would be my new workplace. Just at the back next to the director’s office was the marketing department, no doubt my new home going forward.

With great pride I made my way down the stairs and back to reception before being gently caught by the arm. It was the HR rep asking if I had a quick minute to sign the necessary documents instead of getting it mailed through. It did strike me as a peculiar move, normally it took HR a few days to draft the offer letter and send it out, but I thought nothing of it, browsing the important bits and signing off with my signature. Luckily, I had no notice to give as I had just left my role the previous week, a risk on my part, but one I felt I could confidently overcome. It proved to be the right choice as I handed the papers to HR.

“See you next week,” She said.

“Well done,” The rep followed up.

I nodded, shaking her hand, before turning to leave.

“Minho..,” A familiar voice called from behind me.

It was Karina, speed walking towards me through the crowd of workers. She caught many people’s glances, mostly men as they craftily snuck a peek of the former Idol striding confidently across the floor space. She was wearing an elegant cream patterned dress with a black leather jacket draped across her shoulders. It gave her that casual suave boss look, yet at the same time emanated a very elegant and feminine vibe. Her smile broadened as she caught up with me, lightly touching my shoulder as we walked side by side.

“Congratulations again, on landing the position,” Karina said with a bright smile.

It was hard not to be taken aback by her sheer beauty, but if time had taught me one thing, it was to stay calm and measured in moments like this.

“It... was a close one,” I replied with a grin.

“Pleaseeee, you totally nailed it, we are lucky to have you,” She replied.

“Ok now you are just flattering me for a free coffee,” I joked.

“Ah you know me too well,” Karina replied, chuckling lightly.

“I thought you were busy this afternoon?” I asked, as we made our way outside.

She shrugged her shoulders, playfully prodding me in the ribs with her elbow.

“They were just update meetings, not so important, besides it free’s up more time for us to catch up, unless you have other plans?” Karina said.

“No, not at all, we can go over some of my plans for the project,” I replied.

“No business talk, fill me in on everything else going on with you,” She said laughing.

We walked and talked for what seemed like a few minutes, till we reached a quint little French barista tucked away from the main road. Checking my watch, I realized we had literally been walking for a good fifteen minutes as it was already half past four in the afternoon. It felt seamless, chatting to Karina again, similar to the old days where we would talk about everything and anything while she prepared for another shoot in her Idol days.

“Skinny Latte?” I asked, eying up the menu.

“You know me so well,” Karina said in jest.

“Well, I had a lot of practice back in the day,” I replied with a smile.

Karina suggested we sit in the corner away from the busy eyes of onlookers outside. I had noticed she changed much in this aspect, not one to revel in the spotlight, she was quite reserved in many respects, no doubt influenced to some degree by her religious upbringing. I respected that, her values and steadfast nature in doing what was best for her and her interests.

“So, spill the beans, what’s been going on with you?” Karina asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Well, it has been quite the whirlwind to be honest,” I replied.

“Once I left that day, I worked on a few other company till I finally got a promotion to the PR team. From there I steadily plugged away, attending business class in the evenings, thanks to you, eventually graduating and landing an entry level Marketing role for a local website. I stayed there for a couple of years, continuing further study and gaining experience, leaving there as a senior marketing lead. My last job, that I just left was as the Digital lead overseeing different internal projects before rising to Miu Miu taking care of bigger picture stuff and here we are,” I said.

“That is quite the journey, I’m so glad you made it work for yourself,” She said, smiling warmly.

“Well, it was all thanks to your encouragement in the beginning, making me pull my finger out and get my ass into gear,” I replied.

“No, that was all you, I just opened a few doors,” Karina said, rapping lightly on my arm.

Something was different with her. It was like I was no longer seen as a brother but an equal in her eyes. It was the way she looked at me, no longer endearing, almost a bit curious. It triggered an itch within myself that I had to scratch, my infatuation with her since the early days only growing stronger. A feeling that I wanted to follow through and see where I could take this. There were the obvious blockers with her being happily married and all, but my selfishness got the better of me, kicking my moral compass to the side as I mirrored her actions, lightly touching her arm on occasion throughout or little catch up. Not that she seemed to mind at all, her beautiful smile always beaming, fixing her hair from time to time as our coffees soon turned into wine and eventually to dinner.

“So, tell me,” I said, motioning to her ring.

“Oh,” Karina replied blushing slightly at my abrupt change in tac, focusing on her personal life.

I did not expect much, as I knew she was relatively private in nature.

“Well, yes, I am married and have three beautiful children,” She said beaming.

Karina showed me a few pictures in my phone, leaning over the gap in the table to flick through the gallery. I could smell her perfume from here, laced in the depths of her nape, filling my nostrils with a sweet aromatic blend of floral notes and citrus. She smelt heavenly, as I felt my crotch stir at our sudden close proximity. We spoke for what seemed an age before she checked her watch after feeling her phone buzz. It was now half nine in the evening.

“Shoot..,” Karina said.

“God I better get going, the husband is messaging,” She said with an awkward smile.

“It has been good catching up, really good, you have changed a lot Minho,” Karina said, clasping her bag.

“Change in a good way I hope,” I replied with a chuckle.

I could see we had got through quite a number of bottles of wine as Karina dialed a local taxi for pick up as we settled the bill and walked outside to wait for her ride.

“Yes by the way,” Karina suddenly said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You have changed in a good way,” She replied.

“Ok that was like a five-minute delay Karina, losing your sharpness,” I said laughing.

“Pfftt, it’s the wine, deadly stuff,” Karina said, merrily leaning on my shoulder.

“You are much more confident and forward looking, it’s a good look,” She said softly.

“I can remember the first time we met, you were so star struck it was cute, standing there with a coffee in your hand,” Karina said laughing.

“Do you blame me?” I said chuckling.

“I mean it was adorable, your face was all flushed and, I can say this now but it was a little obvious you were a little too excited,” Karina said slapping my arm in hysterics.

I had hoped that she would have missed that all those years ago, but I guess she picked up on it, all of it. I could not help but laugh with her reminiscing about the past as the alcohol slowly set in.

“Oh, here’s my cab,” She said giving me a hug and pecking me on the cheek.

“It was so nice to see you, congratulations, again,” Karina said beaming, the smell of wine now laced in her breath.

“You too Karina, it was great to see you too,”

“Don’t worry I have managed to curb my excitement this time!” I joked.

Karina laughed, punching my harm.

“Must be losing my touch,” She said, smiling.

“I wouldn’t fret, you still have the same- effect..,” I replied, my expression of the cheeky, implying nature.

Karina blushed, swiping her hair behind her ear while she fidgeted on the spot for a few moments, smiling.

“Well, I best be going, see you in the office?” She said, gathering her composure again and leaning in for a hug.

“Yes boss,” I replied, closing the taxi door and watching her leave.

The walk home was a good one, a feeling of elation at nailing the interview and one of mild curiosity at the unsaid words and feelings I felt between us. With a bright smile across my face, I went to bed eager to get started on my first day.

—

Strolling into the work on day one all suited and booted gave me a great sense of accomplishment as the HR representative took me to my new office. It was large, much larger than my old one, decked out in a minimalistic art decor kind of vibe. It even had that fancy clap to shut blinds feature which made the inner child in me laugh in excitement.

“This is your team,” The rep said.

She introduced me to my marketing team manager Nayoung, who over saw our junior team members Sohye and Yeonjun. They seemed like a good bunch, all enthusiastic and willing to do the hard yards as we went full on into the new product launch. There was little time to settle in as the launch was happening in three months’ time, so all the marketing and advertisement had to be nailed down asap. From my first few encounters with Nayoung I got the impression that she knew exactly what she was doing, decisive in her actions but at the same time very popular with the other two. She must have been a few years younger than myself, perhaps on her late twenties, but her experience levels shone through her work. She had that girl next door look, yet commanded respect through her calmness and wicked sense of humor. She was sharp, I had to hand it to her, batting off my banter throughout the day and weeks with ease. It got to a point that our team work was seamless, synchronized as the group ramped up for the final presentation to Karina.

—

It was now week three, and the first draft was about to be presented to Karina for approval. The team had been working hard throughout the process, pulling late nights on consecutive occasions as all four of us tidied up the final bits of the slides.

“So, we heard that you and the boss lady go way back,” Yeonjun said smirking.

“Yeah, I have known her for quite some time,” I replied.

Sohye and Nayoung smiled at each other.

“Seriously guys, we are going there?” I asked laughing.

“Well, she is kinda hot,” Yeonjun chirped in.

“Kinda? She is drop dead gorgeous,” Sohye replied.

“Guys, just get to work, I will leave the company card with Nayoung, order whatever you want,” I said smiling.

“Is that a no comment?” Yeonjun asked laughing.

Before I could hit back with some banter of my own, Karina walked in wearing an eye catching black short, black top, showing off way too much leg for the office.

“Evening all,” Karina said, smiling, her eyes lingering on me for a brief moment.

I could sense Yeonjun and the team in hysterics as I gathered my laptop. He bit his fist obviously in reaction to Karina’s insanely revealing work attire.

“Let me take you through the final proposal, Boss,” I said with a cheeky grin.

“Lead the way,” Karina replied.

My office was just around the corner as I snuck another peek at her smooth legs before shutting the door behind me.

“Bit bold for the office?” I said smiling.

“Ughh don’t get me started, just rushed off a shoot with Women’s Health, barely made it in time through the traffic,” She replied, sitting down in the swivel chair and crossing her legs.

Something about what she said did not add up though. According to her PA she had finished in the afternoon, as the shoot had been moved earlier on in the day. I knew this because our meeting was due to be the following day but I moved it forward to tonight as we were in good shape with the proposal. With intrigue racing across my thoughts, I settled down beside her, making sure not to stare at her smooth legs.

“So, what you got for me?” Karina said, tilting her head towards me.

I ran her through our slides, pointing out the key take aways and messages of the campaign. Karina nodded intently, chiming in with slight tweaks here and there. She really knew her stuff, explaining the ideology of the company revolving around sustainability and making the world a better place through safe practice and renewable materials. If not for her flawless attire, I would have paid better attention as I found myself staring at her face before being brought back to reality.

“Don’t you agree?” She said.

“What? Yes, yes, I do,” I replied.

“Did you just zone out? Hah for a minute there your face reminded me of when we first met,” Karina said smiling.

The slight awkwardness from a few weeks back when I dropped her off at the taxi were now long gone as I felt her get more and more comfortable with my company.

“What do you mean by this part?” Karina asked pointing to one of the slides.

I moved in closer, feeling the slight brush of her calf on my leg as I explained the ins and outs of the slide. The touch of her leg on mine was not rebuffed as I continued with my explanation, using it as an excuse to gently continue to rub my leg against her bare skin, my knee now sneaking up her leg slightly as we sat side by side. I felt a slight jump in her demeanor so I quickly moved my leg away, maybe I had pushed my luck too far.

“Sorry- bit tight in here,” I said, breaking the silence, which was an odd thing to say as the office was large.

The awkwardness steadily grew as the tension cranked up, Karina finally looking up at me after I had finished my re run through her query.

“Thank you…” For taking me through it.

“It looks, good,” She said.

Her face now a few inches from mine, the silence filling the gap, I felt a sudden rush of blood to my head, moving forward without skipping a beat planting my lips on hers. Initially feeling a tensing in her shoulders, this quickly dissipated as our lips melded together, my hands now resting on the side of her waist as we embraced in deep heavy petting.

“Wait…wait…I can’t,” Karina said, her hands gently pushing me away as I continued kissing up her nape and nibbling at her ear lobe.

“Minho…wait...seriously I’m married..,” She followed up, breaking our kiss and rolling away an inch or so in the seat.

Her face was flushed red, hair slightly out of place as the ravishing woman looked at me, slightly unsure and ashamed. I could see her breathing had accelerated by the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she rushed to fix her dress.

“What’s the matter, don’t you want to?” I asked enquiringly.

“Its. Not- I’m married and have a family,” Karina replied clearly flustered.

I closed the distance between us in the chair again without a response from her as she just sat still, pretending to fuss before picking up her phone.

“Jaewook called, just going to call home,” She said hurriedly, turning her back to me as she dialed home.

Catching the chair mid turn, I spun her back around, just as her husband greeted her. Placing my leg in-between her thighs I slowly inched forward. The look in her eyes were full of trepidation, yet her body showed no signs of rejection as Karina sat completely still greeting Jaewook on the other side of the line.

“Hey honey, yes I’m- just…in a meeting,” Karina said.

My confidence now shot to a hundred due to our kiss moments before so decided to take things a bit further, reaching out my hand and running it along the inside of her smooth pale legs. Karina showed brief signs of resistance, squeezing her legs shut before I eased them open again with my other hand, travelling further up her inner thighs till my fingers made contact with her moist sex.

“I should be home...in a bit..,” Karina continued talking.

Her face was clearly conflicted, trying to hold it together while I pleasured her with my hands, cupping her wet pussy through her silky underwear, rubbing firmly on her clit.

“Fuck..,” Karina moaned into the phone.

Her eyes shot open in fear, realizing what she had just said as her husband sounded confused on the other line.

“No... I just found an error in the presentation that’s all,” She quickly recovered.

Smiling, I nodded, our eyes meeting for the first time during this sordid encounter. Her pupils were dilated, washed over in a glaze of lust as her mouth dropped, gaping slightly at the touch of my hands now rubbing her cunt with increased fervor. Easing her underwear to the side, I crept my fingers delicately along the length of her lips, piercing Karina’s slick labia with my digits as I proceeded to stoke the insides of her married cunt.

“God...Unghh..,” Karina gently moaned, holding the phone to her shoulder.

Luckily, Jaewook was in the thralls of an explanation about some work issues he had today, missing his wife’s whispered moans. Slipping in another finger and then another I was basically cupping her sex, removing her soaked underwear completely, placing it in my back pocket while I delved my hand deep within her folds, feeling her walls close in around me. Extending my finger deep inside her tight slit, my digits making contact with her g-spot as applied pressure with my wrist making her twitch and writhe in her chair.

“Jaewook- Jaewook...can…I... call you back..,?” Karina said, her voice now slightly ragged.

Sensing her impending climax, I doubled my efforts flicking her clitoris with my thumb as I rubbed her deep inside her cunt, stimulating her g-spot with my fingers while she creamed all over my hand. Karina’s thighs were covered in her slick juices, my wrist now leaking with her nectar as I felt her cramping up. Her cunt walls squeezing down on my fingers as I impaled my hand within her womb, fucking her with deep steady strokes.

“Shit...mpphhh,” Karina said, moaning into my shoulder as I had moved forward, resting my face next to hers as I attacked her pussy with quicker jabs.

“Babe...you still there?” I heard Jaewook saying on the other line.

“Uhhh...huh…Just finishing up here,” Karina replied.

Her pussy was twitching in my hand as I felt her hips buck, stuffing more of my fingers deeper into her married cunt as she bit down on my shoulder to mask her cries of pleasure while climaxing on my fingers. We stayed in this awkward embrace as I continued to rub at her sex, her pussy leaking down my palms and onto the carpeted floor while she finished her conversation with Jaewook. Hanging up the phone the look on her face turned from the relief of just being brought to orgasm, to more of one of remorse of what had just happened.

Getting up without a word, she held out her hand, wanting me to hand back her sex-soaked underwear to which I refused, standing up and cupping her face in my hands.

“I- can’t...we can’t…” Karina said rather tame.

“We already have,” I replied curtly, planting another kiss on her lips as I eased her back onto the wall behind.

“Wait- seriously...I’m- ughh...married,” She replied, her moans steadily increasing as my hands danced up her dress again.

“Seriously...plll...pleaseeee,” Karina pleaded in vain, her emotions caught between guilt and pleasure as I held a my cum soaked finger to her lips.

“Shhh...allow me to make you feel...better,” I replied.

“I may not be your husband...but you will enjoy this..,” I said, kissing her once more before dropping to my knees.

Karina’s eyes were wanting, slowly turning to my way of thinkings as I proceeded to lift up her dress and take in her essence. The smell of her sex was divine, a mix of the pungent natural notes of her cunt together with the sweet taste of her juice was a dream come true as I licked her slit from the bottom to the top, suckling on her throbbing clit with my lips.

“Mmhh...aahhh..,” Karina groaned lightly, running her fingers through her hair.

I was slowly breaking her resistance, feeling her push her hips into my face as I slung one of her legs over my shoulders while feasting on her slippery pussy. Dragging my tongue up her swollen lips, I pierced her folds, tongue fucking her slit with gradual spears, tasting her cream in my mouth as I eagerly lapped up everything she had to offer.

“Fuck- we...we can’t- ahh…”. Karina moaned louder as I hit the right spot, her clawing more desperate now as she forcefully fed me her cunt.

Karina was on tip toes now, her initial resistance dissipated completely as I had my way with her, licking her pink insides with my tongue as I felt her inevitable climax build. Her thighs were now clamped around my face as I hoovered up her sexual fluids, adding my fingers to the mix, penetrating her sex with my digits while sucking at her reddened clit.

“Shit...shit...mmhh...fuckk...ughh,” Karina yelled, her climax hitting its peak as she shivered and twitched around my lips.

I stayed on my knees for a while, taking in her heavenly taste in my mouth as the sultry woman eased me back to my feet. She was silent, not saying a word, almost as if saying something would be an admission of our wrong doings. If anything, I was leading proceedings backing into my leather-bound chair as I eyed Karina up and down. She knew what I wanted, a slight smirk forming on her lips as she slowly walked towards me.

We kissed softly, as I felt her hands drift slowly down my body as Karina descended to her knees, gently pushing me into my chair. Her expression was livelier riddled with hunger as she bit her lips gently, hurriedly unbuckling my belt and removing my trousers.

I stared at her full lips hovering a mere inch from my throbbing member as she kissed my crown through my boxers. My pre cum leaking onto my cotton underwear as she gently pecked at my cock with her soft lips, tasting the hint of salt soaking through the fabric. It was like watching a beautiful car crash happen in slow motion as Karina freed by cock from by pants, fishing it out and dipping her wet lips along the length of my shaft. Her soft hands feeling my meat with a firm grip that pumped with perfect execution as she finally took me into her wanting mouth, eyes locked on mine for the entirety of the act.

“Mmmm...mmm”. Karina hummed on my dick, while she gave me the best fellatio of my life.

I was lost in the sensations of her tongue lapping up the underside of my shaft in one fluid motion, before sucking down again on my crown, over and over feeding more of my twitching cock between her married lips. Running my fingers through her hair I thrust my hips gently into her wanting mouth as her nose made contact with my pubic bone, deep throating my entire cock till my tip made contact with her tonsils. I held her here for a few precious seconds, feeling her tongue coat my cock in more of her warm spit as she took me to the back of her throat, her eyes flushed with desire.

“Shit- Karina...you feel...soo...good,” I groaned, suddenly disrupted by my office door swing open.

It was Nayoung, holding the company credit card with a grin on her face. The instance she went to speak, Karina had expertly hidden herself under my desk, my cock still sheathed between her lips while she continued to feed on my meat, turning her attention to my sack with long deep licks.

“Boss can we up the limit to say 25 each?” Nayoung said smiling.

“Yeah sure whatever you guys want” I replied, slightly breathless.

Karina was staring at me from below, mouth open, rolling my sack around between her lips, slathering me in spit while I tried maintaining my cool.

“Everything OK Boss, you seem a little uptight?” Nayoung said concerned.

“Yeah...the draft went down well, Karina has just popped out for a call,” I said, a bead of sweat forming on my forehead.

“You sure...?” Nayoung replied.

I felt Karina now clamp down on my balls and suck hard while she pumped my cock with her fist, my shaft straining for release as my orgasm built up rapidly.

“Yes...no problem...keep up the good work,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Ok boss, we are just outside if you need anything,” Nayoung replied before leaving.

I waited for the footsteps to soften before letting out an almighty yawn thrusting my cock further into Karina’s mouth.

“Shit...Karina...I’m close..,” I moaned, gripping the back of her head as I continued to thrust between her lips.

“Mmm...mmhh...mmhhfff..,” Karina replied, her mouth stuffed with cock as my impending release came.

She never stopped sucking, bringing her mouth around my crown and allowing me to unload inside her oral cavity. Spurt after spurt of my sticky load painted her pink insides, feeding her a torrent of my thick and salty seed, the mother of three just lapping up my sperm with her tongue as she pumped my shaft with her fist, milking my twitching cock to completion while swallowing my load, closing her eyes in euphoria.

It was immense, watching her continue to work my spurting dick with her lips until I grew soft within her mouth. A gentle squeeze of my balls dribbling out the final drops of sperm from my tip into her welcoming tongue.

“God damn Karina...that was intense,” I said breathlessly.

She looked up at me in a cum drunk haze, my seed dripping from her bottom lip.

“So...do I taste better than your husband?” I asked cheekily.

She looked at me with a frown, coming back down to reality after her earth-shattering fellatio, she had just given me.

“I don’t usually let him finish in my mouth..,” Karina said meekly.

“Usually?” I replied.

“Never..,” She said, kissing my tip softly with her lips.

I reached out stroking her face as I scooped up the last dribble of sperm on the side of her mouth, letting the ravishing woman suck it clean from my fingers a smile breaking out on her face at the taste of my essence.

Our sensual connection in that moment was disrupted by the sudden ring of her phone. It was her husband and just like that her mood changed from a state of utter arousal to one of panic and remorse as she stood up, flattening out her dress and grabbing her jacket.

“I... I have to go,” Karina stammered, clearly flustered as her cheeks went a bright red.

“Email me the rest of the slides?” She said turning to me.

“Look- about...what just…” Karina started.

I cut her off, kissing her gently on the lips.

“Go... I will see you in the meeting on Friday,” I said gently.

Karina smiled, avoiding my eye contact, clearly riddled with guilt from what had just transpired, but she clearly enjoyed herself. It gave me a surge of confidence knowing that fact, even if she was not ready to freely admit it herself.

The picture of her locked in the thralls of passion as I felt her up for the first time would forever be seared into my memories. I was officially addicted and I needed to get another hit of her...

[marsmaximoff]

🏛️ emperor caracalla ; headcanons ⋆₊𐕣˚𖤐 ݁｡☽

content warning: fem!reader. mentions of blood, killing and sickness, cheating, possessiveness, toxicity. idk if there’s anything else.

word count: 0.7k

author’s note: first time writing headcanons, so constructive criticism is welcomed. and english is my third language so please bear with me. i apologize for any mistake 🙏🏻 also, i’m unlocking a new obsession, so i needed to write for caracalla asap. i’m gonna write for other fred characters too because that man has me down bad. that’s it! enjoyyy! <3

emperor caracalla is a menace with an insane duality and you know that better than anyone

we have 1) mad ruler with an insatiable thirst for blood

you ALWAYS go to the games

he demands wants you there with him

(not like you have much choice being married to him)

but still, he loves to know you’re there. mostly because he actually enjoys sharing his passion and spending time with you. buuut, also because he REALLY likes to show you off. (you love seeing him all giggly clapping and yelling tho)

and let me tell you, he takes every opportunity to do so. to remind everyone that you’re his. and to brag in front of his pretty much unmarried brother.

i’m talking hand rubbing your thigh when sitting by his side (he does it absentmindedly, it’s genuinely cute), arm around your waist during feasts, sitting on his lap when watching combats, theatre or any sort of entertainment and a ton of PDA.

both of them are possessive, but he is more subtle, not as straightforward

regarding Geta, you two have an… odd relationship. he’s thankful there’s someone else to deal with his brother’s madness. but he’s suspicious of your intentions. tho jealous.

some would even say not only of the marriage itself…

caracalla knows, and absolutely feeds on it. he finally has something that belongs to him and only him

god forbid someone doesn’t get it

Dondus has grown to adore you. you’re like his other parent -he’s adopted you as such.

squeaks at you and happily climbs your arm to rest on your shoulder

loves using your braids as little ladders

and snuggling against your neck too

he’s just so cute can u tell i love him :3

anyways

and 2) sappy child

he follows you around like a puppy

you hate it when he gets overwhelmed, he tends to hide and isolate himself

you end up acting like his mother

gets insecure of his real face and keeps it from you

needs a lot of reassurance

the guards always look for you when he has an outburst

your touch and presence are the only things that ground him

LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling

clings to you like he needs you to breathe

good luck waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom 💀

play with his hair and he’s GONE

big on pet names

to you is always “my love” “my dear” “my darling” “my wife” “my empress”

emphasis on the “my”

everything’s fine with him but “sweet boy” makes him melt

and obviously “my emperor” cause it makes him feel powerful

and compliments too

spoils and pampers the shit out of you

jewels, clothes, animals, entertainers, you name it

absolutely whipped

loves kissing

now, it can’t all be a fairytale 😞

sometimes you feel like he loves Dondus more than you

and it seems that some men being forced to kill each other brings him more happiness than you ever could

he can switch from sad to angry in a matter of seconds and sometimes his sudden change of tone and expressions startles you

🚩 🚩🚩

being married to a sick man is hard

many palace servants and guards feel bad for you

paranoid

thinks you don’t love him anymore and are going to leave him quite often

obsessive

if you say something that feels ‘off’ to him get ready for an intense interrogation

possessive and extremely jealous

cause why the fuck where you laughing with some random man?

he’d threaten to kill him and would probably get rough with you

hates other people touching you

gets violent

has hurt you before during one of his fits

regrets it afterwards but has a hard time apologizing

would probably be unfaithful. i know, i hate it too 🥲

over all i think he wouldn’t be that bad of a husband, like it could be way worse

and i say he could genuinely love you, it just wouldn’t be the healthiest of loves

but you can try to fix him girl ✨✨

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SIXTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, depictions/mentions of violence, dark themes, surprise appearance!!, lots of feelings masterlist

Your world felt moments away from collapsing in on itself. The very man you had only seen for mere seconds, a brief glimpse, yet had undeniably began to torture you brainlessly was only waves apart from you.

His ship was hidden behind smokey clouds, but you could spot a faint red glow coming from one of the windows. It glimmered back at you in a taunting dance.

The ship was significantly larger. While Price’s ship was a dime, Graves harbored a war ship, one that you knew instantly housed more men than the four you’ve come to know. Its wood was stained black, nearly mirroring the dark sea as it roared its reins. The flag of a skull waved angrily in the wind.

There was no mistaking it. Graves had come, and you weren’t sure if it was for you, or for Ghost. You had a good idea of who.

“Dove!”

You spun around to see Gaz, struggling to hold the rope of the sail tightly bound. His face was pleading, eyes peering up at you in exasperation. Soap stood beside him, expression concentrated—eyebrows pulled together, shoulders straining against the heavy winds that threatened to pull his rope free.

“Get down from there! Are you fuckin’ crazy?” he shouted, his voice mixing in the wind and nearly getting lost.

You glanced back at Graves’ ship. It was small in the distance, not quite close enough to pose a heavy threat—yet. You had a choice to make, but you knew you had to be quick.

“Ghost! Get her down!” Soap yelled.

Ghost, hurrying to his return from stowing away the valuables on deck almost lost from the storm, snapped his head up to you. In such a distressing, grim atmosphere, he looked scarier than ever, all tall and brute, the mask mirroring the very flag that flapped among the sea.

His body grew tense, a flip switching. It was clear as day, the way his hands balled up, his shoulders stiffening, his legs moving on their own accord—he switched to serious and brooding, and he was just as spiteful with the fact you had ran from cover so stupidly.

By the time you were scrambling to place your feet on the rope ladder to scurry down, Ghost was waiting for you at the bottom, his arms held out in case you fell. The rope swayed uneasily, unable to keep itself steady with the roaring wind threatening to flip it.

“The fuck are you tryin’ to do?” Ghost growled, hands clasping around your waist to haul you down one you were close enough. “Kill yourself?”

Your breath caught in your lungs when he grabbed you, his grip firm and irritated, yet considerate enough not to hurt you. The air released once you were on your feet, the rocking of the boat making you unstable.

It was an absolute downpour on you, Ghost’s mask dripping with unhappy raindrops that slithered down to soak into his balaclava. Your clothes stuck to you uncomfortably, and you hated that your initial reaction was to be upset that one of the dresses Gaz purchased for you was going to be ruined.

“The Captain—” you gasped out, hands pressing against Ghost’s chest in attempts to release his hold on you. “I must go to him, I must tell him what is happening, he must know—”

Ghost paid no mind to you fighting in his grasp, his hands coming to take hold of your wrists. You squirmed against the restraint, eyes frantically searching for Price’s.

“Calm yourself,” Ghost hissed, not unkindly. “Tell me what’s burdenin’ you. Tell me.”

You hadn’t realized how sporadic your breathing became until you slowly began to stop your fight. Your chest heaved, lungs clashing against your rib cage painfully. A ringing shrouded your ears, combined with the heavy rain the pattered loudly against the deck.

Graves festered within the back of your mind. Always there, always mocking.

“It is Graves,” you quavered, your hands balling into fists. Ghost’s grip only tightened on your wrists. “He is here, I have seen it from up there. His ship is among the sea, waiting.”

Ghost stared at you with eyes heavily filled with an unspoken grief with guilt tinging the edges. He stood frozen in place, even as you began twisting and turning to unclasp your wrists.

“You must let me go, Ghost, please. I must inform the Captain, I do not wish to die—”

You stumbled off balance when the release was so sudden. His hands fell to his sides, dull fingernails digging into his palms as he furled them.

“Do what you must,” he rumbled low, his head turned to the sea. He looked out into the abyss as if searching for prey. “I will take care of it.”

“Ghost—”

“I said, I will take care of it,” he snipped, whirling his head back to you. “Go.”

With a light shove, he averted you in Price’s direction on the helm of the ship, where he fought against whipping rain and keeping the boat as steady as he could. You watched Ghost turn, stomping over to Gaz and Soap. A man on a mission.

You couldn’t hear the exchange between the three men. Ghost had gruffed something to them, switching places with Gaz.

He hauled the rope so it tightened, tying it around its pillar before shifting to Soap to articulate the same. While you watched Soap and Gaz struggle to keep the sails at bay, Ghost had gained a bitter strength to hanker down the fort and keep them tied down himself. The news of Graves’ approach had shifted him into something ravenous, as if he were out for blood and nothing would dare to stop him until he took a bite.

Ghost, as if sensing your stare, whirled around, glowering at you. “You must be really tryin’ to kill yourself, dove,” he jeered loudly to ensure you heard him.

“Ghost, calm yourself—” Soap tried, reaching out for him.

“What did I tell you? Go.” Ghost finished.

That notion alone was enough to have you refocus your alarm on the true worry at hand. You gathered yourself, stumbling along the soaking floors that continued to ingest the downpour.

Price, you must tell Price. He was clueless. You weren’t even sure Ghost had explained the situation to Gaz or Soap, you could only assume. He would tell them, right?

“Captain!” you shouted, sprinting to the helm. Your legs carried you quickly, running on autopilot. The blood pumped erratically through your veins, filled with nothing but determination.

Price’s hands were tightly wound with the wheel, spinning and turning with each and every wave that threatened to overtake his control. At the sight of you, he wavered, his initial anger replaced with concern.

“Dove,” he breathed. “The hell was that, huh? Climbin’ up there like a fuckin’ animal? Don’t you know how dangerous these waves are? You could’ve been flown overboard and I wouldn’t have the means to save you. You need to fuckin’ think!”

Your body shook with adrenaline, hands unable to remain by your sides. You nodded mindlessly along with his words, taking them half to heart. You knew you had bigger things to tell him, things he needed to know. Your safety in the crow’s nest was the least of your worries.

“Captain, it is Graves— he is coming,” you panted, watching his expression morph into one just as sinister as Ghost’s reaction. “His ship is just beyond the waves, he is coming. I owe you my apologies for disobeying your orders, but you must understand—”

“How do you know?” he asked, tone growing a dangerous bite.

“Up on the crow’s nest,” you paused, inhaling. “I spotted his ship. He has called me, I hear him speaking to me. He waves a flag of that of Ghost’s ring—the skull. I know, Captain—it is him. He has told me so.”

Price reared back from the wheel, muttering a string of nasty curses. You had never seen him so angry before, so bloodthirsty.

He was the epitome of rage, spewing out poison and oozing pure loathe. A dark cloud circled him, trapping him in its arms and luring him towards the pits of fire. The Captain was at his wits end, his last string of sanity snapping.

With nobody in control, the ship began to shift, leaning with the waves and forcing you to hold your ground with but the crevices of your shoes. Price held himself together enough to grab hold of the wheel once more, but in a deathly grip, white-knuckled.

“You will return to my quarters,” he muttered. “You will stay until I tell you to come out. Do as your told, and do not disobey my order again, or I will hand you off to Graves myself. Are we clear?”

You would be a madman to argue. The look in his eye was borderline murderous, a complete shift from the man you were beginning to know. What you saw was the reflection of Price the day you met him, when he held a gun up to the fear-stricken faces of your village and barked out commands just as he was doing to you now.

Even if you were crazy enough to argue, there would be no room for it. He’d make sure of that.

“I fear him, Captain,” you found yourself saying, voice quivering. Your eyes darted to the floor, unfocused. Your anxiety began to broil. “He is a siren among the seas, and I do not know how to swim. I cannot be a prisoner again, I will not—”

The touch of a rough hand grazed your cheek, guiding you to look up. Price kept one hand on the wheel while the other stroked a gentle thumb along your skin. Gone was the crimson red from his pupils and instead, that familiarity you’d come to enjoy. Soft around the edges, swarming with silent apology.

The rain dripped down your face and spread along his hand as he traced your features.

“I will not allow it,” he assured, certain. “I am sorry, I did not mean those—those words I have spoken. You must understand how dire of a situation this is for you—for us. I fear, too, dove.”

The awestruck look on your face didn’t go unnoticed from anybody except you. You were too caught up in his touch to will embarrassment.

He was touching you. So tenderly, as well. Even in a fit of erupting chaos and impending doom, you found yourself stuck in time, accompanied by the taste of comfort you’d longed for since the moment you learned what it was. You’d spent lifetimes searching for it, and it was there all along, right in front of you.

The Captain was expressing the same fear you’d been consumed by since the moment you entered the ship, since Graves had slinked into your life and taken control. He understood you on a new level, and it was a calm in the fierce storm.

“I do not want to hide away in your quarters, Captain,” you confessed. With a brief hesitation, you slowly raised your arm, flattening your palm over the back of his hand. He could only stare at the featherlike touch along his rugged skin. “I wish to be apart of this, like a real crew is. I wish to be one of you, fighting along your side, even if the cards are not dealt in our favor.”

“You do not know what you are askin’ for, dove.”

“I know. I do not hold regret.”

Price’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for any sign of deception. What he found was a bird willing to flap its wings until they grew tired, determined to fight for its flock even as the weight of life grew heavy.

He couldn’t will himself to deny you. Even if he desperately wanted to, you were theirs, and he’d rather slit his own throat before forbidding you to a man rotted from the inside out.

His hand slipped away from under yours, only to grasp it in his hold, holding your fingers tightly with his.

“You are a pirate,” he said, a hint of a smile in his tone. “You sure as hell fight like one, dove.”

Your heart felt like it could burst at any moment. This was the belonging you craved, this was what it felt like to hold it in the palm of your hand. While death was creeping in through the cracks in the old wood beneath your feet, the light was searching for a breakthrough, fighting to reveal its presence.

Standing in the swirling storm, pummeled by heavy rainfall with clothes soaked to the bone, Graves mere seas away, you found yourself smiling. You no longer had to reach for acceptance to claim it in your grasp—it had come to you all on its own, and for that, the world didn’t feel so scary anymore.

“There is not much to do besides ride out the storm and steer clear of Graves. I will do my best to make it happen, but for now,” Price paused, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Return to the quarters. I will have the others accompany you. When it is time, if is time, you will fight with us, and you will die with us. No man left behind.”

As much as you wanted to stay in this moment, glued to his side to face the roaring winds with him, he knew best. You trusted him, more than you ever had before, and nothing would waver that. Not Graves, not yourself.

“You will be okay out here?” you asked, concerned.

Price smiled, no longer as tense as before. And if he was, he was great at hiding it for you. “It is not my first storm, dove, nor will it be my last. I’m a captain. You think so little of me?”

“An absurd statement, that is,” you humored.

“Then all will be well,” he assured. He let go of your hand, his hold lingering, as if he feared missing out on your touch now that he had it.

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. You felt a faint tingle in your fingertips from where he’d just been. “I’ll return to your quarters, then,” you replied. “I will be here, were anything to happen—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly. You shared a look of understanding, and with one last nod, you trudged through the rain, slipping back into the comfort of the Captain’s quarters, saying a silent prayer for what was to come.

The dampness of your clothes did nothing to hold back your subtle shivers as you sat at the Captain’s desk. The dress you’d purchased, courtesy of Gaz, was plastered on to your skin, sticking to it like glue. It was entirely uncomfortable, yet the least of your worries as your mind wandered off to the men battling the blaze outside.

You feared for how the night would end. You trusted Price to do everything in his power to escape the grubby hands of Graves and hold off on his arrival for a bit longer. None of you were prepared for the storm, nor the evil hiding in its wake. A thousand possibilities coursed through your mind at light speed, none of them ending well—until you forced that light back in and held on to hope that all would be well, just as Price had told you.

It scared you, just how much you worried for them. What a dangerous thing, to find care in your heart for another in a world full of heartache. It was riddled with betrayal and selfishness, something you learned as a child and took with you as you transitioned into adulthood. It was the very reason you locked your heart up and set forth to a world of your own, burying yourself in studies and denying yourself the pleasure of another human.

Now, you wondered how much of life you had missed out on, just from a quick taste of adventure with the pirates. It was difficult and maddening, while gifting you joy and laughter; a true way of living, as you were learning that life was never meant to be the picture perfect image you had in your mind.

What would you do if you lost it all? How could you go on, knowing that the other side of life’s trail had nothing in store for you if it wasn’t with them?

The door opening was the only thing able to snap you out of such conflicting thoughts, trapped in your mind like you were encaged. You perked up, blossoming with relief when Ghost walked in, dripping from head to toe right on the floor. Though, the peace didn’t last.

He stared at you, silently shutting the door behind him. He held the same grueling bitterness, something you could feel radiating off in waves. It invaded your senses and left you defenseless.

“You and I are goin’ to have a little chat,” he snipped, stepping further into the quarters. His boots clunked loudly with every step, strengthening the blow.

You trembled from a mix of chill and sheer emotion. You weren’t sure what to make of the brute leering towards you. You knew Ghost, but you didn’t know his heart.

Ghost stood in front of you, peering down like a predator to a prey. You could do nothing but stare back, neck straining due to the stature he held over you from where you sat.

The mask he wore pierced your soul, dark eyes peeking out from the slivers. He was studying you, stare slinking down your frame and taking you in. For a moment, he did nothing. Then, he was turning away from you, sauntering off to the other side of the quarters.

Ghost opened a cupboard, rifling through it before pulling out… a dress?

You were bewildered. What on Earth was the captain doing with a dress in his cupboard?

Ghost shut the small cabinet, returning to you with the fabric in his hand. He hesitated, before offering the dress to you. It was plain in color, and the frame was much more flowy and billowy. It was made for comfort, not for style.

“You’re shiverin’,” he grumbled, darting his gaze somewhere else.

You took the dress graciously, smoothing a palm over the soft fabric. “Why does Price have a dress?” you asked, curious. From what he told you, he had never harbored a woman on ship before.

Ghost sniffed, uncomfortable. “Soap and him got it the last we were on shore. Somethin’ for you to have outside of the dresses Gaz paid for.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you traced along the seams with delicate fingers. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Well, sorry to ruin the surprise.”

You looked back up at Ghost. A frown pulled on your lips. Even you could detect the sarcasm.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked.

Ghost met your eye once more. His eyes were cold, returning to that frigid daze. “There’s stuff you’re not tellin’ me,” he muttered. He leaned forward in a way meant to taunt you, leering over you. “You’re playin’ mind games.”

“I am not,” you defend, offended he would even assume such a thing. “That’s an absurd accusation.”

“Is it?” he mocked, cocking his head. “Then why am I only hearin’ about Graves talkin’ to you through Soap? Mind tellin’ me that?”

You gawked at him, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the sheer outrage. You knew energies were high right now and it was no time to bicker, but if he wanted to pick a fight, so would you.

“Perhaps if you didn’t lock yourself up from dawn until dusk, you would be in the loop,” you jeered back, balling the dress in your fists.

“You do not seem to have an issue findin’ your way to my quarters,” he snipped back. “Might you have simply found me to tell me these concerns, I may have been of help sooner.”

“You are not approachable in the slightest.”

“Oh, it is not the mask that scares you, dove,” he sneered. “It is honesty. It is truth. I’m not afraid to tell you the truth, dove, believe me.”

“Then please, the stage is yours.”

“Why must you be so insufferable when I am the only one who understands?”

“You do not understand me in the slightest, Ghost, so please do not pretend,” you leered.

“We are two sides of the same coin, for God’s sake!” he shouted, slamming a fist on the table. It shook under the impact, rattling the Captain’s minimal decor before they settled back in place. “We’re both bein’ dealt the hands of death, yet you seek solace in the ones who do not know what it’s like. To live in fear, to hear whispers in the walls that drive you mad, to feel a prickle on your neck as if you’re bein’ watched even though there’s no one around. That is somethin’ only I can understand, yet you parade around me as if I’m a monster.”

Your body froze, words dying in your mouth. You hated that every phrase he uttered was right and he truly was reading you like a book.

You avoided him, intentional or not. There was a taste of fear the felt like vile in your throat when he was near, and it overpowered the care you knew you held for him.

The distance was your fault as much as it was his. Though your souls were on the path to the same fate, you reared off in separate directions and found yourself lost. Now, a dam was breaking, flooding its roaring waters to trickle you back down to one another.

“You are not a monster,” you whispered, tone guilt-ridden. “I—I am so terribly sorry that I have made things that way. You are right, Ghost—I fear the reality, and I am beginning to understand my flaw.”

Ghost paused, taken by surprise that you didn’t continue to fight. It was as if nobody had taken the time to hear his truth and digest it in its entirety.

You felt horrible.

“I only wish to be there,” Ghost murmured, looking away. “But I don’t know how. I am not good with… with all of this.”

“I am not, either,” you confessed honestly. You unfurled your fists from the dress, putting it out of its misery. Your fingers felt stiff from how tightly wound they were woven in the fabric.

The room filled with a heavy silence as the two of you allowed yourselves to calm down. Not a glance was shared, a sudden awkwardness piling between you.

“I’m sorry for puttin’ you in this,” Ghost muttered, ashamed.

You perked up, throwing him a bewildered look. “What? This is not your fault. Nobody is to blame but Graves. He is the true enemy, not ourselves. I have never blamed you for any of it.”

Ghost shifted on his feet, the wood creaking beneath his weight. You could see the water that had dripped down seeping into the cracks. His hands were balled into fists, and you could faintly see a glimpse of pink.

“How are your hands?” you asked him.

Ghost grunted, uncurling his fists and spreading out his fingers. “What?”

“Your hands,” you repeated. “They are irritated.”

“They’re fine—”

“Ghost.”

He huffed, turning his head. He’d almost resemble an annoyed child if he weren’t so large. Reluctantly, he held out his hands for you to take. You held them with carefulness, inspecting the small indents on his palms from where he’d dug his dull fingernails into the skin.

“Fine,” you muttered with a shake of your head. You instructed him to keep his hands held out, turning to gather your bag that was left abandoned in Price’s quarters when the storm had hit and Soap barged in.

You knew you didn’t have much, but you sifted through the bag until your hands wrapped around a round jar. You tugged it out and made quick work opening it, collecting a dollop on your finger.

“What’s that?” he mumbled suspiciously.

You eyed him, opting not to answer while you took hold of his hands again and began lathering the soothing balm on the sore skin. He didn’t move a muscle, unfazed by the medicine, and he watched you with a keen eye the entire way through.

“I must confess something to you,” you said quietly, keeping your gaze on his hands as you worked.

Ghost hummed in reply.

“The mask—I have seen it off. I did not mean to, and it was an accident, but now that we have spoken, I feel I must get the guilt off my chest.”

He was silent for a moment, eyes unwavering from your fingers working into his palms. “When?”

“When I came to your quarters so I could talk things out with you. I did not mean to intrude, but the door was open and—I saw. It has been eating at me ever since,” you admitted woefully, fearing he’d grow angry.

To your surprise, his composure didn’t waver. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

“Stop stressin’ about it.”

Your head tilted up to peer up at him, confused by his reaction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’m not afraid to show my face; I’m afraid to show weakness. I wear it for me, not for anyone else. You seein’ it doesn’t matter, so stop worryin’ your head about it.”

Your hands paused their motion on his hands, simply holding them. You searched for any sign of a lie, but ultimately found honesty.

“I am glad then,” you sighed out in relief, smiling to yourself. “I did not want to invade your privacy.”

Ghost went quiet, peering down at your hands in his. Small in comparison, something that felt foreign to him. “Are you done?”

You sputtered when you realized your position and quickly removed your grasp, gearing your attention to shutting the jar and placing it back in your bag.

That awkward silence began to suffocate you once more, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to unstick the damp dress from your skin.

Ghost stepped away from you, instead turning his front towards the wall and occupying himself with the sight of Price’s neat cot. You tilted your head in confusion, wondering what he was doing.

“Change,” he mumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “If you get sick, I won’t hear the end of it.”

You smiled to yourself, standing to move to the other side of the room. Peeling off the wet fabric proved to be a challenge, but you managed, slipping into the dress Price and Soap had gifted you without your knowledge.

It truly was comfortable, and you found yourself much more at ease, the tension in the room fading.

“I am finished,” you told Ghost, who grunted and turned back forward. “Do you think the boys are alright?”

“They’ll be fine,” he assured, albeit it plainly. “Think they’re more worried about us. Why don’t you try and rest for now? Not much we can do but wait.”

You weren’t sure you could rest, knowing Soap, Gaz, and Price were still outside, wrestling the monstrous storm. But, you didn’t know how much longer it would be until Graves infected your mind again for his own personal pleasure, or worse, if he made it to the ship.

“You will stay?” you asked.

Ghost stiffened before giving you a nod. “I’ll stay.”

You nodded, forcing yourself into Price’s bed while Ghost thumped into his desk chair. The cot provided you with heat against your chilled skin and you sunk into it, letting it calm your nerves for the time being.

All was a waiting game, and you’d waited for longer things before. It was the pumping fear that was the worst part. As you lay, you allowed your worries to lay to rest, saying a silent prayer that all would be well by the time you woke—and if they weren’t, you’d hold up to your promise of fighting back, just as you told Price.

You were a pirate now; and pirates stuck together through death.

"Dove," a hushed voice woke you. You grumbled to yourself, face scrunching together as you shifted on to your side. "Oh, dove. Wake up."

That voice, you couldn't pinpoint it. The familiarity was on the tip of your tongue, floating somewhere in the back of your mind.

With a sluggishness, you rose from your sleep, peeling your tired eyes open. Perhaps it was Ghost waking you to tell you things were alright, or even that the storm had died down.

Instead, upon opening your eyes, a sinister smile blared back at you rather than the familiar skull you'd come to know. Your blood ran cold and the bumps on your skin rose harshly.

"Ah, there she is," Graves murmured in his own sickening amusement, as if he were watching a circus animal rise from a slumber. "Come to join the fun, finally?"

None of your crewmates were in sight, not a single strand of hair to indicate their whereabouts. You were alone with the Devil, and he was grinning with eyes full of hellish fire that he'd surely engulf you in if he pleased.

[captainsharkyy]

Drops this off and goes back into hibernation

Puppy Princess (Hot Freaks)

ShrimpoxReader fluff!!!

Tags/warnings: bullying, violence, gore, blood, mentions of swearing, injuries, fluff, kissing, cuddling.

Toon!Reader!

This took me more than a week and it's not even that long!? Also I'm working on a new format hope you like it. I seriously love Shrimpo like this is no joke gulps😣

You stood still in shock, shivering in place while listening to the laughter of the toons who had done this to you: Glisten and Tisha.

You never were able to figure out what went wrong between you and Glisten. For whatever reason, he just never liked you. Soon enough, he had roped Tisha into his sick little games with you too. That brings you to where you are now, your walk back to your room from Brightney's book club having been interrupted by Glisten, an empty bucket, and a sick joke.

"Sorry," he sneered at you, "You looked like you could've used a shower. I thought you liked cold water," Tisha laughed along side him.

You didn't exactly have the best day today. All you had for breakfast today were cold eggs and a single piece of burnt toast, Sprout had snapped at you for accidentally getting Cosmo cut by grabbing his attention while he was using scizzors, you had fallen off a ladder while putting some books back in the library and hit your head too hard for your liking, and now having been splashed with freezing cold water. Frustrated with the events of today, you could feel your emotions coming up, up, up, until you felt your eyes sting and hot tears poured down your face, your shoulders bouncing with your hiccups.

Glisten and Tisha's mouths formed into wide grins, "Awe, are you crying? Don't be so dramatic," Mocked Glisten.

"God, just-" you sniffled, "leave me alone!" Running to your room, you slipped and nearly fell if only you hadn't grabbed your doorknob to pull yourself up and locked your door tight once inside. You slid down against the door until you were sitting and hugged your knees close to your chest and cried for a bit, still shivering. Just a few seconds later you finally registered that you were freezing. You sloppily wiped away your tears and the water, the majority of your face still soaked however, and got a fluffy towel out of a drawer and stripped out of your soaked clothes to scrub yourself dry and then changed into some comfy clothes. You hugged yourself with a small smile, already feeling a bit better.

You violently jumped in place when incredibly loud, violent banging came from your door. You turned to the noise with a pout,

"Go away, Glisten!" Came your sullen voice. "I already told you to leave me alone." All you wanted to do was curl up under the covers of your bed and sleep until tomorrow came.

You heard a growl of frustration from behind the door before a familiar voice spoke, "Glisten doesn't bang on doors, idiot!" You blinked one, twice, at the door in surprise. What would Shrimpo want with you at this time? Internally, you dreaded the idea that Glisten had gotten him to pick on you with himself and Tisha and that did not want to make you open the door. But, you figured you might as well see what he wants, maybe that would make him go away faster. With a defeated sigh you unlocked your door and cracked it open so you could poke your head out.

Behind your doorway stood Shrimpo with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a sharp glare. Your relationship with Shrimpo had been a bit of an enigma for a long while now, he always said he hated you and whatever you did, just like he did with all the other toons, but after a while he seemed to get the slightest bit less bothered by your existence. Sure you were nice to him, always wishing him a goodmorning or a good day or a goodnight with a warm smile, and you never really saw him in any bad light despite his short temper and frequent dendencies to be both narcisisstic and a bully, but that was just the good samaratin within you. However, deep down you wanted someone to truly call a friend. Every toon in Gardenview had someone to call a friend, however nobody seemed to deem you worthy of that title.

You did know that the same could be said for Shrimpo, however for more obvious reasons. Truly, you hoped that one day the two of you could be friends. Although, as of recently, you would be lying if you said you didn't like him more than as a potential friend. More than once you had caught yourself thinking of how cute he was.

"What is wrong with you?!" Shrimpo shouted, and you whinced a little. "I hate hearing you cry!"

You blinked, "oh," your voice was small, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, Shrimpo." Shrimpo's room was next to yours, you wondered if he could hear you cry at night whenever your feelings overwhelmed you. "It's- It's nothing, really." While slinking back inside, an orange hand forced your door back open.

"I hate secrets! Tell me what happened, now!" He demanded.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, "I... Glisten, uh, threw some water on me. But, I'm fine now!" You smiled, yet you knew he could see through your thinly veiled façade, "really..." You could hear Shrimpo's throat rasp in a growl. "Have a good night, Shrimpo."

Your back pressed against the door with a yawn, and you heard Shrimpo stomp off. You let out a tired hum and dove under the soft covers of your bed and snuggled against a pillow before closing your eyes. Only a few minutes later you awoke to the sound of glass shattering and muffled yelling and cussing and other chatter. You got up, rubbing your eyes, and left the comfort of your room to investigate the noise.

You stopped only a few steps into the hallway leading to the kitchen. Surrounded by half of the other toons was Shrimpo beating up Glisten, and you could see Tisha to the side was targeted as well. Was he doing this because of what Glisten had done to you earlier? The thought made your heart thump a little faster and your face flush with a soothing warmth no blanket or jacket could ever offer.

"Shrimpo!" However, you couldn't just let this happen. "Shrimpo, stop!" Glisten was bleeding, blood stained the wooden flooring, the liquid coated his attacker's fists. Glisten was terrified, and Shrimpo was not relenting at all. "Please, that's enough, Shrimpo!" He could have killed him.

You had to physically drag the crustacean away from Glisten, and as soon as you did the others flocked around the flashy toon concerned and loud. As you looked at Shrimpo's face, you could see that he wasn't unscathed from this encounter, as he had cuts and some bruising around his face and arms. You also noticed how his seething expression in the fight softened to a more tame angry one once you got him away from it.

"Come on," you spoke, your arms wrapped around one of his, "I can take care of your wounds." You would much rather deal with light scratches and bruising rather than deep gashes that bled profusely. Your heart was pounding from having taken in such a gruesome sight, yet also because the one who caused it was allowing you to touch him and bring him to your room.

Closing your door and flicking the light switch on, you prompted Shrimpo to sit at the edge of your bed while you got a spare med-kit from a drawer in your bathroom. You quickly returned to your main room and sat next to Shrimpo, who looked at the floor with a softer expression that seemed more annoyed than angry. You coated a cotton ball in antibacterial alcohol and turned to the crustacean,

"Can you look at me, please? I'd like to clean your wounds," you said. He complied after a moment more of staring down your floorboards and turned his head to look at you. With a gentle hand you cupped the side of his face, "this will hurt a bit," and you softly dabbed the wet cotton ball at an open cut, earning a hiss of pain from the toon. "Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay." You couldn't help but comfort him despite the little damage he had taken. "You're gonna be okay." He had earned it, you think.

Finishing up on his face, you moved down to dab the alcohol over the cuts and bruises on his arms. With this, you failed to notice how red in the face Shrimpo was.

"Shrimpo," your voice was soft, "why did you... beat up Glisten?" You discarded the cotton ball and reapplied the alcohol onto another and dabbed the cool liquid over a mean bruise.

"Because I hate him!" You expected that answer. "I hate his face! He's always so mean to you and you never stick up for yourself! I really hate that about you!"

The cotton ball dabbing against his knuckles came to a hault, and you moved your head to look at him,

"You were... sticking up for me?" You asked, genuinely surprised.

Shrimpo's eyes widened after landing on your face and he looked away at your floorboards, his face looking reminescent of a tomato, "W-Well, of course I was!" His voice lost its personally unique angry and loud tone as he further went on, "of course I would- do- uh, I mean- I would-!!!" He promplty shut himself up.

You smiled at him, awfully flattered and sharply aware of your increased heartbeat. "How sweet of you, Shrimpo." You leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek. The toon stilled in response while you moved to return to cleaning his knuckles, you were pretty sure he stopped breathing for a bit too. You hummed while putting away your supplies back in the med-kit, going to your bathroom to return the med-kit and discard of the dirty cotton balls.

Your feet padded against the floor before stopping by the end of your bed next to Shrimpo who sat stiff as a board and still studied every atom of your floorboards, "It's very late, so I don't want to keep you," you informed, yet the other toon made no effort to move. "Oh, wait!" A lightbulb came into your mind, "Astro's hosting a sleepover tonight!" Your voice turned somber, "but, he forgot to invite us, again..." Being sleepy all the time could lead to forgetfulness, you knew. But you weren't stupid, you knew that he hadn't forgotten to invite you and Shrimpo.

A smile crept onto your features and your eyes locked onto the toon beside you, "hey, Shrimpo, why don't we have our own sleepover?"

Said toon shot his head up to you, burning with anger, "I hate that you want to do something with me!" He exclaimed. You tilted your head as he went on, "and I hate that I really really want to, as well!"

Instantaneously, your face lit up with a bright smile. "Really? I'm so glad!" You slept better having someone beside you and knowing you weren't alone, anyway. You flicked the light switch off and opened the covers of your bed after sliding to one side, patting the open space beside you. Shrimpo plopped himself down beside you with a small huff and got comfortable on his side, closing his eyes. He even slept with an angry face. Too cute!

"I'm still awake!!!" Had you said that out loud? That totally wouldn't haunt you till your final moments. Swiftly you got comfortable on your side, facing away from Shrimpo.

"Um, goodnight, Shrimpo." You heard him mutter angry nothings to himself before quieting down again. Just as you were beggining to feel sleep take you for the night, arms wrapped firmly around your middle and a face pressed against your back. You sluggishly moved a hand over one of his with a sleepy smile. You should have sleepovers more often.

If you notice any mistakes, feel free to let me know. Hope you enjoyed!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting someone fired? (this is gonna sound like a rant and i’m sorry in advance)

I. Fucking. Hate. My. Boss. he thinks he’s so fucking smart, like i hate to break it to you pal but you’re just human like the rest of us.. you can be dumb sometimes (dumb often, in fact!!) not even mentioning how disrespectful he is to those lower down the ladder. really out here thinking he knows our jobs better than we do like ?? hello ??????

anyway, so i was venting to one of my friends who also works there (outside of work hours, obviously), and we decided to kind of go to HR about it because he is making the work environment so awful (i would leave just cause of him but the pay is worth it).

HR says they’ve already had complaints about him but everyone’s afraid to do something on their own, so we start making a sort of paper trail and talking to managers about him, etc.

managers surprisingly agree to have a meeting about him, so we all show up and they were maybe a little harsh? this isn’t super relevant but he did kinda fuck my mum at one point so i maybe had a built up resentment of him lol

so, aita for kinda stabbing my coworker in the back? (literally, haha, we stabbed him like 23 times…)

What are these acronyms?

[teaboot]

if ur a murderbot nerd now do u have any fun opinions abt it yet?

Oh my goddd you have no idea

I really, really, really like Murderbot because it comes at life with this perspective we don't often see that is very real among people who have already been through traumatic experiences, who developed skills and abilities to suvive that were once useful but no longer have context- that search that traumatized people go through to recalibrate and reorient ourselves in a world where we no longer really need those things to survive.

A bit personal here, but my own issues personally involved a lot of psychological abuse that made it difficult to trust my own perceptions of reality, and as a result I found I was very easy to lie to and manipulate.

To handle this, I became obsessive over writing things down, cataloging details and making notes of things as they happened- I'd carry recording devices and make audio recordings and stay up late at night to transcribe what they'd picked up, read those over and over again to reassure myself of things I wasn't certain about.

While doing this, there were others close to me that I felt responsible for, who I had to protect from others and protect myself from at the same time. Life was about two things: Evidence, and defusing threats

Over time, I learned to trust myself as my memories matched what had been recorded where their narrative didn't, but I never really kicked the habit. Like Murderbot, I had added something to my own programming that reassured me I was safe, that I was in control of myself, that I couldn't be mistaken or crazy or broken or used.

I'm only on book two, but already I see myself in Murderbot again. No spoilers here, but when I left home- left that dangerous context- I didn't need to repeat these patterns to survive anymore, but I still did, because I didn't know anything else anymore. It felt safe, comfortable, knowing knowing that the past couldn't repeat itself, because I'd written that flaw- blind trust in myself-  out of my programming and replaced it with something else.

Still, though, I'd become something specially suited to thrive in a very specific environment. Nothing else felt right like followinghigh-risk situations, like witnessing and watching and recording and knowing I had proof of the truth where others might not.

People took notice. I wound up in security by accident, but's an environment that I thrive in due to the same patterns and behaviours I originally developed when I had no other choice. I climbed the ladder pretty quickly, once supervisors caught on that my reports were the most accurate, most objective, most factual, detail-oriented and timely. I keep others and myself safe and prioritize public safety above all else, and I perform well under pressure

Now I'm in a position where I often wonder, do I enjoy this job, or is it just what I'm good at? I have a set of skills now, but do I have the option of choosing not to use them? What would I be, if not this? Could I be anything else? Can Murderbot be anything else?

It has a set of skills that set it apart, make it different, special. It does what it knows best. But is it free? Does it want to be? What does it want? Does it have to do what it was built to do? What if it didn't?

I know what I'm good for. The idea of deliberately leaving what I'm good for for something uncertain, that I might hate, that I might be useless at- the choice to give up what was so important to me for so long and become deliberately obsolete?

Let go of my entire purpose? The only thing I know, that I fit so well into but don't actually know if I enjoy? Now that I can choose? Now that enjoyment is a luxury I can afford to consider?

Yeah, that resonates.

I like the Murderbot series so far because it feels the way I feel: Like the most significant and formative part of my story, the part where I became what I am, has already happened

And now I have to just. Keep going

Into... what?

It feels absurd. Like a microwave giving up on reheating food and deciding to start a life around abstract dance.

So, uh. Yeah. It's really very wild to see this same philosophical-ish dilemma I've been digging over in the back of my mind and in therapy for the last forever laid out so plainly in a genuinely exciting and enjoyable story like this. I feel much less alone, and I... kind of really need to see how it resolves, I think.

So, uh. Yeah. Read Murderbot, I guess