#pls bones you need to give him his heels back

[platykool]

Justice for sigma’s heels

[strangerstilinski]

𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It’s like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

“Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you are hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and the boy's chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I don't think any of us were that invested hearing you talk about the ‘big tip’ that some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve, c'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugged, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet. It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just 'cause you're a jackass that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you as the rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“Well I don't care if some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “So, I guess, if that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, and I'm able to do so without acting like a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? That was the highlight of your day, because the rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. You'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks squelching wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd burned yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had no choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what? Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the turn in your evening.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, like he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm still struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

Steve's voice does make you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around. Your steps finally come to a stop when he calls out to you again.

“C'mon, honey wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath as he finally catches up with you, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that’s begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back around. You lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. There’s warmth seeping into your palms from beneath Steve’s tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from inside. Your eyes are level with his chin, wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You’re still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly.

It’s only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face smelling of the gum he’s always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he’s leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can’t think, and you’re not sure you’re even breathing, but his lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You’re gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve’s arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when your lips separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you’re gasping comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve’s quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

“You kissed me.” The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — casual, tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he’s kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve’s breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D’you want me to stop?”

“No. Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The light shining above your heads catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to shut you up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it takes ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It’s like there are hearts in his eyes.

[atticssmellgood]

hey babe!! can you do the 16 and 17 with alex, pls? 🥺

Tired

Alex Turner x GN!reader(no specific pronouns used)

Prompt(s) requested: “How Are you so comfy?” + Person A falls asleep on person B

Word count: 1k

CW: None❤️

A/N: I’m honestly so happy you requested these specific prompts lmao, I’ve always loved the idea of cuddling with Alex, I feel like he would be so sweet😭 anyways, hope you enjoy!

P. S. I feel like all of my fics end in sleeping I need a new way to close out💀

Alex groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sat slumped over his small notebook, scribbled out lyrics and messy handwriting decorating the pages.

Why was it that whenever he actually wanted to get some songwriting done, he couldn’t? Lately the inspiration seemed to slip out of his hands every time he picked up the pen, leaving him stuck and stressed. Most times, he would just end up in a significantly lower mood with nothing more than what he started with.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression, too many thoughts swirling around in his head to possibly make sense of any of them.

Eventually he stood up and stretched, his limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion and a yawn coming from his mouth.

Alex hadn’t been able to get much sleep recently due to the amount of time he’d been spending on the new album, but he could never seem to rest when he was so focused on why his brain wasn’t working the way he wanted it to.

Before Alex could let out another loud groan of frustration, he heard the front door open and he couldn’t have been more relieved.

“Alex?” You called out tentatively, not sure if he was home from the studio just yet. You made your way to the kitchen and sat your car keys on the counter with a jingle before hearing footsteps coming towards you. All of the sudden you were pulled into a warm hug, a kiss falling onto your forehead softly.

“Welcome home darling…” Alex whispered as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. You could already tell from his quiet voice and the way he leaned his body on yours that he had a long day. Your suspicions were confirmed when you pulled away from his embrace to get a good look at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his expression looked overall drained. It didn’t take a genius to realize he needed some food and rest.

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek gently, stroking the apex of his cheekbone with your thumb in a loving manner. Alex’s hands still sat on your hips as he leaned into your palm and closed his eyes. A small sigh left his lips when he felt the tension in his muscles slowly dissipate, replaced with a warm feeling that seeped into his bones and gripped at his heart.

“You look miserable, Al.” you giggled quietly, continuing to stroke his cheek. Although disguised as a light-hearted joke, Alex could hear the worried undertone in your voice.

“It’s just some writer’s block, nothing to worry about.” He mumbled and pulled you a little closer.

You let out a little hum and let him rest his chin on your shoulder.

“You know I could be wrong but I’m pretty sure writers block doesn’t cause you to look like you haven’t slept in a week.” Your voice was a little more concerned now as you rub his back lightly “what’s wrong?”

Alex let out a small groan and snaked his arms fully around your waist, squeezing you tight and beginning to sway the both of you from side to side slowly. His body heat engulfs you in a comforting embrace and you could still smell a bit of the cologne he liked to put on before he left in the mornings. “it’s…” he starts, speaking tentatively “I’ve just been really stressed lately with the non-stop recording in the studio and it doesn’t help when I can’t seem to write properly anymore.” His voice is quiet and clearly exhausted. You once again pull back, this time giving him a soft kiss on the lips, then one on his nose. He closed his eyes and gave a sleepy little smile.

“Why don’t we go to sleep, yeah?” You brush a piece of hair out of his eyes “I think you really need it. And who knows? Maybe it’ll clear your writer’s block.” You smiled sweetly before Alex just nods in agreement.

His mind did feel a bit foggy from the lack of sleep. Maybe that was the problem?

Without another word, you stepped out of his embrace to take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

Alex immediately laid on the bed, his eyes already beginning to close until he noticed you didn’t lay next to him. He glances over to see you taking off your shirt so you could change into something more comfortable than your work clothes.

He chuckled before reaching over to grabbing your arm and pull you onto the mattress with a sly grin.

You let out a little yelp and before you knew it, Alex’s full body weight was resting on top of you, effectively trapping you underneath him.

“Alex! You couldn’t wait five more seconds?” You laugh, still topless as he hadn’t given you the chance to put a shirt on.

“Nope.” He said with a satisfied expression “You were already taking too long.”

His head was resting on your chest comfortably, his soft brown hair tickling your bare skin.

You just laughed at his response, then snuck a gentle hand into his hair.

His features seemed to relax once you did this as his eyes fluttered shut and a small smile played at his lips.

You ran your fingers through the thick strands, nails occasionally scratching his scalp. The more you did this, the more he relaxed. The stress he held in his tense muscles looked as if it was melting away slowly with each brush of your hand on his hair.

“How are you so comfy?” Alex mumbled, nuzzling into your chest with a contented sigh. You just smiled as you gazed at him, leaning forward a bit to place a soft kiss on the top of his head.

He loved the spot he was in because he could press his ear right against where your heart was and listen to it beat with a steady rhythm. All the thoughts and worries in his mind were quieting down to mere whispers as he focused on the soft thumping in your chest. This was what he knew he needed.

Moments after that, you heard his breathing slow, indicating that he was indeed asleep.

You continued to stroke his hair in a loving manner even as he slept. The weight of his body on yours was comforting and it wasn’t long until you began to fall asleep underneath him, uttering a barely audible “Sweet dreams, my love” and letting your eyes flutter shut.

[pascalispretty]

Come Take It Out On Me

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2034

Warnings: enemies to lovers, snark, bondage, softly dominant Javi, oral sex (f receiving) (Javier Peña eats pussy like a champ), teasing

Summary: You and Javier may not know how to talk, but you certainly know how to fuck. (ao3)

Notes: Written for the lovely @survivingandenduring for the Space Sister's Valentines! The first fic I ever wrote on here was Javier Peña and enemies to lovers, and your prompt was such an inspiration to revisit that whole vibe. Also the song 'Good in Bed' by Dua Lipa was a major inspo. I hope you enjoy! (also unbeta'd because I cracked a bone in my foot, pls be gentle).

It’s late when you get back to your apartment. You had taken yourself out for a drink after work, dressing up in a tight black dress and a swipe of red lipstick. But the admiring looks and offers to buy you another drink irritated you more than they flattered you. Instead, you had made your way over to a payphone and punched in an all-too familiar number.

“Hey, Peña. You wanna come over and fuck?”

Not particularly subtle, but it got the message across.

Back home, you pour yourself a drink and settle in to wait. Your heels are pinching your toes, so you kick them off. You’re vaguely aware of the room becoming warmer, the heat clicking on as the temperature drops.

You’re topping up your wine when there’s a loud knock at the door. You nearly roll your eyes when you open it. Javier Peña has his arm braced against the doorframe, leaning into it like he’s posing for an advertisement for the tight Levi jeans he’s wearing.

“Hello, Javier. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me,” you tell him, lifting your wineglass to your lips. He takes it out of your hand in a smooth gesture, draining it and shoving it back into your hand as he walks into your apartment.

“I wish,” he mutters, pausing to light a cigarette and helping himself to a glass of scotch from your bar. “I was late at the embassy; a knot needed untangling that had ‘CIA’ written all over it. The Castaño brothers seem to think you’ll hand them the whole country.” You top up your wine, smirking at him over the rim of the glass.

“You have a very misguided perception of what we do, Agent Peña. It’s not all toppling governments and hobnobbing with dictators.” Sitting on the armchair across from him, you tip your glass in a mock toast.

He sits with his legs spread apart, the tight jeans hiding absolutely nothing as he watches you. The silver-blue haze of his cigarette smoke hangs in the air between you, giving his features a strangely soft edge.

“Well, if anyone could find common ground with a dictator it would be you.”

“And yet, you’re here. What does that say about you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. It almost always starts this way. The two of you can’t seem to help needling at one another, determined not to let a jab go unanswered. He’s too holier-than-thou for your liking sometimes, pretending that the DEA’s hands are so much cleaner than that of the CIA.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the two of you discovered that all that tension somehow translated into pretty phenomenal sex.

“It says that payday is at the end of the month, and I can’t afford my usual.” Peña says, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Besides, you buy the good stuff.” He drinks more of his drink, pulling the ashtray closer with his free hand. You appreciate that even though he doesn’t particularly like you, he draws the line at ruining your rug.

“What can I say, I appreciate quality.” You say nonchalantly. “Which is why you’re here right now, and not some random stranger who couldn’t find a clitoris with a map.”

“We all have our talents. Are you going to sit over there all night? Even I might have trouble finding it from that far away.” He says it casually, but you know him well enough by now to pick up on the undercurrent of need in his voice.  He’s not alone. That annoyingly familiar need had been making itself known in the pit of your stomach all night, that insistent itch that only Agent Javier Peña could really scratch.

You uncurl from the armchair, setting your wine down on the table. Javier looks up at you with those beautiful dark eyes as you settle into his lap. The seams of your dress strain to accommodate his body between your thighs, and you swear you hear a few stitches popping.

Up close, you can breathe the scent of him in. The leather of his jacket and the tobacco of his cigarettes mixes with something heady and masculine and him. You have no other word for it. You imagine that it would sell like crazy if somebody managed to bottle it as a cologne.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, looping your arms around his neck. He nods, eyes trailing down your body, lingering on the neckline of your dress.

“The view has improved.” He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast where your dress leaves it exposed. His moustache prickles the sensitive skin, his lips quick to soothe the scratch.

Your fingers slide into his thick hair. He’s still holding his glass and his still-lit cigarette, so after a moment he pulls away.

“I’d rather not light your rug on fire,” he says, leaning around you to flick the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. With his now-free hand, he cups one of your breasts, squeezing gently. “You should wear dresses like this more often.”

“I’m sure that’d go down really well at work,” you tease, sucking in your breath as he hooks his index finger into the neckline, tugging it down further. The lace of your bra peeks out, the red vivid against the black of your dress.

Peña ducks his head again, trailing more kisses across the newly-exposed skin. Every brush of his lips is only making you wetter, even if he’s not doing much to encourage it. Bastard.

Though it’s not wholly unfair. You can feel him starting to harden underneath you, and you can’t help rocking your hips against him in encouragement. He nips at the curve of your breast, before leaning back.

“Take your dress off.” He gives you a little nudge with his hand, as if he wants you off his lap.

“So bossy, Peña,” you sigh, letting your nails scratch his scalp. You feel the shudder that runs through him, but he’s persistent.

“You like it when I’m bossy. Get up, and take your dress off.” He’s right. He might not know how you like your coffee or when your birthday is. But if there’s one thing Javier Peña knows, it’s what you like in bed.

You slide off his lap reluctantly, standing in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. While he finishes the dregs of his drink, Javier runs his eyes over you. There’s something so hungry in that look, like he’s deciding where to begin with a delicious feast.

The dress zips in the back, and you have to twist awkwardly to catch at the tab. With another man, it might make you feel self-conscious. But with Javier, all you can see is the want in him. The fabric loosens around your shoulders as you undo the zip, and you shrug the dress off in one fluid motion.

Peña casts an appreciative eye over your lingerie, leaning forward in his seat. When he reaches to set his glass down on the coffee table, he shifts so close that his hair nearly tickles your abdomen. A soft, disappointed sound escapes you when he doesn’t touch you, when he doesn’t take the opportunity to haul you back into his lap. Instead he just looks up at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Gorgeous,” Javier murmurs, almost to himself. With one last lingering sweep down your body, he stands up. There’s barely an inch between you, your calves bumping against the edge of the coffee table as you shift back to accommodate him.

“Take me to bed?” You ask. Peña doesn’t say anything for a moment. One of his large hands comes up to cradle your jaw with a gentleness that never fails to surprise you. His fingers are warm on your skin, and you find yourself melting into his touch once more.

“Bed,” he agrees, his thumb gently sweeping over your lower lip before his hand drops back to his side. You lead him towards your bedroom, even though he knows the way by now. He’s been here more times than you can count.

At the threshold of your bedroom, Javier loops his arms around your waist. Your back moulds against his chest, his nose brushing your temple as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Do you want the belt tonight?” He murmurs, and you nearly melt into a puddle at his feet. The belt is something Javier indulges you in occasionally. He’d drawn a hard line at bringing his handcuffs into the bedroom. The two of you had compromised with softer things; a silk scarf, his ties, a pair of stockings. And, of course, his belt.

“Yes please.” Your eyelashes flutter closed as Javier presses soft kisses down the line of your neck, humming contentedly against the skin. His clever fingers have your bra undone before you realise he’s moved his hands, and you let him slip it off you without complaint.

One of his hands moves to your waist, encouraging you to turn around. Every brush of his fingertips sends more warmth pooling in your core, the gentle brushes of his skin against yours making you shudder. Without him having to ask, you offer him your wrists.

Peña takes his belt off with one hand, a move that you’re almost certain he’s practised. It’s so attractive that you don’t even tease him about it. Instead, you find yourself taking a shaky breath as he loops the soft leather carefully around your wrists.

You could slip out with ease if you wanted to – it’s part of the reason Javier agreed to the belt as a compromise when you’d asked him to tie you up. You’re at a loss to explain why the buttery leather around your wrists makes you feel so good. Satisfied that it’s not too tight around your wrists, Javier gives you a small, but unmistakable, smile.

With a gentle push of his hand on your waist, Javier encourages you backwards until you’re lying on the bed, your arms stretched above your head.

“Que bonita,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs. He’s still fully clothed, aside from his belt, and it makes you feel more exposed by comparison. One of his warm palms slides up your leg, squeezing the inside of your thigh before coming to rest agonisingly close to your core.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” One of his fingers brushes against your core, making you jump. “You’ve soaked your pretty panties.” The edge in his voice makes you whimper, your legs falling further apart for him. He slides your underwear off with ease, and before you can catch your breath, the warm heat of his mouth envelops your clit.

It’s nearly painful, how good it feels. His full lips wrap carefully around the bud of nerves, applying just enough pressure to make you wail. Your head is spinning with the pleasure of it, your world shrinking down to your body and Javier’s mouth. You clutch at the pillows above your head, moaning with abandon. Fuck your neighbours. If they knew Javier Peña, they’d understand.

He lets go of your clit and nuzzles against your slick folds, his tongue lapping hungrily at your flesh. The noises he’s making are obscene, muffled groans mixing in with the wet sounds of his mouth.

Then, as abruptly as he’d started eating you out, he stops. The loss of his mouth is devastating, and you’re about to wail at the unfairness when his hand slides up your body. His warm palm forms a loose necklace about your throat as he looks down at you, his chin wet with your slick.

“If I let you come while I eat your pussy, do you promise to let me make you come on my cock too?” He asks. He’s entirely serious; you’ve never met anyone who takes pleasure quite so seriously.

“God, yes. Knew I did the right thing by calling you,” you tell him, practically slurring your words. He gives you that smile again, a gleam in his eye as he trails kisses down your body.

“You can always call me, baby.”

[mail-me-a-snail]

pls i hope you give us your Vance related PL thoughts one day <3 I’m sure he has a normal time of it

oh man. i could gush for hours about phantom liberty. dlcs dont usually engage me--the most "recent" exception having been destiny 2's last dlc with activision, forsaken--but phantom liberty gripped me by the membrane and throttled me within an inch of my life.

i mean, if it did that to me, imagine what it did to vance.

(spoilers follow)

it isn't 't the first time vance has gotten a holo from an unknown number.

that's the biz; most clients want secrecy. the private type don't trust fixers--they don't do middlemen. they cut straight to the point. vance has dealt with these kinds of clients before. they don't know the streets like he does; they don't give a shit to, either.

they give him the gist of what they want done; the finer details don't matter. job's a job--as long as he takes care of the gonk who needs flatlining, or klep whatever needs klepping, the scratch'll come through, no problem.

that's how it's supposed to go.

but songbird opens with this: she knows what's happening to him. she knows about the relic's slow poison; she knows about vance, who he was, is, and pretends to be; and she knows how to help.

the promise of a cure colors her tone, but she knows better than to make it here and now on the holo. so she asks vance to meet her at the gate to dogtown.

vance is fresh off a gig. he's maybe a kilometer from dogtown proper, can see the open, rounded top of the stadium peeking out from behind the buildings in the distance. black smoke rises over the skyline. seems there's always a fire in dogtown.

he had been nursing a cigarette on his bike--jackie's arch--when songbird had called him. he flicks what remains of the cigarette onto the pavement. grinds it out under his heel. he mounts the arch.

private-types always end up asking to meet at a secondary location.

this--this part of the routine that's been ingrained in him for the past year or so--he knows how to follow.

--

the malfunction tears through his parts with the precision of a ripper's scalpel.

it knows where to curl its long, electric-blue fingers in his internal wires. it knows how hard to tug; it doesn't stop, either. the force of it sours, taut, in the back of vance's throat.

the silver prongs connected to his spine rattle. they shake until they buzz--then that buzz sharpens into ringing. one constant note, ringing into eternity, rising without changing pitch.

it aches from within vance's very teeth. sits heavy on his useless tongue--the same tongue he fears that he'll end up biting during one of these seizures.

there was a time when the relic thought him still human. it's only recently that it's learned the true nature of its host. it's only recently that it's found out how much more it can feed on.

it's only recently that it's started affecting johnny, too.

he doesn't know how it happens--doesn't know if johnny's starting to share his pain, or if they're feeling each other's in a tenuous feedback loop.

either way, the relic is decaying, and it's taking them with it.

vance curls up against the nearest solid mass he can find; remembers he has to breathe; forgets, exactly, how to do that; reaches for johnny, who's seizing right in front of him--

and songbird reaches back.

she touches his shoulder. her hand carries no weight other than that of buzzing static. the sound bleeds into the malfunction's miasma of noise. she speaks, carefully, calmly, but whatever she says, the relic swallows.

her words seem to please it, however--because a few moments later, the malfunction trickles away. it leaves nothing in its wake but a bone-deep soreness and a few blue tessellations crackling across johnny's non-corporeal form.

the large lapels of songbird's jacket curl around her throat. beneath that and a number of colorful pins, she wears a rather nondescript netrunning suit in contrast. vance doesn't miss the cyberdeck attached to her hip.

she looks like any other runner. in fact, vance had traipsed around night city in something similar an eternity ago--only difference being the absence of his team colors of hexagonal red-and-black.

but she's got no symbols of her own. no iconography denoting her allegiance to any one patron. he would've taken her for one of the afterlife's enny-a-dozen netrunners, then--had it not been for the fact that she could see johnny.

she touches him, too. she grasps the ghost's shoulder as easily as if--as if...she were a ghost herself.

data crackles in vance's ear; it's not the relic's tell-tale, almost musical blue purr. he usually welcomes the sound because it means johnny's somewhere around him, some lame-ass quip ready to fall from his lips.

but this data is red and black and angry and alive.

it writhes; spits; it takes johnny with it.

for the first time in the past few months, vance's head falls quiet.

it's so quiet that the absence feels more like a cavity.

it aches like one, too.

she's not like any other runner, if she can do that.

the realization leaves him reeling with more than just the after-effects of a relic malfunction: it's got him dizzy with the idea that she's like him.

--

songbird doesn't win vance over by taking johnny away from him. he can feel her confusion with that underlying her every instruction, but she's got bigger things to worry about.

ask any of the techies from his arasaka days and they'd tell you this: vance is the last person to give a shit about the president of the NUSA.

he's not an NUSA citizen; he's especially not about to lick her heels just 'cause she used to run militech, either. his parents had fought in the war she had started all those years ago--it's in his corpo blood to hate her, or, at least, what she stands for.

but a job's a job, and song's not gonna give johnny up until vance swallows his pride.

he'll do as she says. he's got too much to lose not to.

--

that same red data plays with vance's surroundings as songbird talks to him. she props open doors; gets rusted old elevators groaning back to life; all from the relative safety of--wherever she is.

that takes skill. splitting himself in two like that--he could never pull that trick off, not for lack of trying.

granted, arasaka hadn't built him to be stationary. they had made sure he'd always be on the move. they had grafted an entire torso's worth of realskinn onto him so his machine parts could breathe in the cool, polluted air of night city as he ran through its gutter-like streets.

and that living data--it's as bright as copper and just as conducive; it carries with it that same, rotting taste. it's not just any fancy code. it's not even something that could be called a runner's signature; calling it that would imply it's likely to allow someone ownership.

that code isn't just black with ICE--it is ICE. it's several layers of thick, hostile ICE.

vance had only seen such a thing in cyberspace. way out there, lurking on the horizon, ever-present and closely guarded.

(because of the highly personalized nature of cyberspace, perhaps vance had invited it to stay).

even with his pull in arasaka's ranks, neither the techies or netwatch would've ever let him touch the blackwall.

but song's got it eating out of the palm of her hand.

...which means rosalind myer's been keeping what she doesn't understand on a leash for the past decade, and no one's been the wiser.

not even arasaka.

later, when he looks rosalind in the eye as he digs the tracker out of her neck--his touch comes too soft for someone like her, he realizes, though he doesn't do so on purpose--he wonders if she knows who, or what, he is.

if, if she does, then she must know what arasaka had intended him to be--why wouldn't she, after all, when song had been the one to order him after her?

--

johnny fills their first night in dogtown with doubt.

"this a normal tuesday for ya, v?" he asks vance. the ghost sits backwards on a rusted old folding chair in front of him. "savin' the skin of the fuckin' president of the NUSA?"

"sure," vance answers. he can't sleep. hasn't tried.

they both listen to myers breathing on the next mattress over for few moments.

then, he continues, quieter this time. "way things'll be goin', seems we're punchin' hansen's ticket same time next week."

johnny rests his chin on his crossed arms. his chrome arm gleams in the low, blue light coming from what could generously be called a window.

"think you're gonna be outta here that fast?" johnny shakes his head. "ain't how quick myers and her ilk operate."

"bureaucracy, that it? gotta wait for the paperwork to zero hansen?"

(he's not a stranger to the concept, but he had figured he had left that sort of thing behind.)

the ghost hums as the thought passes through their shared subconscious.

"'s not the NUSA tellin' ya to zero 'im. that's how they do biz: they get an idea in your head, and--'fore ya know it--they're washing their hands of you."

vance sighs; one long, full body sigh, broad shoulders rising and falling with it. this scop again.

he eases backwards into the mattress that he sits on. a spring digs against his back. he runs his hands down his face; the monowire pads pressed into his palms are marble smooth on his cheeks. he sets his hands on his chest.

data purrs--relic blue, this time--as johnny manifests beside him.

the latter turns his head to the former. johnny's eyes remain on the ceiling; his features are hard to discern from the stark shadows falling across his face. his long hair fans out around him. it's easy to forget, sometimes, especially in quiet moments like this, that johnny isn't even really there.

vance takes the illusion as it is, without question, and follows johnny's eyes to the popcorned ceiling.

"don't doubt you know what you're talkin' about," vance offers.

"but you're still gonna help 'er," johnny counters, quickly.

"mmhmm."

he makes a show of sighing. "why am i not surprised?"

"'cause you'd do the same."

"bullshit."

"so, yer sayin'--" vance props himself up on one elbow, dog tags coming to dangle around his neck-- "that even if there's a pretty damn real possibility of gettin' you off the relic--

"--big fuckin' if, don't ya think--"

"--you ain't even gonna stick around to find out if it's true?"

"there it is again--if, v, if."

"but what if it is true?" vance tips his head. "what if song really could help us?"

johnny finally looks at him. his lips are pressed into a thin line; he's not pleased. "what the hell was it that i just said, v? they get an idea in yer head--"

"--then they wash their hands of ya. i know." he lies back down, the motion a concession in and of itself. "heard ya the first time."

"ya got too much hope than what's good for ya, v." johnny turns on his side to face him. "'s how they get their claws in you. promise you one thing, quid-pro-quo, and they'll lead you down a shithole of your own makin'. just can't see how far you've dug yourself 'til you're lookin' up from rock bottom."

"fuck," vance breathes, amused. he meets johnny's eyes with a grin. "run that last line by me one more time, johnny--gotta make sure i got it down for the silverhand doctrine."

"oh--" johnny laughs, dry but warm-- "fuck off, v."

--

vance meets reed in the following days; he had almost missed the pressure of a gun nestling between his ribs. then, alex, if that really is her name this time.

he sees how the years between them have soured--both the time they had spent on the field together, and the time they had spent apart afterwards.

he learns how song had betrayed reed--on rosalind's orders.

just how far does the shithole go?

can't answer that without stopping to look up.

and they can't stop, not yet; hansen's playing diplomat with night city's brightest and boldest, songbird's in her cage, and the black sapphire's looking like the place to be.

--

vance doesn't miss johnny's glance over--doesn't miss how quickly johnny looks away when he catches the ghost staring, either.

the shell of johnny's ear and the red piercings clipped into the cartilage face vance. the latter pale in comparison to the blush dusting johnny's scruffy cheek.

vance sidles up to him--away from reed's eyes--and leans into his space. the black mesh stretching across his stomach and chest whispers with the motion. it's soft against his exposed skin. he tucks his hands behind his back.

"like what you see?" vance teases, in a murmur.

johnny finds the sea of other brightly colored guests very interesting all of a sudden. he's so intrigued by them that he doesn't dignify vance's question with a response.

--

it's at the black sapphire that vance sees so mi for what she really is: little of flesh, all machine. myers had not done for song what arasaka had done for vance; she hadn't deigned to hide the true nature of her prize netrunner.

white, block letters run up song's spine and spell MILITECH. myers hadn't bothered hide the mark of her allegiance, either.

or, perhaps, the mark of her owner.

embossed letters spell ARASAKA on vance's innermost machine parts. when he sees song's back for the first time, he swears he can almost feel those letters start to itch.

--

even after vance learned what song had done to reed; had learned how far she was willing to go; how much she was willing to give; he would have never turned her in.

it's not because reed and alex had needlessly killed the two netrunners they had stolen the identities of. it's not because reed makes his skin crawl, reminding him too much of white, sterile clinics and martyr-like vows of loyalty and the absence of a worthwhile life outside of bureaucratic routine. it's not because of so mi's promise to help him, either.

he doesn't turn her in because if it had been him in her shoes--and it could've very easily turned out that way for him, had arasaka pushed him a little farther--he would've done anything to be free, too.

she is not like him--that implies they're on equal footing.

no, she is exactly what arasaka had wanted. she is what they had spent ten years trying to (unknowingly) replicate. she is the perfection of red and black and angry and alive data.

she had existed this whole time--and vance had had no idea.

he and johnny have a bond that goes beyond flesh and bone and chrome. if there's ever a day where they're finally separated, vance will think that separation only superficial.

but vance and songbird...

songbird is the netrunner vance would've been had arasaka kept going. if they hadn't resigned to throwing him out when they deemed him "obsolete".

if song hadn't chipped through the blackwall of her own volition--would rosalind myers, former ceo of arasaka's rival company militech, still have kept her around?

if vance had gone against arasaka's wishes and interacted with the blackwall--would they have called him obsolete?

would he have even met johnny? so mi?

how deep would they have been willing to dig themselves if it meant having a chance at survival?

it's like johnny had said--can't answer that without looking up from rock bottom.

but all vance sees is song leaving him behind; all he sees is the promise she had never truly made; all he sees are stars.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

s/o, who used to work as a stripper, started dancing a professional super sexy striptease one day at a party while they were drunk? Main skelly pls🫶🫶🫶

Undertale Sans - He is bright blue. He knows he should do something, everyone is watching, but man his brain just stopped working. He can't focus and he can see now from where comes Papyrus's inability to do so. Sans eventually decides to drag you out when you get a little too far in throwing your clothes around and teleports you home. He then tries to put you to bed, as you insist you want to end the striptease only with him. PLEASE. STOP. He can't.

Undertale Papyrus - Oh, he's staring and he is really not hiding it. Maybe he's also a little too drunk because he can't stop giggling at your antics. He kinda wholly forgot there are people around. His eyes are on you and you only.

Underswap Sans - OK, that's enough for today, he's taking you home. You whine and complain as he drags you out, but he's stronger than you. He gently pushes you inside the car and then uses green magic to calm you down a little.

Underswap Papyrus - He's staring, mouth wide open, the face entirely orange. Everyone is cheering and stays kind, so he doesn't feel like dragging you out. He's just so in love right now. He could never leave you.

Underfell Sans - Despite how horny he is right now, there's no way he lets his friends stare at his S/O like that. He's teleporting them home lol. He's too jealous to share. Though, if you want to keep going home, he will gladly say nothing, you know. He will stop you if you try to get under the bones though. You're too drunk for this.

Underfell Papyrus - He sighs, then throws his coat on your shoulders and picks you up like a child to go home. You're whining and complaining, squirming around, but that's no use. Edge puts you in bed and guards you all night to make sure you're ok and don't need help with the hangover to come in the morning.

Horrortale Sans - He was not there since parties are giving him headaches, but a neighbor called him to ask to pick you up. He's coming in the middle of the night to fetch you. He didn't expect to find you only in underwear, but oh well. He helps you put your clothes back on and then carries you home, purring to soothe you as you're falling asleep.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow panics when you threaten to get rid of your pants and might or might have not thrown a bone behind your head to knock you out. Well, it's effective. Though you're going to wake up with a huge headache and no memory of what happened. Willow says it's the hangover, but you can tell his voice is strangely high-pitched.

Swapfell Sans - He's flushing deep purple as Rus, Undyne and Alphys are teasing him to death. He has to do something. But what. Oh. He suddenly screams someone has a gun and uses the confusion to shoot twice on the ceiling. Everyone screams and starts to run. Nox grabs his S/O and teleports home without anyone noticing. He then pushes you towards the couch, lecturing you and saying you better not vomit on it.

Swapfell Papyrus - Rus is as drunk as you are. He asks a random girl for her high heels, jumps on the table and joins you to dance. Alphys calls Nox when you both start to sing horribly wrong, refusing to let go of the karaoke mics. Nox comes, stares at you two, half-naked, for a long minutes, then turns around and leaves. Nope. He doesn't know any of you.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He lets you have your fun. However if one of the guests is staring too much, he growls at them like a wild animal to shoo them away. After like 20 minutes, there's no one but the two of you in the room, as he's standing guard in front of you, making sure nothing gets close. He's enjoying the show as well, he's not going to lie.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's too anxious and prefers to drag you home before you get too excited. He teleports you home and then puts you in bed. He then joins you to hug you protectively, standing guard. You puke on his hoodie. Ew. After that, Coffee goes to sleep on the couch. He's pouting in the morning, all grumpy because he didn't have his night cuddles.

[acapelladitty]

Ooh ooh Scriddler T pls

An obscure AU? Gotta throw another bone to my Hellraiser AU (Part 2: Electric Boogaloo).

Fresh agony ripped through Edward, the shock of it taking his breath away, as a fresh incision stripped free another small patch of skin from his chest while the good doctor continued to work away slowly at his latest masterpiece.

Begging had proven useless and his pathetic pleading had only served to please the monster before him as it wore the guise of his lover to inflict this never-ending hell on him.

"You seem determined to deny the truth of who I am, Edward." Disappointment laced Crane's tone as he dropped the small scalpel which was stained with Edward's fresh blood to the small tray of tools that lay at his disposal. "I remain your lover but my eyes have been opened beyond the limitations of humanity. A gift from our new lord and one which you will come to appreciate too."

"You are not Jonathan Crane."

The needles which protruded from beneath Crane's grimy fingernails glinted in the low lighting and their tips were razor-sharp as they traced a soft line across his outer thigh, scoring the skin there with four perfect lines which were quick to bleed as a pained gasp broke free of Edward's throat.

"Oh, but I am." Crane countered, straightening to the best of his ability despite the thick wooden board which was held against his shoulders by two thick rivets which were punctured through the bones of his right and left shoulder.

A perfect scarecrow, pinned into a permanent position.

Pain making his word slur, Edward shook his head despite the dizziness, "You're not h-"

"How many times did we play our games?" The heel of Crane's palm came to grind roughly against the hardened length of Edward's cock, the arousal there causing a wicked flush of shame and desire to shudder through him as his knees parted to allow easier access. "How many nights did we stop ourselves from carving our claim of the other into their flesh? We settled on using only our teeth and nails to punish the other for our affections but we no longer need to hold back."

Dragging a single needle down the side of Edward's neck, his yelp of agony was smothered by a heated groan as soft lips replaced the harsh metal; a dexterous tongue lapping at the spilled blood like a cat enjoying some particularly rich cream.

"We can tear each other to shreds without reprisal. To discover the very depths of sensation and fear together using our flesh as a canvas which can be torn apart and stitched together as often as we wish. Pain and pleasure, fear and love, indistinguishable. You need only give in and accept it."

Almost delirious from the conflict of the sensations which were attacking him, agony and ecstacy in every pore, Edward screamed once more as another patch was taken from his chest as Jonathan continued to carve out a question mark from his very skin.

[notallwonder]

...here we go... Criminal Minds 16x07 "What Doesn't Kill Us", directed by the lovely Aisha Tyler. I've been looking forward to this (at my own peril)!

Spoilers + nonsense under the cut...

oh I love this stupid show

I also love PB's voice in the previouslies (and in anything)

lol "SOMEWHERE IN WEST VIRGINIA"

oh nightmare. these types of buried alive plots always give me the heebie jeebies

dafuq? is she like in the air ducts? dafuq? screaming? eeep

WTAF IS GOING ON - so this crimey part has me hooked

HELLO HOTTIE!!! *waves*

oh..."a development"...

Attorney General time! pls be CCH Pounder pls pls

"after being assaulted, drugged, and killed in the line of duty, what's the worst that could happen?" LOOOLLLLL

okay, not CCH Pounder but still an authoritative Black woman as Attorney General

Aw, Dave. capisce?

Okay. First of all. AG calls our resident hottie by her first name. I am inclined to believe this means maybe they have some prior acquaintance, or the AG makes a point of knowing her people well (plus Emily is Bigfoot LegendaryTM). Secondly...Prentiss, really putting yourself on the line here offering your resignation! And Dougie boy backs her up, for the first time ever.

AG is right they have been getting tunnel vision. But also - they just had 2 agents blown up on the Sicarius case. Seems...appropriate to focus on it. ANyway

omg Emily's face - hilARIOUS expression. must rewatch 5 times.

(this feels like the episode that PB tweeted about shooting a while back, where she had to run around with a gun in a hospital in high heels)

return of awful expositional dialogue. my fav

WE'RE NOT SHORTHANDED EMILY??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? IS SOMEONE ELSE HEEEEEREEE?

(I paused it here to cross my fingers for Agent Jordan Todd)

oh boohoo that was a waste of pausing. so we've conscripted Mr. Noodle. But like...does he have any investigative skills? I thought we agreed he was a hedge fund manager with a badge...I mean I know that was just a put down but...

Powerpoint Presentation Ken Doll Director Bailey is not the humor I wanted or needed. (Prentiss' sidelong glance at Rossi is a teeny bit funny)

Hmmmmm. Emily throws Noodle a bone, asking him to keep tabs on missing persons reports. A little thaw between them, since he's shown himself to be more on her side. I approve. BUT it makes me a teensy bit nervous that they might eventually smush these two characters together in a non-platonic sorta way. Hoping not.

Aw, the family that jokes about murder together...ruh roh.

"real reason" - did Elias kill his parents?

Aw, the family that fantasizes about murder together...ruh roh.

Luke is lookin' FOIN in that leather jacket this ep

"double boss" lol yes

Ok, may I just say, thank you to wardrobe for putting Prentiss in something other than those super wide-leg slacks once again? The wide-leg slacks looked great, don't get me wrong. But they're a different vibe (and I guess not as good for field work as jeans/skinny whatevers) (although we all know CARGO PANTS would be better for field work!! PLEASE UNIVERSE GIVE ME BACK THE CARGO PANTS)

And here we have a perfectly serviceable conversation among the BAU ladies (minus Tara) (plus a noodle). Yes, it's case-related. I still hope for an actual conversation between JJ and Emily that has something to do with not murder. But the vibes of this convo are great - upbeat, well-oiled machine and all that. Doesn't feel weird to me at all.

OKAYYYYYYY AHAHAHAA this scene!! I love it! *heart eyes emoji* Angry Emily! Emily & Garcia rapport! Garcia is funny but also came to her senses (SORT OF)!! Consequences! But yeah, that could be majorly problematic in a prosecution.

It feels like Noodle is working on his investigative Boy Scout badge. ...what, was he inspired by watching Emily's performance?

WAIT A SECOND. There was a jemily GLANCE!!! hallelujah, my lowest bar dreams have come TRUE!!! *dancing in the streets*

I still don't know quite what to make of Dougie Noodle's transformation into a sympathetic (?) ally... but I'm not alone in that, as evidenced by that glance between JJ and Emily. (y'all they did it! they did it! they glanced!)

the crimey wimey part is CREEPIN ME OUT BIG TIME

sigh of relief, Moose's owner is NOT dead! lucky girl.

this is an episode in which our heroes talk to each other, and I am here for it! Penelope supporting Tara. And then promptly fucking up her own life choices. Oh, babygirl. :)

Ugh Doug NOodle, that was SO CHEESY. "An FBI agent once told me..." I was ALMOST starting to like you.

Funny how they write the university admin guy objecting to sending personnel records to the FBI as a "liability issue" and not on the grounds that it's essentially a huge fishing expedition by the FBI from which the university might be inclined to protect its employees and students (lol, in a world different from the one in which we live).

ruh roh...Sicarius seems to be hurtling toward a break, a... devolution if you will

creepy fairy lights in the air duct, awesome, hate it. aw man this is fucked up. oh jesus that is way more than a lil cat-o-nine tails my god

this scene with Tara and Moose Girl is like...awkward. And sweet. Reminds me of my religious days lmao.

C'mon Penelope! Do the mature thing! OR, do the not mature thing! Pen's character development post-BAU strikes me as kind of a delayed adolescence. She's leaning into being more assertive and impulsive (and prioritizing her own pleasure). So it's perfectly understandable that she doesn't *want* to end things with Tyler. But girl, the investigation is on the line and that's a pretty big deal. What are you gonna do? (She does the right thing)

Yeah, Voit is LOSING IT. He obviously cares about his family but like... push comes to shove he's gonna kill them.

this girl Grace is METAL. it's nice to see the victims fighting back more effectively

Doug Noodle in a polo shirt? Now Kevlar??

(side note: Hogan's Alley reminiscing makes me think of Derek Morgan, of course. "out there, in the field, sorry doesn't bring people back!")

cringey feeling: WHAT ARE THEY DOING WITH PRENTISS AND BAILEY. are they becoming friends. okay that's a little cute. I just...I have trust issues, lol.

hohoHO "Come and get it, motherfucker." I felt that

actually I think it says a lot that Prentiss would go into a dangerous situation with Noodle on her six. She trusts him more than she did (or she'd rather he be her liability and no one else's?). And...where's JJ? Rossi and Luke went to other location, is JJ part of the backup? Oh JJ was sent to find the guy's ex. (that noodle better not friendly fire my love Emily Prentiss!!)

oh SHIT Emily you're going in ALONE??? baby nooo. I mean, you're super capable and a complete badass. but....be safe

Dougie Noodle's FBI coming of age is I'm sorry just a touch too melodramatic for me.

I naively thought this might be a Will free episode, completely forgot Josh Stewart's name in the credits up top LOL

How come everyone is getting haircuts all the time? Even Tyler Green looked freshly shorn or combed or whatever. I am so confused about the timeline of these episodes. Maybe men's hair styles just confound me?

An "adult supper" LOL

not Tara looking pensively at Willifer from afar as if they are #couple goals !

Unfortunately Tyler looks goofy with his hair combed.

Oh, Come On. "You made me want to live again" layin' it on thick there buddy. Unfortunately it seems to be Working. aaaagh

I can't tell if this is illicit yet sweet or if this is Jason Clark Battle coffee shop setup #2. I think it's supposed to be read as romantic? I was praying Derek Morgan would burst through the front door like the Kool-Aid Man to put a stop to this.

I think I don't like how this was intercut/edited - Rossi zeroing in on Sicarius with Voit digging up a kill kit. It's novel at least - I don't remember seeing this style in any other CM ep. But it feels weirdly extra?

Okay, overall, I liked the episode. It wasn't all that great frankly, but the crime was creepy as hell if underdeveloped. The worst sins are the criminal lack of screen time for Luke Alvez (he has been far and away the most underutilized of the whole cast), and the progression of the Tyler/Penelope situation. At least that will lead to more dramatics down the road. I'm not wild about how that storyline requires PG to have rather cavalierly tucked away her professionalism (such as it is), but to me it is not a wild departure from her prior characterization. We've seen her make big mistakes before when blinded by romance, mistakes which have also impacted her work (remember the RPG knight she was gettin' romanced by that hacked the BAU? granted...that was a million years ago in season 1). And sometimes people jangle our chemicals and we do crazy shit. It's kind of interesting, from a Penelope character perspective.

This episode had plenty of Prentiss, for which I am always glad, and it was kind of nice to see her dynamic with Bailey continue to shift. I don't really think that will tip into messed up heterosexual shenanigans territory but I admit to being paranoid about the possibility. Emily is way too familiar with the realities (headaches!) of intra-Bureau "liaising" not to mention I think she looks at Bailey as a young man in need of guidance/training. I was disappointed that Tara didn't have any conversations with Rebecca (not even a voicemail!), but I can wait. JJ and Emily felt more normal with each other, which was welcome. This episode was juggling too much, but that's the price of admission it seems with how they are trying to tell the unsub's story plus team lives etc. I'm glad they got renewed because I've basically given up hope on seeing Prentiss' personal life this season. *maybe* in the next season. And last - Derek Morgan was top of mind for me. It was nice to have his imaginary cameos, both in Emily's memories of Hogan's Alley and in his capacity as Penelope Garcia sense-talker.

WOW I DID NOT EVEN NOTICE THERE WAS A "POST"-CREDITS SCENE WTF. What is this, an MCU movie?

Um....... I'm just going to have to reserve judgment until I've seen the last 3 episodes. It will continue to be batshit I'm sure.

I did find it gross how he was laid out like a corpse on PG's kitchen counter covered in... cookbooks? Ok. 😂

[sn4pdr4g0n]

protective;soft dom wilbur smut?

afab and she her prns pls

“it’s like you’re dating them or something”

if you could base the plot off of that quote I would really appreciate that thank you ily /p

"It's like you're dating them or something"

Ily2 anon <3 /p

°•♡•°

Upon entering your shared apartment, you sigh quietly, looking at Wilburs tense form. "I don't get why you were so irritable for the whole night."

"You know why..." he pushes you into your bedroom, shutting the door behind him and slipping off his shoes. "Can you get on the bed for me, love?"

You slip your heels off and sit in front of the pillows, arms crossed over you chest and a slight pout on your lips. "It was just a fun night out with friends. I get that Lisa can drink a little too much sometimes but it's a nightclub, it's what you're supposed to do."

"Are you also supposed be all over other men as well? It's like you're dating him!" Wilburs hands wrap around your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he settles on the bed.

"I didn't mean to make you upset, Wil, but-" his lips pressed against yours softly, teeth biting gently at your bottom lip making you gasp slightly. Rough hands tugged up your dress and bunched it round your hips. You quickly get the message and start undoing his belt, pulling away from the kiss panting quietly not wanting Wilbur to know how he leaves you breathless.

"You know what to do, don't you, baby?" He teases, pressing your hands against his growing chub, "show me that you don't want anyone else, love, and I'll show you that you don't need anyone else." Hastily, you nod, spitting in your hand and slowly dragging it up and down his dick, teasing him. "My pretty princess would never tease me, would you." He grins, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.

"I wouldn't dare," you tease back, letting saliva drip from your mouth and onto his cock. Gaining pace you hear Wilbur groan above you, his hands grabbing at your wrist and pulling you off. "What was that for? I wasn't done."

"Sit back, baby, I told you that you didn't need anyone else now I'll prove it." Your panties were tugged down and tossed aside, quickly forgotten as Wilbur's fingertips traced soft circles over your clit.

"Wilbur, c'mon," you start to plead, not quite giving in yet.

"I'd you want something you have to ask for it." He chided, fingers just dance over your heat, not enough but everything at the same time.

"Please fuck me, Wil." He was quick to obey, his middle and ring finger slipping inside of you and his thumb resting on your clit, pressing against the swelling nub.

"Of course baby, since you're asking so nicely." His fingers pump in and out of you, letting your fluids drip down onto the bedsheets. His other hand kept you hips steady and keeping them from bucking up towards him.

Wilbur fingers pull from you, leaving you empty, but only for a moment as you feel something thicker lining up against your entrance.

"Can I?" He asks, tone sugary sweet.

"Please." You gasp loudly as he pushes in, the stretch aches in the best way possible and you head rolls back against the headboard.

"Eye's on me, love." His pace is steady but harsh, leaving you grasping at the bedsheets. "Remind me who you belong to."

"You, Wilbur," you whimper out, slick lewd noises filling the room in-between your loud moans.

"Only me?" The brunettes lips suck at your neck, littering bruises over your collar bones.

"You, only you, Wilbur, just you," you babble nonsensically, hands finding Wilburs hair, wrapping the curls tightly between your fingers and tugging.

"Good, you just mine, all mine and no one else's," He murmers against your skin, rhythm faltering as he gets closer to cumming. His thumb draws tight figure eights into your clit, driving you further towards the edge. "My good girl, all for me. Doing so good."

"I'm gonna cum, Wil," you groan out, rolling your hips back against his thrusts, whining louder as he pinches your nipples and gropes at your breasts.

"Cum for me, baby, cum on my cock," you let yourself fall over the cliff, riding out your orgasm as Wilbur pulls out and cums on your stomach and thighs. "No one can do this to you can they, love?"

"Only you, Wilbur."

°•♡•°

Hope this is what you wanted Anon!

[rinnelovebot]

JUMPS OUT OF THE TRAMPOLINE HI MARCHIEPIE !!!!!!!! can i request HiMERU + 63 on the kissing prompts ……… i am head over heels for this man. head in hands. thank you so much mwa !!!!!!!!

A/N: RATTLES THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE. HIMERU PLS GIVE ME ONE CHANCE

*ೃ༄ Himeru + 63: Trying to concentrate on a task, but your lover kisses your neck, making your head spin

Tick, tick, tick.

The clock hanging above your desk was the only audible thing in the room, aside from the quiet clicking of your computer keys. You had been working on this assignment given to you for hours. Not once had you gotten up to eat, rest, use the restroom, stretch, or get a drink.

You felt like a robot—mechanical fingers mindlessly clicking the keyboard, eyes made of hollow metal staring into the overly bright screen. Just how long had you been here? You shook the wandering thoughts out of your head, trying your hardest to focus on the task at hand.

After a few more minutes, you heard the door to your bedroom click open, head instinctively whipping around at the sudden noise. Your boyfriend, Himeru, stood at the door.

“Apologies. Himeru was knocking, but it seemed that you didn’t hear. Himeru almost thought you might’ve been asleep.” He sighed, closing the door behind him. The blue-haired man looked at you with such worry, walking closer to your desk.

“I’m sorry, ‘Meru…” You answered, looking down at your hands resting in your lap. “Guess I was too focused.”

Your boyfriend chuckled. “It’s alright, you needn’t apologize. Himeru understands.” He watched as you turned your chair back around, scooting closer to the desk and adjusting your laptop screen. “Though, you’re always reminding Himeru not to overwork himself. It seems you might need to take your own advice there, dear. You look exhausted.”

You could only chuckle at his worry. He was completely right to worry about you, of course—but you really needed to complete this assignment. And plus, it’s not like you were far off. You couldn’t lose your momentum now, not when you were so close to the finish line. “I’m okay, really.”

Himeru huffed, placing steady hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into your skin with his thumbs. You had to admit, it was nice having him there.

“My, you’re so stubborn.” Uttered Himeru, leaning downwards. You could feel his breath on the shell of your ear, effectively raising goosebumps on your arms and neck. “But Himeru still can’t help but admire your drive. It’s quite endearing.”

You felt lucky that you were facing away from him—lucky that he couldn’t see how your face scrunched up at his praise. “However,” He continued, whispering. “You mustn’t work yourself to the bone.”

He finished his words with a tender kiss to your neck. Himeru’s lips were warm and familiar, sighing as he placed another kiss onto a slightly different spot on your neck.

You tried desperately to continue working, but you found yourself making more typos and grammatical errors than usual—which was to be expected when you had a man behind you, kissing your neck and running his hands up and down your arms.

After a few more kisses, you groaned, swiveling your chair around to look at him. “Fine, you got me. I’ll take a break… But it has to be short.”

Himeru smiled, as if proud of himself. “Perfect.”

[beewithknee]

911, someone stole my dick

trans Peter Parker x reader

‘911, pls come asap’ that's all the text said. Your heart clenched and your stomach dropped. You see, you and your boyfriend, Peter Parker, had designed a series of number codes to text each other when explaining how you felt was just too difficult. You hadn’t had a message with one in a while but things change, you supposed. Racing through the halls, you ran to Peter’s apartment as fast as you could, not wanting him to wait a minute longer than necessary. You knocked on the oak door harshly before May let you in. “Oh, [Name]! Peter’s been gushing about you again.” She chuckled, you gave her a tense smile, rocking back and forth on your heels out of impatience.

Could this conversation be over already?

Catching your mannerisms, she smiled kindly and said “Sorry, I'll let you go now. I’m gonna give you two some alone time but no funny business, okay?” You agreed, laughing at the eccentric but lovely women. Walking up to Peter's door was scary, you knew the gist of what was going on but you didn't know just how bad it would be.“Hey baby, I'm coming in okay?” You asked quickly, not wanting to scare him. “Okay” It was timid, shy and small, everything you knew Peter not to be. Said man was in a tight ball under layers of blankets on his bed. Eyes red and irritated.

‘Oh, he was crying’ you thought sadly.

The 911 text meant that Peter's dysphoria was becoming crippling. You slowly walked over and sat on the side of his bed. Lifting a hand up, you raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question. He nodded and you softly threaded your hand through his hair. “Bad again?” Another nod. Sometimes when he got like this, even speaking was just too much. “Can I get under the blankets with you?” you stuck to yes/no questions, giving him the option of remaining silent. Peter once again nodded his confirmation. He grabbed your hand and moved you behind him so you were spooning him. “Can I put my arm around your waist?” You knew his small (but sexy) waist occasionally was a no-go, so you’d always check. He grabbed your arm and put it in place. That's when you felt it.

His binder.

It had to be at least 4:30pm and you knew he always put it on before school at about 7:30am. Doing some simple maths in your head, you determined that he'd been wearing it for about 9 and a half hours. Not good. “Hey Peter?” you broke the silence carefully. He hummed his attention. “By my math you’ve been wearing your binder for about 9 and a half hours, correct?” His silence was all the answers you needed. You placed a kiss to the back of his neck, reassuring him that you weren’t mad. “I know how shitty it feels to take it off, but you need to, okay? I brought that one big shirt of mine that you love, as well as my thickest hoodie. I know this is gonna suck. But can you take off the binder? And then, if you want, you can wear my clothes.” The whole explanation was said softly, you didn't want to force him to do anything but he really did need to remove it. The bug-boy slowly nodded his head and sat up. You leaned down and offered him the clothes, which he took with a small but grateful smile. “Can, uh, can you turn around? Please?” He asked shyly before wincing at his own voice. “Of course! Just tap me on the shoulder when I can turn back.” Normally when he was shy, but not dysphoric, you’d turn around jokingly to ogle his body. But you’d never betray his trust when he’d asked you seriously. Three taps came to your shoulder and you spun back around, jaw dropping at the sight.

“I- holy shit. How did I get such a handsome boyfriend?” You breathed out, Peter stood there awkwardly, face flushed and the t-shirt falling off one shoulder. Your eyes scanned his face and you could tell he was enjoying checking him out; it made him feel attractive. With his permission, your eyes darted around his body. You noticed the lack of bulge in his bones, meaning he’d taken his packer out. “Uh, can we lay back down?” His tired voice broke your thoughts. You simply laid down and opened your arms. Peter had elected to for-go the hoodie, so you rubbed his exposed forearms a little. He settled back into you, spooning always gets so incredible wirth you. Peter was safe and happy and taken care of when you did. “I know you think that you probably look girlish or that you’re not handsome or anything else that your brain is telling you-” You paused, bringing your arm around his waist once again. Seeing it in reach, Peter grabbed your hand and started fidgeting with the rings that adorned it. “- but, you are a man. Everyone sees you as a man. And I like men, so therefore I wouldn't be dating you if you weren't.” You finished, you knew your words could only help a little but in actual fact, it made Peter smile.

He loved you.

“Thank you [Name]. I love you.” It was a whisper pressed into your skin but you heard it as clear as day. “I love you too. I can tell you’re tired, sleep pretty boy. I got you.” More kisses littered his neck. Peter sighed, finally relaxing in the hold of the person he loved. His dysphoria wasn’t at all gone, but you always helped to ease it. He could feel your heartbeat on his back, your warmth seeping into him and your smell invaded his nose, he was safe. Just as he teetered on the edge of consciousness he heard you whisper “I love you Peter Parker.” And he was out.

[osakunt]

Hi!so i heard your request is open and may i request a hc where The haitanis(saperately)were in a arranged marriage and before meeting the bride they were like hating it and will make sure to run hell on their bride.BUTTT when they finally met they realise that its their crush who they are(madly)in love with.Make it Flufff

➟ ARRANGED MARRIAGE W/ HAITANIS [timeskip]

➟ Thank you for requesting, babes ! Pls enjoy <3

Ran

When he gets told that an arranged marriage is to happen. He was calm. But not calm enough

When asked to at least follow up and text the person he is to marry him, Ran automatically turns away acting like he didn’t hear shit.

The man cringed at the idea of even getting married with someone he didn’t know. So this is what he did

1. Made sure to text the person “just know I already dislike you”

2. Went out with random people and post on his social media because he knew you’d find out some way or another.

3. Trashed his place so the people who supervised him gave you a bad report about him. Sadly he got a little OCD and decided to clean up -

Plan A :backfired 🏃🏻‍♀️

Once it was time to finally meet each other, Ran thought it was a good idea to not get dressed formally. He wore a shirt that he specifically cut holes into and some shit colored pants and hair untamed.

“I hope (L/n) - san still goes along with this. They’ve been thinking of backing out. I understand that the peace between both gangs are on the line. And seeing how Ran has been acting, I doubt Bonten will even have a good clan to be their back bone when needed”

Hearing Kakucho talk to Kokonoi, Ran instantly stops and speed walks to the area the two were standing. “L/n ?? As in (L/n) (Y/n)… Kucho tell me it isn’t the the youngest of the (L/n) clan ….”

“It is….do you know them” Kakucho was lost as fuck but seeing the older man freak out he called in Rindou to help his brother out.

Once things were explained and cleared up, Kakucho sighs and sends the oldest Haitani to go fix up.

“Bet you were surprised it was me, Hmm ?” Ran sees your mouth moving but isn’t paying attention due to him taking in your appearance. The way you held yourself and greeted him even after the shit he had done to get you to rethink things.

“Y/n, I think this’ll work” Ran throws you a lazy smile. To think that he would throw a chance away with the person he was in the dumps for was completely stupid to him. Why would he want to throw away something that can bloom into something real. Something loving and something one and only.

“We can even get married now” he swings an arm around you, coming all up on you like Toji’s worm.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

RINDOU

Let’s say his family wanted his bum ass to get married already so his parents said ‘fuck it, let’s arrange a marriage for him’

“The hell makes you think I’m going to go through with this ?” He yells looking at his superiors not carrying if they were his parents “ You’re 23 going onto 24. It’s time” his mother mocks him leaving the room to deal with other things. She didn’t care if he was throwing a fit.

Rindou being more snarky than Ran, he goes around making comments on how he’s fucked this big number of women and for all he knows could have children.

This is false. Yea he’s had his little sexcapades but wraps his willy cause like…fuck them kids

Anywhore ~ he found a way to get in contact with you even if the rules said that you guys couldn’t talk just yet until a certain day.

“Listen. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If you were the one to suggest this false of a fake- fuck you. HONESTLY FUCK. YOU. who the hell do you think you are getting my family to agree to this shit” he hangs up without letting you even talk and you’re just there like ‘oh so this is how he wanna be ? Bet say less’

Seeing that Rindou isn’t going to at least try to make a good out of it, you decide to speed the meeting closer. As much as you didn’t want this, you wanted to at least meet with the big mouth who talked down to you.

The days comes and there he is. The click clack of your heels is heard on the shiny floor. Starting from you legs and traveling up to meet your stoic gaze and raised eyebrow - Rindou’s eyes widen at who was in front of him.

“Just came to say that you’re free to go. I only ever accepted cause I heard good things from your parents and cause I actually kinda liked you. Oh well it is what it is” you step to turn around but Rindou gets up from his seat in the café

“…..don’t go….I mean not yet- fuck” he can’t believe the fuck up he is going through right now.

Pushing back his hair from his face, he offers you to sit and you comply with the most professionalism you could give. “In my defense I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t mind having you as my wife ,ya know. To be fair I actually tolerate you.”

“I’ll accept this marriage simply because it’s you” his words caught you off guard because this bitch just cussed your ass out ?! SIR WTF !!

When Rindou got home after convincing you to continue the arrangements - he strides into his parents home to give them a hug. “Why didn’t y’all tell me it was Y/n. I thank y’all for understanding my wants” he kisses his moms cheek and hugs his father like never before

“Should I send her an apology with roses, or something…??”

[mellowswriting]

Can I get a Javier Peña x female reader??

Reader gets really drunk at some type of party and Javier has to come get her? She’s a happy drunk.

(Fluffff pls. Also age gap if that’s ok)

stubborn

pairing || Javier Peña x fem!Reader

summary || Javier thinks you’re an adorable drunk. 

word count || 975

content || alcohol consumption, fluff, she/her pronouns used for reader

a/n || I loved this idea so much?? I think this is the quickest I’ve ever written something (like an hour total from brainstorming to posting) it’s just so cute. also I made this set in current times because disregarding canon makes me feel like god

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

It’s nearly one in the morning when Javier gets the call. It isn’t like he was sleeping to begin with - despite your assurances that he shouldn’t wait for you, he found himself restless in the otherwise empty bed. The instinct to be on guard had only let up a little when he moved back to the States, so he resigned himself to his fate of not getting rest until you were back from your girls’ night and in his arms again.

“Hey, uh, is this Javier?” A voice he doesn’t recognize crackles through the speaker and a spark of apprehension burns through him. Why the hell aren’t you the one calling him? Are you okay? Luckily, the blaze of worry is immediately doused by the sound of your voice calling his name and your friend’s breathless laugh that follows. “No, she’s fine. She’s just drunk and uh… I think she misses you. She won’t leave unless she’s with you, apparently.”

That’s how Javier found himself driving to the address your friend texted him, barely pausing to throw on a shirt on his way out. He couldn’t really find it in him to be annoyed, not when you sounded so sweet over the phone after wrestling it from your friend’s hands. You cooed that you missed him, your words heavy with liquor and love, and Javier found himself rolling his eyes fondly as he gathered his keys and wallet to go rescue his girl.

The bar was still chaotic when he showed up and Javier shouldered his way through the crowd, his sharp eye spotting the back of the pretty black dress you wore out tonight. He braces himself for impact the moment you lock eyes with him, expecting you to tackle-hug him like you’ve done so many times before, but this time your face just… softens. You look so happy to see him that it takes his breath away more than any bone crushing hug ever could.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Javier murmurs in your ear as you bury your face in his chest, your arms wrapped around his middle to draw him into your warm embrace. “I heard you wanted to come home.”

“I just want you, Javi.” Your voice rings with a sincerity that makes his heart ache in his chest, so full of love he can barely fucking handle himself.

“You’ve got me,” He promises, smiling when you blink slowly up at him, your every thought and movement slowed by the alcohol that flows through you. It’s adorable, this beyond candid version of yourself bursting at the seams with how much affection you want to give him.

“Hey!” One of your friends calls out, the same voice from the phone. She looks almost embarrassed that he had to intervene. “I’m sorry, I know I said I would drive her home, she’s just so…”

“Stubborn.” Javier finishes for her, smirking at the scandalized gasp you give him. “It’s okay, I’ll get her home safe. Does anyone else need a ride?”

Once he’s certain no one else needs a safe way home, Javier tells you it’s time to head home and get some rest, kissing away the little frown that forms on your lips. Your hangover will be bad enough and he wants you on the fast track to recovery so he can tease you for how adorable you’re being. You detach yourself from his side just long enough to say goodbye to your friends, but soon you’re holding his arm tightly as he guides you to the door. It never fails to amaze him that you can walk around in heels but the fact that you’re drunk and barely stumbling in them is deserving of some kind of medal.

Javier holds your hand the entire drive home since he doesn’t want to face that adorable pout he gets if he lets go. At his prompting, you tell him all about how much fun you’ve had, all about the drunken escapades you got up to with your friends. You only pause when he finally gets you inside and perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at him as he undoes the straps of your heels.

The feeling of your fingers carding through his hair draws his attention away from the infuriatingly tiny straps and you sigh all happily. “Wish you were there, though.”

“You think your friends would be okay with some old guy hanging around and getting drunk with them?” He asks, eyebrow quirked.

“You aren’t old.” You scoff. “You’re older. Distinguished. There’s a difference, ya know.”

Javier can’t help but laugh at the look you level him with. It would seem serious if it weren’t for the glint in your eyes that clearly reads, ‘I’m a happy drunk and I love you so much’.

“Alright, party girl, it’s time for bed.” Javier grunts as he tosses your shoes towards the closet and starts unzipping the back of your dress. He watches you wiggle out of it, biting back a laugh at your annoyed sighs, and snags one of his shirts for you to slip on in its place.

“Aw, my favorite. You remembered?” You ask, looking up at him with shining eyes.

“Honey, you sleep in my clothes every single night.” He reminds you.

You just shrug. “Still.”

The moment he lays down, you take up your usual spot: your head on his shoulder with your arm draped over his stomach and your leg hitched up over his lap. You inhale deeply, taking in the smell of cologne and something so distinctly Javier, and who can blame you for peppering a few love soaked kisses to his shoulder and neck? The combination of alcohol and sleepiness soon drags you under into a deep sleep, and Javier finds himself following soon after, finally able to sleep with you right where you belong.

{Taglist} 

@silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @freeshavocadoooo @i-ship-it-ironically @wyn-n-tonic @notabotiswear @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @andruxx @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @kaqua @h-hxgirl @amneris21 @omlwhatamidoinghere @mswarriorbabe80 @mrsbentallmadge @badassbaker @meshlababy @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @paintballkid711 @la-lunaluna @princessxkenobi @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @chattychell @ew-erin @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @lemonlime09 @artsymaddie @acourtofsnakes @petersunderoos96 @stuckybarton @derretendotoda @rosie-posie08 @hypnoash @colorlesswhispersunknown @mando-amando @kirsteng42 @goblinsimp @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl @tobealostwanderer @lightsinthedistancee @elinedjarin @meanperegrine @mando-forgive-me @itssmashedavo @finerthingsboutique @c-a-v-a-l-r-y  

[littlefreya]

Late Hours

Summary: After a small lustful rendezvous in the elevator where August had his fingers where they shouldn't be he is now ignoring you and you are not having any of it.

Prompted by:

"Can u pls write like making daddy august jealous!!🔥"

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd pov)

Word count: 2K

Warnings: 18+, smut. Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, mention of fingering, a “thrill of the chase”, teasing, indecent work relationship, grinding, exhibitionism, possessive behaviour, jealousy.

A/N: Hello everybody, this can be read as stand-alone but also a slight sequel to Poison Honey Elevator Ride Many thanks to @agniavateira my angel who always beta's my work so I don't have to die on my mistakes like August.

Please, please, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed your work. It will be much appreciated. 🖤

Late Hours

The memory of his touch burrowed deep, seeping into your bones like water through stone, like thorny twigs that grew over the pumping muscle in your chest.

Agent Walker had his fingers inside you.

Agent Walker had his fingers deep inside you while standing in a crowded elevator and you loved every. single. second. of it.

Like a whore you rode his hand, voicelessly begging him to fuck you right there in front of everyone—but just as your climax was about to breach the doors chimed, and he left you dissatisfied, desperate, and ashamed.

Now there was an imprint on your skin—a stain you couldn't wash away—to a point where you wondered if he was some sort of devil or demon set to possess your soul, as a sudden change stirred the timid woman you used to be; your lipstick grew darker, your neck became tinged by a seductive perfume, and below your suit, you donned a set of lacey undergarments.

‘Just in case…’

The men in the office certainly noticed as your heels tapped on the marble floors. They said nothing, but there was no need for them to speak; you felt their eyes eating you up - tits, ass, and of course, the length of your bare legs.

Though your efforts were for nothing, unlike his colleagues, Agent Walker hardly graced you with a blink. Stoic and dismissive, he never lifted his face from his phone when you passed by him in the halls.

Whatever happened to you in that elevator was nothing but sport for him, yet it didn't deter your fury from blooming. You wanted to slap his stupid bewhiskered face, to shame him in front of his colleagues.

But more than anything else, you want to show him that you didn't give a fuck about him either.

That Friday, you remained late, sitting at your desk with a stony expression while the sun disappeared behind the tall skyscrapers surrounding the building. August enjoyed working after hours, along with a few other agents from his department who shared the same sitting area.

The near-empty space was quiet at this hour, save for the monotonous sound of the vacuum cleaner operated by the janitor and the soft hum of the air conditioner. Scanning the room from the corner of your eye, you waited until it was down to just August and one other agent when you decided to make your move.

The reflection of the monitor cascaded over August's gaze, painting it icy-blue while he kept a fierce face. He continued ignoring you, even as the booming echo of your heels sounded through the office as you made your way toward the other agent's desk.

"Working hard, Agent Wylde?" your voice slightly dropped, trying to sound alluring to provoke August who sat a couple of desks away. There was no apparent change in his posture, but you knew he noticed you for Agent Walker was hardly the type to miss out on a single detail - he did find you at that party in December, after all.

Wylde lifted his face from his laptop, his dark orbs immediately studying your body before meeting your cattish gaze.

"Or hardly working," he jested, which forced you to fake-giggle and twirl your hair around your finger. Turning your back to August, you moved to sit upon Wylde's desk with the mien of a large feline, your legs loosely hanging from the edge of the surface, waving in the air while you pretended to be interested in the stupid miniatures he collected.

"These are so cool." You fished one of the figures and observed it in the pale fluorescent light.

Wylde scratched his head and chuckled. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely! What are they? Are these... trolls?"

"They are orcs," he replied and picked the miniature from between your fingers, examining it with somewhat pride before placing it back where it belonged. "These are Warhammer miniatures. I painted them myself."

You bit your painted lip and leaned closer, allowing your shoulder to bump against his. "I think it's pretty cool, Agent Wylde. I didn't know you are so... creative..."

Casually, your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed his muscle which made his cheeks flush. It would have been a lie to say you didn't enjoy having Agent Wylde wrapped around your finger. Never in your life were you considered as anything but the quiet, mousey girl, the one who was swallowed by the walls during office parties and was often overlooked and discarded.

Maybe that's why Agent Walker decided to torment you. What better challenge than the shy simple woman, another notch in his belt before he moved on to whoever was his next target. Still, with your ass tucked in a tight pencil skirt and while conveniently perched onto Wylde's desk, his seething glower burnt you with its erupting blue flames, cautiously licking across your figure.

Even without seeing him, you swore you could hear his thoughts.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

The woman before Agent Walker wouldn’t.

But that woman was gone.

Pursing your lips, you reached for Wylde's face, grazing a polished nail over his cheek to feel the light stubble that peppered his coarse skin. It was when you heard a muffled cough and you couldn't help but smile spitefully, knowing that August disliked everything about your little façade.

"Growing a beard?"

Wylde had fallen utterly mute to your touch and devilish charms, his adam's apple bobbing up and down and his mouth slightly agape. For a moment you observed him as if he was the most intriguing man in the world, making him think he was the one you wanted when in fact, your thoughts ran chaotic with the notion that August is seeing you toy with another man.

"I like it," you mentioned, and then with a sudden withdrawal, gracefully jumped off the desk and walked away from their department.

Believing to have achieved your initial goal, you had no wish to indulge any of them further. All you wanted was for August to see that you were no longer the shy little girl who clenched her thighs whenever he was nearby.

That you too, could tease and seduce and bring a man to a sweaty mess.

Blissfully you headed toward your desk, grabbed your purse, and made your way to the secluded coffee station for a glass of water before heading home. Fetching yourself a plastic cup, you felt sated; perhaps you should have thanked Agent Walker for this new daring woman you became. If not for his blunt arrogance, you wouldn't have discovered the newfound joy of being so obnoxiously seductive.

You sipped from the cup and then turned to throw it into the recycle bin when a sudden tight squeeze held your throat. There was a brief moment of a black delirium; you asked yourself how a touch can be both icy and blistering hot at the same time when your sight became blurry and your heart bounced to your clenching throat. You wished to shriek but the only sound that came out from your mouth was the faint wheeze of your struggling windpipe.

"Hmm..."

That same familiar baritone sent tremors down your shaky legs. Blinking helplessly, you peered back to the frigid stare and sharp lips that drew into a taunting pout.

Clicking his tongue, Agent Walker observed you head-to-toe while he held your jaw locked between long sturdy fingers. "That's not you," he scolded. With a swipe of his thumb, he smeared the dark shade of mahogany wine across your cheek.

Your now bruised lips quivered, so did the rest of your body as August kept you ensnared in a spot where either Agent Wylde or the janitor could walk in on the two of you and catch you doing whatever it was that August planned.

Slow and whimsical, his gaze fell on the rest of your body, devouring the sight of your tight suit. His nostrils flared as the flowery scent of your new perfume hit his nose.

"Jasmine and... wild roses?” he asked with a deep inhale, quite clearly not anticipating an answer. “I don't like this 'office slut' act," he warned. Taking a couple of strides, he backed you until your ass hit the counter and his knee pressed between your thighs.

"Don't like it at all."

You felt the thin skin on your neck blister upon his touch; your chest turned heavier and desperate with every breath you struggled to take. He had you, again. You, not the ferocious “Lilith” you aspired to be.

That woman was clawing at your ankles, begging to fight him off, to show him that he was the one who should be treated like a toy.

"This is not for you!" you whispered angrily, attempting to force your face away from his grip. But August was fast to capture you once again, his thighs now pushing your legs asunder while his fingers dug into the hollows of your cheeks.

And then suddenly, your heels dangled above the ground. It took no more than a quick scuffle for him to lift you up and sit you on the counter.

Something hard and heavy pressed between your legs, making your lips fall open as he leaned so close you could taste his breath - coffee and smoked bourbon.

"Agent Walker..." you whispered again, this time in concern. You glanced at Wylde’s desk, seeing him still there, playing with his phone.

Neither August nor the swelling bulge in his groin cared for your pleas. Hooking one hand below your knee, he ground into you with a gravelly growl, the only thing separating between your wet, throbbing organs were thin pieces of fabric. But Oh god! You could feel him, his sheer size, thick and rock-hard, pulsating in hunger to stuff your needy little hole.

Once again, you discovered that when it came to August, your moral compass burned to ash.

“Agent Walker...” Your pleas turned into pathetic mewls. His lips ghosted over the corner of your open mouth that begged to be penetrated and pillaged by his warm tongue. Absentmindedly, you pushed your clad cunt against the hardness in his trousers and undulated your hips in a sensual sway.

“Please…”

For a second, he licked across your trembling lips and ascended to kiss your forehead. “Sweet girl,” he murmured, letting his mouth linger, “are you a whore?”

Spreading your legs further, you asked yourself which answer would please him rather than which one was right.

“No, I am not.”

“That’s correct, sweetness,” he kissed your forehead again, in tenderness now, letting his fingers loosen around your neck. “You are my whore, and I will pay a visit when I see fit.”

The words hardly even sunk your heaving chest when August drew back and straightened both his tie and suit. “Ah, Agent Wylde, how is the missus?” August greeted Wylde, who stood at the edge of the coffee station with his eyes wide.

He never waited for an answer. Marching away, August hummed a happy tune, leaving both you and Wylde to stare embarrassed at one another. After a few seconds, you found the strength to climb off the counter and escape this living nightmare.

The path to the elevator never seemed this far, this excruciatingly long. Rattled, you marched on heavy feet, the high heels of your shoes almost giving under the weight. Safety did not come, not even as the silver doors closed around you and divided you from the looming predator who lurked at the darkest corners. If anything it made you feel a terrible sense of unease, as if you have passed into another realm, one that was governed by this man who chose you as his plaything.

From the moment he laid eyes on you, you became forever his girl, like a curse that can never be broken or undone. When August would appear, you were to obey and give yourself to whatever whim he had in mind.

While the elevator rode lower into the bawls of the building, you wondered if you ever wanted to be anything but that.

Credits: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I don't own August Walker or Mission impossible Fallout

[heliotropehotch]

Silver - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @moonstuffsteve :If you’re taking requests, I’d love Hotch smut with a wedding ring kink where the cold metal gets you more worked up (maybe ft choking bc of the ring??) pls and thanks so much!!!!!!!!

a/n: AHHHH its my first smut for Aaron! (and first smut i've actually finished in years!) Al, i love you. Thank you for this. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve my writing please let me know! I haven't written smut in a long time so I know this might be rocky. <3

CW: smut, under 18 DNI, 18+, jealously, unwanted ass grabbing, wanted ass grabbing, choking, wedding ring kink?????, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), rough sex, marriage kink??, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, fingering

Masterlist

author: abby<3

word count: 1919

have fun!

She hated cops. Entitled, jealous, and, for the most part, disgusting men, who thought well enough should be left alone. Meaning that, while help had been offered and given, it wasn’t wanted. What was wanted, however, seemed to deviate way too far off the course of the case, of the literal murders that were happening.

“Officer Walker,” Y/N’s teeth gritted out as sweetly as she could, as the man placed an unwelcome palm on the small of her back. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, sugar,” he chuckled deeply. “I was hoping you wanted to get out of here.”

“Out of here?” She pretended not to notice Agent Hotchner watching the interaction, slowing walking up behind him. “What do you mean, Officer?”

“I mean,” his hand swooped down, resting gently on her ass. Y/N’s eyes shot wide, mouth opening slightly with appall. “We should get out of here so we can have a little fun.”

“Excuse me-”

“Officer Walker,” Aaron Hotchner’s voice cut through the air of the precinct. “I suggest you take your hand off of my agent, and my wife.”

Walker’s hand shot off her body, smacking into his own side. “Your wife? Sir, I didn’t kn-”

“We have a case, Officer. There are people out there getting murdered. Get back to work. Agent, you’re needed in the conference room, please.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N said with a straight face, but she knew her husband could read the smugness on her face.

“In the future, Officer Walker,” she called out before following Aaron. “At least check a woman’s hand before you make unwanted passes at them.”

Y/N sauntered almost cheerfully behind her husband stalking into the closed conference room. She could hear the gears turning forcefully in his head, and could clearly see his hand clenching and relaxing at his side. Entering the conference room, tension seeping into the air, confining itself in the room as Aaron forcefully shut the door behind them.

“Aaron-”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, fingers smoothing out his eyebrows. “I was fine until his moved his fucking hand-”

She reached out to grab his arms, trailing down to intertwine their fingers together. “Honey,” she smiled sweetly. “I know, okay. I appreciate it, okay. But I had it handled too.”

“I should have him fired-”

“But you won’t,” she laughed softly. “If you fired every man who made a pass at me, we wouldn’t ever work with cops again.”

He grumbled indignantly, scrunching his eyes together in irritation. Y/N slipped her hands up his chest, sliding into their natural place at his jaw. Her lips pressed to his, seeping tension seeping out of him with every passing second. “Aaron,” she hummed against his lips, before pulling away. She smiled as his chased after. “I married you, remember? You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else. Like ever?”

He chuckled, slipping his hands into the pockets of her pants. “I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

“I’m only yours.” She smiled at him, taking a step back. “Now can we get back to work? I wanna go home with you as soon as possible.”

--

The case was nowhere near close to being solved, but tensions between all members of the BAU were running high. Derek, the ever hot head he was, had almost gotten into a physical fight with the Captain of the precinct, while Spencer had remained silent after a particularly loud conversation with one of the fellow officers.

“These cops just won’t let us do our jobs, Hotch,” Emily had groaned in the hotel elevator with Y/N and Aaron. “I’m two derogatory comments away from breaking Walker’s nose.”

Y/N snorted, eying her husband’s now tense back in front of her. “He’s a real piece of work huh?”

“I’ll be too glad when we get out of here. Why can’t we work with female cops for a change?”

It was Hotch’s turn to snort. “You would end up being the one that they complained about. You’re just as bad as Morgan.”

Emily gave an artificial gasp. “Am not.”

The elevator doors opened, and Y/N followed her husband out and down the hall to the left. “Night Em!”

Out of sight of the rest of their team, she jogged forward to grab his hand, giving a small kiss to his knuckles. A comfortable silence had settled between the heavy setted footsteps of the married couple. Y/N rocked on her heels as her husband fumbled with the key card to their shared room. She rolled her neck, letting the tension fizzle out in separated pops of her bones. She barely registered the click of the door, or the wrap of fingers around her wrist. She did however, notice the cool, fake wood of the hotel door being pressed against her back. “Aaron?”

“You’re mine,” he murmured, pressing his lips in the angle of her neck. She chuckled, winding her fingers in his hair.

“I thought we already clarified that, baby.”

He hummed a chuckle, his tongue lapping up whatever remnants of perfume traced his neck. “And I intend to make that painfully obvious to everyone in that precinct.”

His lips wrapped around the muscles at the junction of her neck, drawing out a moan out of her with passing second that the air left his mouth. Y/N hummed a laugh, lifting her hips to grind against his. “Seriously, a hickey?”

His hand snaked up her waist to rest under her chin, squeezing slightly. She could feel the metal of his wedding band warm to the temperature of her skin. “I’ve got a point to prove, sweetheart.”

His fingers left her throat and reached down to pull the backs of her thighs to wrap around his waist, grunting slightly at the movement. She worked on unbuttoning her shirt, the best she could. “Aar-” their bodies fell to the bed, his legs slotted between hers. Y/N squeezed his left hand that had found its way into hers. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, remember?”

“Oh I remember, darling,” his mouth moved to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting it free. “I think you’re the one who needs a reminder.”

Aaron’s hands pushed up her skirt, adjusting it to pool at her hips. His calloused hands traced the edge of her underwear, sliding softly under the band. His mouth, trailing back up to her neck smirked as Y/N’s hips squirmed under his delicate touch. “Be patient, love.”

His attached his mouth to hers as his fingers slowly, finally began circling her clit. The metal of his ring brushing deliciously against the skin above. His teeth tugged her bottom lips, a small whine escaping her. He watched her blissed out expression morph into one of need, eyes scrunched with tension. His fingers dipped lower, circling her entrance before dipping two fingers in slowly.

“Aaron,” she gasped out, clenching around the fingers inside of her. “Aaron, please.”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he smiled into her neck, pressing his lips to her skin. “I’m gonna take good care of my wife, don’t you worry.”

His thumb, that had been rolling lazy circles against her clit, becomes more firm, with more intention. Y/N could feel the cold of her husband’s silver band pressing into her pussy as he pressed a third finger into her. The stretch of his hand, the way he stroked her walls with his fingers, and the words dripping from his lips were enough to put her body on edge.

“Oh you’re so tight, baby,” he chuckled darkly, breath blowing sweetly against her inner thighs. “Fuck, you’re wet. Is this all for me?”

Her fingers wrapped lazily between his black locks, tugging the strands. “Only you.”

“Of course, honey,” he cooed. “Look at you dripping all over my ring, I bet you’re gonna come soon, yeah?”

“Please,” Y/N whined loudly. “Please, Aaron, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Come for me, baby, get nice and ready for my cock.” She let out a yelp, her back arching from the mattress as her husband continued to lazily stroke her cunt.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed, bringing his fingers up to his mouth for a taste, before pausing and redirecting his fingers to her mouth. Her eyes stayed on him and she hummed around his fingers, tongue lapping at her own juices around his wedding ring.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, tugging off his own shirt, and ridding his pants and underwear. Y/N’s panties now rested at her knees, twisting over on itself, until she lazily ridded the rest of her garments.

Aaron now positioned her on her knees, head resting on her forearms as her ass ground into his pelvis. “Please, baby, wanna feel you,” her muffled voice called out.

He sucked his teeth with mock annoyance, lightly smacking one of her cheeks with his left hand. “And what did I say about being patient?” he chided, before lining his dick up and thrusting in.

Her toes curled at the sudden, but welcome intrusion. A groan left her throat as he began pounding into her pussy at a rough pace. Thrust for thrust, the room echoes with grunts and moans from both Y/N and her husband. She could almost feel his smug grin with every whine that fell through her lips.

“Fuck, Y/N look at you taking my cock so well. I bet you just love how I fill you up.” Her only responses were loud moans that flowed through his own voice as she clenched around him.

The metal of his wedding ring now almost burned against her sweating skin as he wrapped his hand around her throat once more, pulling her body to be flush against him as he continued to thrust into her at a bruising pace.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” She stayed wordless, only echoing in whines and moans. He squeezed her neck a little tighter, the imprint of the ring creating a delicious friction. “Answer me.”

“You!” her voice bursted out. “You, Aaron, only you.”

“That’s right, sweetheart, your husband. I married you, I put that ring on your finger-” he groaned, attaching his lips to the juncture of her neck before speaking again. “Fuck, are you gonna come for me soon?”

“Yes!” she cried, “Please, please.”

“Go ahead, and come for me like a good girl,” he panted, using his other hand to rub against her clit, squeezing his fingers again on her throat before speaking right into her ear. “Come on your husband’s cock.”

She yelled with her release, back arching to meet Aaron’s chest. He let out a few more strong thrusts before he found his own release and coated her walls with a groan. His forehead landed on her shoulder, her fingers lazily combing through his hair.

Eventually, he pulled himself out to clean themselves up and crawl into bed. She had rested on his side, but yelped when he pulled her to lay on his chest. She smiled softly, fingers tracing imaginary shapes along his pecs, then started chuckling softly.

He cracked a smile reserved only for her. “What are you up to?”

Her giggles quieted and she stopped her movements. “Oh, I was just thinking. I should make you jealous more often.”

He groaned, tugging her close to him, covering her ringed hand with his own. “Don’t you dare.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she chuckled sweetly. “You’re mine.”

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.