#all i fucking want to do is to code like why is nothing working now when I’d finally have actual motivation

[why-the-heck-not]

me waking up from my stress induced dreams, frothing with hate, ready to fuck up fix my laptops or die trying

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[abbyshands]

THE LAST OF US, and the israeli themes surrounding it

i'm very glad that people were able to see one of the previous things i published, where i complied a series of links that you can use to learn more of what's going on in gaza, how you can help, places you need to boycott, etc. however, at the end of the post, there is a large part of it that is DIRECTLY meant for people who play or watch the last of us, or play the last of us 2.

the last of us 2 in specific is not at all elusive in displaying the chilling themes we are seeing before us today. what boggles my mind, is that a select few individuals are choosing to keep publishing fics, reblogging them, uploading content that has NOTHING to do with what's going on, etc. also, you can't reblog one thing about palestine and claim that you care, then flood your account or people's home pages in fanfiction, especially during a media blackout. it just doesn't work like that.

i took the time to make a post discussing all of the israeli/palestinian themes that the games as a whole, but mainly the second one, display. if you are my mutual, a friend, a fan of my work, or a fan of the game or show, then i 100% demand you read this. if you can read fics for hours, you can spend time to read a post discussing the universe those very fics came from.

a lot of us are now aware of the last of us's nature in regards to the ongoing genocide, but not many people know the specifics of it. after seeing this post last night (the person who made this, you are an angel), i decided to take the time to dive into the specifics of the last of us 2's israeli nature, on a logical level, but also a moral level, using a list of sources to help me along, which will be linked at the end of this post. i will link the sources along the way so you know which sources i got my information from.

regardless of if this changes anyone's mind about ignoring the media blackout, or not giving a fuck about what's going on period, know this: regardless of how you feel, regardless of what you believe, from the river to the see, palestine will be free. at this fucking point, the people who are on the right side will keep speaking out and spreading awareness, regardless if you are here to do it with us. that's it. now, let's get into this.

UPCOMING DISCUSSIONS: neil druckmann, the last of us 1, the last of us 2, the last of us show and zionism in the show's cast, boycotting the game and show, and conclusion

NEIL DRUCKMANN

45-year-old neil druckmann, who was the co-director and co-writer for the last of us 2, was born in tel aviv, israel in 1978. according to the above source, druckmann was raised in a settlement in the west bank, where he was surrounded by violence on a daily basis. comics, movies, and most of all, video games, became an escape for him as a child, before he and his family moved to miami, floridawhen he was 10 years old.

to water down the full story that you can, again, read here, druckmann went to college to major in criminology. however, when he was in college, druckmann took a compsci course, that later lead to his major becoming coding as opposed to criminology. soon after, he knew he wanted a career that related to one thing: video games.

in the summer of 2013, the last of us part 1 was released, and it was renowned as one of best video games to have ever been made. in 2020, druckmann and nd released the last of us part 2, followed by the 2022 release of HBO's show based on the first video game. druckmann played a huge part on set, being not only the co-creator and co-writer of the show, but also having directed an episode himself. druckmann will remain involved in the second season of the show.

bringing up neil druckmann’s background is a crucial aspect of what’s upcoming in this post, hence why i wanted to discuss it at all. druckmann growing up in israel is one of the sole reasons the last of us was ever made at all, and not only that: it is the reason why the second game is the way it is, because neil druckmann planted his israeli ideologies right into it.

so, let’s speak on it.

THE LAST OF US 1

on the official the last of us podcast, neil druckmann himself discussed the last of us' link to the israeli-palestinian conflict, and now, genocide. the general consensus was that people will go ridiculously far for the people that they love. this idea of druckmann's was revealed when he discussed the first time the main character of the first game, joel miller, kills somebody to keep his daughter, sarah, safe from harm. this is one of the first scenes in the game prior to the time jump, where the pair's neighbor becomes infected, and attacks them. joel uses a gun to kill him so that the neighbor doesn't harm sarah.

the following is a quote i would like to copy from this link word for word: "Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics" and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011."

the plot of the first game, as neil druckmann explained, is based around a moral dilemma. he discusses how if joel had to kill a man to save a random kid, would he have done it? druckmann himself says, "but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do."

while the first game, in my opinion, isn't as heavily centered around israeli themes as the second game is, regardless, it is heavily crucial to note that the basis of the first game derived from a real-life incident involving israel and palestine, where hundreds of palestinian people (edit: i believe it is more than 1,000) were released from imprisonment, all in exchange for one israeli soldier. in the second game, the israeli-palestinian themes, if you look closely enough, scream out at you.

let's talk about it.

THE LAST OF US 2

"There is a common saying that if you seek revenge, you should dig two graves. Playing The Last of Us Part II is like being made to dig those graves with your teeth (Zacny)."

nd's 2022 the last of us part II is described down to the last letter in the above quote, albeit the game's utterly obvious israeli nature. in this post, the creator, rob zacny, goes on to discuss the game's theme of a "cycle of violence," and how the game reminds you in each grotesque encounter of the cruel ideology behind that. due to what occurs in the last of us 1, joel, basically, reaps what he sows when he is murdered for killing a surgeon who, along with the group said surgeon was a member of, the fireflies, was planning to perform surgery on ellie, who joel had since grown close to, in search of a cure for the infection that has plagued their world for decades. four years later, the second playable character in the game, who is introduced in the first half hour or so, abby anderson, kills joel to avenge the surgeon who was murdered, who happened to be her father. from then on, the game follows what, again, can only be described as a "cycle of violence." joel kills abby's dad, abby kills joel, ellie kills all of abby's friends, aims to kill abby in the final battle of the game, but spares abby when ellie's conscious morally attacks her for her decisions.

throughout the 24 odd hour gameplay, the player is allowed to play as ellie and abby, abby's parts of the game being arguably longer than ellie's. the idea this, i believe, is meant to introduce, is one of perspective: the player is meant to be loyal to joel miller once the first game has been finished, so when he is killed, they are inclined to make abby pay for it. however, abby's perspective, both in the past and as the present course of the game goes on, is meant to make the player understand why she did what she did. thus, the moral: there are no good guys in this game. every person is as equally bad as the following, and no one is innocent. however, when we consider the israeli-palestinian nature of this ideology and how it is presented in the last of us part 2, it simply doesn't work like this.

“I suspect that some players, if they consciously clock the parallels at all, will think The Last of Us Part II is taking a balanced and fair perspective on that conflict, humanizing and exposing flaws in both sides of its in-game analogues. But as someone who grew up in Israel, I recognized a familiar, firmly Israeli way of seeing and explaining the conflict which tries to appear evenhanded and even enlightened, but in practice marginalizes Palestinian experience in a manner that perpetuates a horrific status quo (Maiberg).”

when discussing the last of us part 2’s plot, one could 100% argue that there really aren’t good guys on the dual sides of the game. if you compare ellie and abby, you know that ellie went on a murder frenzy to get revenge on abby for killing joel. on abby’s side of it all, you know that abby wasn’t all that great before coming across lev and yara, and even then, she killed people to do what everyone in said world aims to do: survive. prior to finding lev and yara, abby had killed numerous people before, and did, as the player sees, handle joel very cruelly before she ended up killing him. here’s one more example, one that’s more random (but it’s simply to compare abby vs. ellie’s people, if you will): joel and manny. joel went on a cross country murder spree to keep ellie safe, and killed a building full of people at the end of the game to save her life. in regards to manny, if you recall a discussion that manny and mel had in the beginning of abby’s parts of the game, the pair are discussing a happening where a group aside from the wlf, the seraphites (which we will discuss later) attacked them because the wlf killed children who were a part of their (the seraphite’s) group. manny voiced how he would prefer to keep their people (the wlf) safe, and challenges mel, implying that those “kids” weren’t really kids, because they were the ones who attacked their guys (the wlf) in the first place. as a general consensus, manny kills several people throughout the course of the game, which can be inferred or seen by the player, making him, for the sake of what i’m getting at, a bad guy.

we see in the game how ellie and abby’s people are unanimously bad. the last of us is set in a world where laws and morals are thrown out the window for the sake of survival, so this is no surprise. however, this dual perspective, “no bad guy,” ideology simply doesn’t apply in the world today. you may compare ellie vs. abby, or joel vs. manny, or bring in more characters in the game, such as tommy, nora, etc, claiming that all parties are bad. that makes perfect sense. but think about it like this: if this is meant to represent the israeli-palestinian perspective, and i give you the scenario of a five-year-old child versus a full-grown IDF soldier, what would you say? isn’t there an obvious answer as to who is in the wrong and who’s not? maiberg is 100% right in claiming that the game marginalizes the real-life palestinian experience. abby, ellie, joel, manny, etc, are not real people. but the thousands of innocent children who have been killed for the ridiculousness and inhumane israeli regime are. you can’t say each side is equal in awfulness, not when one side is full of innocent men, women, and children, some of which could never make it into a year of their lives. not when if one side pauses their battle, there would be a ceasefire, but if the converse pauses their battle, they would all be dead.

“And then they cheered afterward,” Druckmann, who grew up in Israel, recalls. “It was the cheering that was really chilling to me. … In my mind, I thought, ‘Oh, man, if I could just push a button and kill all these people that committed this horrible act, I would make them feel the same pain that they inflicted on these people.’"

remember how i said discussing neil druckmann's background was crucial? it is. druckmann, who, again, was born in israel, told the Washington Post that the game's cynical themes of revenge and suffering is linked to the 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (tw, lynching), who were killed by a mob (maiberg). allegedly, some of the incident was remembered in film, that druckmann watched, and in his interview, he explained his angry nature that came about in response to the video, and how he desired vengeance.

the last of us part 2 is mainly set in seattle, washington, where secondary main character, abby anderson, resides in with a militia group named the wlf (which we will also delve into later, alongside the seraphites). maiberg brings out how seattle, on a visual and mechanical level, is based around "a series of checkpoints, security walls, and barriers (Maiberg)." he notes: "[seattle] looks almost exactly like the tall, precast concrete barriers and watch towers Israel started building through the West Bank in 2000." here are side by side images for comparison:

now that we’ve discussed this, let us discuss one of most prevalent aspects of abby’s part of the story: the wlf, and the seraphites. the seraphites are a religious group, nicknamed “the scars” due to the scars the members of said group carve into their faces to display their membership, who the wlf, a makeshift militia group, runs into conflict with following the fall of FEDRA, the country’s former military. in a note in the game, a fedra commander explains that the city of seattle has been lost to the wolves (the wlf), who he names as terrorists. maiberg brings out the following: “Here, there are parallels to early Zionist organisations that fought British rule in the region. These organizations were also described as terrorists, and leaders of those organizations later became leaders in Israel, much like how Isaac, the leader of the Wolves, came to control Seattle. Other in-game notes, scenes of urban ambushes, and the bodies of executed FEDRA officers laboriously walk the player through the cliche "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter (Maiberg).”

maiberg also discusses a series of manners in which the fictional seraphites resemble real-life palestinians. here are the three ways he specifically discusses in his original post, but there are much more:

“The same note from the Seattle FEDRA commander that bitterly says the Wolves are in charge explains that it's now their responsibility to not only feed and shelter the people of Seattle, but deal with the "religious fanatics," referring to the Scars.

Later in the game, Ellie finds a location called "Martyr Gate," where the Scars' spiritual leader apparently died, indicating a religious significance of a specific and disputed location, and emphasizing the notion of martyrdom as central to their culture.

The Scars are able to get around Wolf patrols and various barriers around the city via an elaborate, secret system of bridges between skyscrapers. These function as a kind of flipped version of the underground tunnels Palestinians use to bypass Israeli blockades and other means of limiting free movement in order to get supplies and carry out attacks on Israel.”

one more post i would like to link is this one, the very reason i decided to make this in the first place. it captures the zionism in the last of us 2, along with the wlf vs. seraphite conflict, perfectly. i very much recommend you read it, as it explains it much better than i can.

the general consensus is this: the idea that the seraphites are equally as bad as the wlf, which implies that palestinians are equally as bad as israelis, simply doesn’t apply in 2024. as i said before: what is so vile and cruel about a newborn baby? a pregnant woman? an innocent man? NOTHING. part of the reason the last of us captures this so poorly is due to the apocalyptic nature of the world the game is set in. obviously, people would go rogue if their lives were put in peril by not only animalistic infected beings, but also humans. however, we live in a real world where laws and morals do, in fact, apply. this isn’t a video game where those are simply discarded. what the wlf and the seraphites did to each other in the last of us 2 could be any other day for them: but what israel is doing to palestine right now is a war crime, a genocide, and plainly vile.

THE LAST OF US SHOW, and zionism in the show’s cast

i don’t think i need to spend a lot of time here, because if you have made it this far, you are well aware of the real nature of the last of us and the last of us 2 already, so you must understand that the show is HBO’s take on the game’s story (which, need i remind you show-wise and game-wise, neil druckmann played a huge part in). i simply bring it up so that people are aware of the fact that the 2022 show is ALSO linked to the ongoing genocide, and the cast is a major part of that (however, if anyone would like me to delve deeper into the show, let me know, and i 100% will).

for the following season which is a sequel to the last, theorized to center around the happenings of the last of us 2, members who are set to play a few crucial characters in the game have been announced. this includes isabela merced, who will play dina woodward, ellie’s romantic partner for most of the game, alongside kaitlyn dever, who will play abby anderson.

many people freaked out when they realized kaitlyn dever will be playing abby, but not for the reason they should have been. if you are a last of us fan, you are well aware that abby’s muscles are a central aspect of her persona. yet, kaitlyn dever is on the skinnier side, and according to some, does not resemble abby.

but this is not the issue that is most crucial to discuss.

kaitlyn dever is a zionist, and so is isabela merced (i am under the impression that both of these claims are true, but i had trouble finding a source i deemed reliable enough to link here. if i do, however, i will). now, while i’m not here to riddle you with conspiracy theories, people believe this (zionism) is the reason kaitlyn dever in specific got the role of abby anderson (there is a separate actress, shannon berry, who more closely resembles abby, but made a post in solidarity with palestine. this is theorized to be the reason why she didn’t get the part, and why kaitlyn dever was announced shortly after this particular actress made said post). let us not also forget that ellie’s actor, bella ramsey, is also in support of israel, which can be seen here.

(edit: i was informed since making this that bella has a story on one of their social medias, showing their alleged support of palestine and calling for a ceasefire. i’m going to link this post where i spoke on it, so you aware of what i think on that front).

all of the previously provided information brings me to my final part of this post: boycotting the games, and boycotting the show.

BOYCOTTING THE GAME AND SHOW

i could go on and on about why this is so crucial, but we would be here forever. however, i’m going to paste in what i wrote in this post surrounding the topic of boycotting, as i personally believe i got it down quite well in regards to the last of us (the show and game). it reads:

"DO NOT BUY TLOU, TLOU REMASTERED, TLOU2, TLOU2 REMASTERED, OR ANY GAME FROM ND! neil druckmann has donated money to the IDF in the past. & where do you think he’s getting his money from? yeah, you got that. watch gameplays, pirate these games, or buy them secondhand. several shops sell used games. & for those of you who went and purchased the game anyway, knowing about all of this? fuck you.

if you think your $10 doesn’t matter, then think about this: okay, one person spends $10 on the game. whatever. but when 100,000 people do it? that’s a million dollars, going into the hands of a zionist, who is using YOUR money to help kill innocent men, women, and children. put that in your pipe and smoke it.

it is not just the games you need to boycott. HBO’S show also needs to be. follow this link to learn of more movies and shows you need to boycott, & the reasons why, including the last of us. let’s also not forget that dina & abby’s actresses are in support of israel, and BELLA RAMSEY, ellie’s actress, has also shown support.

boycott. the fucking. show. there are a million websites where you can pirate it, so you are not giving any of your support to it. resist."

what it comes down to is this: purchasing the game or watching the show directly from nd or HBO is not a must. spreading awareness and speaking out about palestine is. you are more than capable of not purchasing the game, or watching playthroughs, or buying the game secondhand, etc. you are more than capable of pirating the hbo show so that money is not made off of your engagement. it's not that difficult. i have said it once, and i will say it again: boycotting is a form of resistance, and that is the least we can do for those suffering in gaza as you read this. resist. people openly admitting that they went and purchased the game anyway simply make me sick. i hope you know what an awful thing to brag about that is, and how despicable of a human it makes you.

CONCLUSION

there's so much to discuss when it comes down to this topic, and it's possible that in the future, i will make a second part to this. however, for now, i really hope this does suffice. i believe knowing of the game's israeli nature is a step. but knowing the specifics is a leap, one that i need everyone engaged in this fandom to take, hence why i wanted to make this post at all.

i'm not saying anyone needs to quit liking the games or the show or whatever. i'm not saying you need to delete or throw away a game you spent $60 on. i've seen so many people who are way too dense to understand that. what i'm saying is that it's crucial you are at least AWARE of the content you are consuming. aware of why it even came about at all.

in my opinion, you can't separate the game from the roots. but you can remain aware of the inner workings of this world you've grown to love. you can keep spreading awareness about it, and you can do right by the people in gaza by discussing the ongoing genocide, and using your voice as much as you can.

i'm so lucky to have been able to gain a following on here in such a short amount of time, even if that following has gone up and down because i've chosen to post more about palestine as opposed to my previous content (granted, that fact won't deter me at all). i will keep using said following to keep speaking out for the people in gaza, and i encourage you to do the same. keep reblogging. keep speaking up. keep using your voices. the people in gaza need us. be there for them.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE 🇵🇸🍉.

LINKS AND RESOURCES:

neil druckmann | the official the last of us podcast | the not so hidden israeli politics of the last of us 2, by emanuel maiberg (i highly recommend you read the full post. it discusses several crucial details i didn't discuss in this post) | galid shalit prisoner exchange | Neil Druckmann Speaking on the Washington Post | 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (TW: LYNCHING) | 'The Last of Us Part II' Is a Grim and Bloody Spectacle, but a Poor Sequel | Veiling Colonial Violence: The Last of Us Part II, Israel and the Erasure of Power (full disclosure, i did not read the full post. i merely needed the quote in the very beginning of it) | zionism in tlou2 | isabela merced | kaitlyn dever | bella ramsey's support of israel

PALESTINE LINKS

—

[flamingpudding]

Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

A/N: I finally got my copy of AGIT and it sparked this prompt idea, I might continue on...

"Of all the times why were we thrown into a different dimension…"

"I am not happy about this either, twerp."

Danny gave his body double a scorching glare. Dan only shrugged as he leaned back into the park bench, hiding a chuckle. Even if the situation was dire, it was kind of funny too. Good things had changed so much since he got a human body. Danny had become more of a brother to him than his nemesis or time original, especially since Danny had gotten the crown and was trying to smooth things over for ghosts and humans. Plus he finally understood why Jazz like to tease them so much as her younger siblings. He got to tease his time original / cousin / 'younger' brother now too, well he did see himself as the older one when they could technically pass as twins.

"We are stuck looking like this! Our powers don't work and I can't open a portal, Dan!"

"And what do you want me to do about it? Clockwork is not responding to either of us."

Dan studied Danny who was still pacing in knee-high snow, then looked down at his hand which was smaller than he remembered. He tried reaching out to his ghost powers but nothing responded. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Danny stopping his pacing and looking back at Dan, his voice soft from resignation.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"It's... nothing." I don't remember what I did last. Why do you ask?"

"It's the same for me. We are stranded for some unknown reason in an entirely different Dimension in six-year-old bodies, with no clue or solution to get home and our ghost powers being all wonky as shit! And clockwork won't react to us yelling his name into the snowstorm we are currently in! At least we are cold-resistant!"

Danny resumed pacing in the snow, kicking random little snow hills he was making with his pacing as he ranted. Dan was watching him from the park bench with a scowl of his own. Both had found themself waking up to each other in a pile of snow in a park that was located in a city they had no idea about, the only thing they had was a green sticky note with the words 'Code Bat: Different Dimension'.

That led to Danny yelling for clockwork into the starting snowstorm. They knew their powers weren't completely gone. Wherever they were they were in a place with a lot of ambient ectoplasm.

"We should look for a way out of the snow twerp. Even with cold resistance, we should stay out here." Dan huffed as he tried to make out the buildings around them outside of the park, Danny instantly stopped pacing tilting his head.

"Where should-"

Both boys yelled in absolute horror as they suddenly got picked up and were carried like a sack of potatoes under the arms of strange guys. Instincts kicked in and the two instantly fought back but the guys carrying them didn't appear to be bothered.

The wind whisked past their ears making hearing anything difficult until they finally got put down next to each other. Instantly Dan took half a step before Danny, glaring at the ones that abducted them from a park. "Who the fuck are you, guys?!"

"Language kid. And I should be asking what the fuck you little kids were doing out in the middle of the worst Snowstorm Gotham had in a long time?" The guy in a red helmet said towering over them with crossed arms. "I know you street rats are smarter than staying out in the open like this. Don't you kids have a shelter?"

Street Rats? Okay, so what if their clothes looked a little ratty? Hold a second. Danny and Dan looked at each other briefly as if for the first time noticing how worn the clothes they had looked compared to what they were used to wearing. Great so not only were they in twin six-year-old bodies but also wearing such worn-out clothes that people saw them as street rats.

"None of your fucking business." Dan retorted, the fun of the situation now gone and anger and frustration settling in as he glared at their abductors. Danny on the other hand tilted his head miming the confused child as he stared up at them.

"We got lost."

"You got lost?" The other guy in blue with a mask asked them unbelieving and Danny only nodded.

"Yup, we got lost."

Dan watched how the two adults playing dress up exchanged glances. He peaked back at Danny and then back at them. Before making a probably short-sighted decision.

"Fuck this!" He said out loud and grabbed his twin's hand. Once more he reached for his ghost core and powers, internally yelling at it to get a response. And it worked, sort of.

He felt intangibility wash over them so he attempted to escape by phasing him and Danny through the ground only… to get halfway stuck as the old on his ghostly powers got lost. Dan's eye twitched as he realized he was stuck in the ground up to his tights.

"Dan what the fuck?!" Danny who was now stuck knee-deep into the floor yelled.

"I was at least attempting to escape!"

"We are stuck now! This is even worse! You could have just let me talk our way out of this!"

"Oh hell no. I remember the others saying often enough that you should not do the talking!"

"Phasing us through the floor is not better at all! Our powers are wonky or did you forget that?!"

While the twin boy's where fighting Nightwing and Red Hood exchanged worried glances.

"Hood…"

"Yea… Probably Meta Twins on the run."

"I will contact the others."

[kungfubarbie101]

Phone Call- König

nsfw/smut, fem!reader, short image, masturbation, dirty talk, male orgasm

You and König have been on the phone only 5 minutes, he had called you to let you know he was finally finished with his mission and he would be home tomorrow night. Suddenly König was being extra quiet which wasn’t really like him since he’s was quite talkative with you over the phone and in person, but that’s until you heard a low groan come from the other line, making you stop in the middle of your sentence and listen closer.

“König?” You say to him, hearing nothing but muffle movement as if he was losing connection. “König?” You said a little louder into the phone, only hearing nothing on the other line.

“Yes dear?” His thick german accent rung through the phone. König was listen intensely to your voice, his hand working up the shaft of his dick. “Are you okay? You stopped talking…” You asked him softly, only hearing a small pleasurable sigh.

“I’m f-fine…..J-just keep talking…” He told you, waiting to hear your voice once again, fucking the palm of hand in sexual frustration, he was choking his words out. You furrow your eyebrows as he told you to continue, you wanted to hear how his mission was but-

“(Your name)……please continue….” His voice caught you off guard as he sounded desperate for you to talk to him more, wanting to hear your sweet words linger out your mouth. “Oh? Why?” You asked him, still not quite knowing what he was doing on the other line.

“Fuck (your name),” He let out, almost in a irritated tone, “Just be a good girl and continue talking for me”.

Your eyes had widened, finally understanding what he was doing, biting your bottom lip as you grinned. “Does it feel good honey?” Your voice sweet and seductive as you spoke, making König stroke himself faster, “Yes..” His voices sounded raspy and shaky, it made your stomach tingle, your thighs squeezed, rubbing together, giving some friction against yourself.

“Darling~” He let out, a shaky groan escaping him, “Tell me how you want me to touch you right now” He muttered, almost embarrassed to say it. You let out a soft chuckle before speaking, “I want you to hold my waist tightly as your bury your cock into my pussy, staring into my eyes deeply as you do…” You tell him, you could feel yourself getting wet through your panties just thinking about it. König let out another audible groan, a soft whimper leading out.

“Fuckin hell….I want you so bad (your name)” You could hear his breath quicken before you continued, “ I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore, rub my clit with your rough thumb as you whisper praises and degrading things into my ear, only making me beg for more”. König’s eyes closed, his dick rutting up against the palm of his hand, only imagining that it was your plush pussy clenching around it. Ohhh the thoughts he was thinking about.

König let a pleasurable moan, pre-cum started to leak out of his tip. His pace had quickened faster by the second when you spoke to him, your voice being a addictive drug in which he was getting high. His legs trembled softly, his hips bucking sloppily upwards, a wave of pleasure washed over him, a louder moan coming from the phone indicated he had finally finished.

His cum leaking from his tip, running down his hand, coding his fingers. All you could do was listen to him, imagining how pretty he must have looked when he came. You where turned on by the fact he reached his climax, just from hearing your voice. “Did you cum baby?” You ask him, hearing a low ‘mhm’ from the other line. You smiled, “Good boy…” You tell him, praising him lightly, wanting to be there to give him tender kisses.

“Thank you, schatz. Now, let me get all cleaned up, I want to hear the rest of your day princess…”

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man? - part two

a/n: I know John isn’t American but I kept picturing him as Joe from SIX and honety Gibs from NCIS and I couldn’t stop myself. I sincerely apologize that this John is American-grumpy-hot-military-older man coded (not really). Also I know it took a month and I’m so sorry 🙈 I got so busy at work but it’s here! Enjoy!!

Warnings: smutty smut smut, phone sex

non-mcu masterlist

part one

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @calicocat45 @whos-fran @vonev @yyiikes

The situation at hand is tricky to say the least. Waiting around and trying to be careful of everyone’s feelings will push you away. On the other hand, he’s wanted to show you the love that you deserve and now is his chance.

Fuck Simon.

Fuck him for treating you like a safety net and like you’re replaceable. Fuck him for letting you shoulder the burden of your relationship and expecting you to always be at his beck and call. Fuck him for lying to you instead of having the balls to just be honest about why he wanted to break up. Fuck Simon Riley for saying that you could find a better man and expecting you to not listen to him for once.

“I want a lot of things,” he starts and takes a moment to choose his words, “I might be a gentleman but I’m a selfish man. I won’t take what’s not offered but you’d be hell bent to find me sharing my life with others. If you say that it’s over and mean it, well then love, I’ll be the most selfish man you’ve ever met when it comes to you. Im not some young lad anymore; I’m settled in my life and now that things are stable I want someone to share it with. I’ll follow your lead when it comes to how we share it but just know that I don’t want something casual or even friendship.”

You’re still resting your chin on his shoulder, listening to his every word as hope begins to fill your eyes. It’s the last sentence he whispers as he gazes down at you that causes your breath to hitch;

“I’ll love you until my lungs give out.”

And this man Delivers. The capital d is not a typo. John Price understands that you’re an independent person and he respects that. That’s not to say that he doesn’t spoil the absolute shit out of you and ensures that you are happy in every facet of your life imaginable.

The dogs are being wild today and overwhelming you? As soon as he gets home, he’s taking them out on a walk and giving you instructions to go have yourself a nice hot bath. Dinner is already taken care of so no need to worry about that. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the quiet.

He’s been on deployment for a couple weeks and the loneliness is starting to creep in? You will be getting at least two check in texts a day and a call or FaceTime if he can before you go to bed. You should also expect some sort of care package to be on your doorstep weekly. This could be anything from flowers to your whole ass Amazon cart, all you need to do is say you miss him and he’s got you covered.

Things have been a little tense between the two of you? Well get ready because you’re going to be doing a check in that night where the two of you talk about whatever is going on. If it’s something small like you’re both stressed from work and a weekend getaway is needed, he’s already got that planned. If it’s something that needs more work, he’s ready to dive right into it and figure it out.

Still true to his internal word, nothing physical happens between you two at first. He wanted desperately to kiss you when he told you he would love you until his last breath but he didn’t. Disgusted by the enormity of his craving for you, John vowed to wait until you asked for his physical affection. Of course this meant he wouldn’t give into any of your advances until you told what you wanted.

After that night, you began the long and arduous process of breaking down John’s resolve. While it may have been unspoken, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t going to give into him so quickly. It started with closing the distance between you two. Instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you’d lay your feet in his lap or move just close enough to trail your fingers over the back of his hand. Only would you move to sit beside him if he slung his thick arm over the couch’s back and beckoned you closer. Then you would take every opportunity possible to cuddle into his side and slyly skirt your hands across the waistband of his sweats when you wrapped your arms around him. If you were in the kitchen together, you were always just out of his grasp. His fingers could grasp at the back of your shirt but never fully grab you. You’d swiftly slip around him if he moved behind you but not before brushing your hands over him in some way.

Eventually you grew bolder and began to shower with the door propped open. You’d said it was so the dogs could still see you but John isn’t stupid. He knew that you wanted him to catch a glimpse of your body through the foggy glass doors. But here’s the thing; he’s not Simon. Simon would’ve joined you and fucked you on that glass door like your life depended on it but not a captain price.

No no no. John Price is going to make you say those three little words, ‘I want you’, before he touches you even if it means leaving on for a mission without so much as a chaste peck on the lips. No amount of sly looks and sneaky touches is going to convince this man to give into you.

He starts beating you at your own game though. his bedroom door is suddenly always cracked open making it so that you can hear every rumbling moan and gasp of your name when he fists his cock at night. You no longer feel the waistband of his underwear when you wrap your arms around his am waist during your cuddles. Instead your fingers find the thick trail of hair that disappears under his sweatpants. Speaking of which, John knows about grey sweat pants and he exploits that turn on every chance he gets. Soon it goes from just wearing them low on his hips to forgoing boxers (as mentioned above) and sometimes he even ‘forgets’ his shirt. The memory of his thick bare chest on display alone is enough to make you clench your legs together.

When he finally does have to leave for work, he presses a light kiss to your temple and tells you to be careful. It goes without saying but John makes your promise anyways. Eases his old heart as he likes to say. If only he would go easy on yours…

Nearly every photo, FaceTime, what have you, this man is bare chested with lidded eyes and a knowing smirk on his face. He knows that you’re frustrated with the way things have played out; namely his departure with no memorable moments. He’s already become an expert in you, knowing what your body langue means, what your blushes mean, and most importantly, what your words truly mean.

Probably about a month in to this mission is when it comes to a climax. Your hands were doing nothing to ease the ache between your legs and your toys were making it worse. It was as if your body knew that it was you instead John rubbing small circles into your clit late at night. You’d tried nearly everything you could think of aside from finding someone in a pub and telling the older captain about your dilemma. While you two weren’t anything more than roommates with feelings at this point, it still felt wrong to find someone else to help you out. With only one person that your body wanted and nothing you could do about it, you settled for being sexually frustrated and irritable.

John is finally able to get some alone time to call you and actually talk to you. Settled into some poor excuse for a cot, he makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to pick up. It makes maybe a few rings before your tight voice comes through with a short ‘hello?’

He wants to chuckle and fails to suppress it, “Well hello to you too, love.”

Immediately you sigh when you recognize his voice, “oh John it’s you. How are you?”

“Been better. What’s been going on with you?”

You let out another deep sigh, pausing to answer as you contemplate what to tell him.

“What is it, love? Something bothering you?”

“I…I’m just….im just irritable,” you attempt to pass off as the full truth but John knows you better than that.

“Irritable you say?”

You can hear him shuffle around on his end and it causes your legs to cross to even think about him. God it’s beyond annoying to be this turned on over just hearing him move around, let alone hear his voice right now.

“I’d say a relaxing day is in order,” he teases with a low pitched sultry tone, “find some relief in a massage maybe.”

Relief.

The word feels hot as it washes over your brain and invokes images that would make a nun curse under her breath.

You snort at his suggestion. In that small noise, he finds all the answers he needed; you’re about to break and murmur those three sweet words.

“No appeal to that, love?” He asks and you can just hear the smirk he’s wearing. “A massage isn’t the relief you’re looking for though is it? You need a different type of relief, isn’t that right love?”

That bastard.

You hear him shuffle again and you swear to god you hear the sound of a belt coming undone.

“Talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”

If you weren’t needy before, you must certainly are now. You feel pathetic, a bitch in heat with the way your body starts to react to his simple words. Practically mumbling you attempt to tell him to fuck off but it doesn’t sting as much as you’d hoped. John laughs off your feeble attempt at hiding the true reason you’re in a mood.

Instead of adding flame to fire, he stays quiet.

It takes 40 agonizing seconds of silence for you to groan his name out of frustration. The captain only hums his acknowledgment that you spoke.

Phone sex isn’t new to you by any means however there’s something about this time that causes you to falter. There’s something about the way he initiated it but is allowing you to lead where it goes. There’s something about the way he knew what you needed within seconds. There’s something about the way your body seems to know that it craves his without ever touching.

“Yes,” you mumble while your cheeks burn and your body sings at the thought of getting what it truly desires.

John chuckles under his breath and the sardonic sounds causes your eyes to squeeze shut.

“Be a good girl for me and slip your hand into your panties.”

Your hearing dulls to a muffled tone as your hand follows his instructions. Barely does your ears register the sound of skin on skin, a slick hand taunting an impossibly hard cock. Your name comes out as a groan when you tell him to continue.

“Fuuckkk, love. Tell me are ya wet?”

“S…soaked.” You sigh as you roll your clit with your fingertips.

He lets out a string of curses as his hips buck up into his hand and his cock throbs from his slow pace.

“I want you to keep rubbing your clit and fuck yourself with your fingers,” the captain orders you, “and dont try to hide any of those pretty sounds.”

You mumble a weak ‘okay’ as you work your clit in small circles, feeling yourself become even more wet.

Strings of curses fall from his lips as he listens to your desperate cries of pleasure. The sounds of his thrusts get louder and louder in time when you bury two fingers in and become to fuck yourself like he told you to. It feels better than all of your other attempts but it’s not enough.

Nothing will be enough until you can feel John’s cock deep inside of you. Until you can feel his hips rut against yours and his hoarse moans in your ear. Until you feel the burn that his facial hair will give you when he eats you out like a starved and neglected dog. Until you feel his warm speed leak from you after he’s worked you through several of your own orgasms.

The thoughts of what is to come push you over the edge and you moan out his name in an absolutely pornographic manner. It stirs something disgustingly powerful and sinful deep in his gut when he hears it. He can only imagine the beautiful display of pleasure and bliss that you’ve come as you lay panting post orgasm.

You can only imagine how stunning he looks with his sweats pulled down to his mid thigh, his bare chest rapidly rising and falling while his stomach is painted with his own cum.

“John?” You whisper after your breathing has returned to normal(ish). “When are you coming home?”

His lips turn up in a smirk at your word choice, “missing me more than you let on, now are ya love?”

“Yeah it’s lonely without you here. you can’t leave on another deployment like this without fucking me before.”

“I promise it won’t happen again, my love.”

[luvacookie]

୨୧ thru ur phone.

connie leaves his phone unattended.

❥ warnings : cheating, threats, intended useage of lowercase, fem blk coded reader

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : sorry guys was in an angsty mood so i wrote an angsty drabble </3 but i am considering writing a follow up to this !

“the fuck is this connie ?”

he stares at his game, the lighting from the screen highlighting the contortion of his face.

“what’cha on about..” he says dazed, groaning as he gets killed again.

you throw his phone on top of his desk harshly, the device landing face up. he jumps at the unexpected, loud noise, his eyes finally cutting away from the screen and to you with a squint.

“what the fuck ? i’m in the middle of s’mthin’ ‘nd you throwin’ shit in my face,” he says with a huff, unaware of what almost hit him.

“ion give a fuck about your dumb fucking game ! who the fuck is that and why is she texting you about how she misses you in her fucking bed constance,” you shout at him, your hands fidgeting in annoyance.

his face drops at that statement, suddenly sitting up straight and realising that it was his phone that you were holding.

he snatches it up quickly, scrolling through all the notifications.

“the fuck you going through my shit for y/n—” he says annoyed, looking up at you with a scowl.

“don’t play that card with me right now, i’m so close to beating the living shit outta your ass !” you yell, the fidgeting turning into mild pacing.

he watches you move up and down with narrowed eyes, the words on his tongue struggling to find an exit. “it’s nobody, stop stressin’ over it.”

“ ‘nobody’ my fucking ass constance ! you think ‘cus you named the bitch ‘work’ in yo’ phone means i’m fuckin’ dumb ?” you snap at him, standing in one place.

he stands up out of his gaming chair, attempting to cross the room to you.

“don’t fuckin’ come near me connie. i swear to god, i will put hands on your scumbag ass—” you spew, taking steps backwards.

“y/n talk to me, we can talk about this,” he tries, his hands reaching for you.

you scoff. “fuck tha’ and fuck you. get your shit and fuckin’ go.”

he looks taken aback, not expecting those words out of your mouth. “huh ?”

“i’m not fucking repeating myself, find somewhere else to be ‘cus i do not want to see your fucking face right now,” you say firmly, watching him.

his eyes scan over you in mild disbelief. he tries to step towards you again and you step back, your mindset clear and decided. he stops and looks around for a brief moment before disappearing into your shared bedroom.

you exhale a shaky breath and the tears, that you didn’t know you were holding, start falling. you hold your mouth to silence the sounds of your cries, opting to move into the living room and sit on the couch as they continue to slide down your face.

you try to slow your heart rate and your breathing, desperate to keep your composure so that when he walks into the room you can keep your head held high.

you’re texting your best friend, informing her of the situation when connie appears in front of you from a distance, holding a duffle bag with a few random items in it and his shoes.

“i- i’m sorry y/n, i am,” he mumbles, rocking back and forth on his feet like a child.

“sorry isn’t fucking good enough,” you reply.

he opens his mouth to say something but decides not to, choosing to put his shoes on and unlock the front door.

he turns to look at you before leaving, the chain rattling as the door shuts.

when you feel confident enough that he’s out of range you start sobbing, the tears flowing consistently.

there’s nothing you can do but let the heartbreak consume you, ignoring the sound of his car racing down the street.

[suiana]

✎ yandere! side character that's the hot guy everyone wants to pursue in the hit otome game 'last waltz'!!! too bad he's only a side character and not one of the love interests

✎ yandere! side character that rides a super cool motorcycle and has multiple piercings. fuck he's so hot- wait he plays the electric guitar too?! why's he only a side character and not a love interest?!

✎ yandere! side character that's... sentient?! huh he's the only love interest for you now?! you're not complaining though, he makes things super spicy 😈😈

✎ yandere! side character that is obsessed with you. that's why you get special treatment :3 he was supposed to be one of the love interests but he's a sentient being and changed the code to become a side character for everyone instead.

"hold on tight baby. we're gonna go fast."

he laughs as an angry man in an expensive car chases after the both of you. you see, you had somehow isekai'd into the world of 'last waltz', a hit otome game back in your world. and you were on a date with one of the boring love interests until the hot side character you loved whisked you off your feet and practically kidnapped you from the love interest.

it was a funny thing to see, a side character fighting with one of the love interests. but who were you kidding, this guy was practically meant to be one of the love interests! his story and everything was so well developed and he had the looks too! it's just funny that he's a side character... that's in love with you?!

back in your world he'd often pop up when he wasn't supposed to, going on dates with your virtual avatar and... some other spicy things. like removing your in game clothes while you were asleep and leaving you in shock when you entered the game again.

at first you thought it was just a glitch. but a glitch couldn't be like this, right?! literally creating new whole stories and events just with him?! with the other love interests not even having a chance with you?!

you tried sharing your experience with others online, but it never worked. it was like there was some unknown force stopping you from doing so... your phone suddenly running out of battery, the app glitching out... it was so weird that you just gave up.

and then you were suddenly isekai'd into the game?? nothing made sense anymore. so you just lived like the main character, going on dates with hot love interests, taking their money and relishing in their constant love and affection... until the side character popped up and began to replace the love interests.

whatever, he was your favourite character anyways. and you knew he knew it. I mean, why else would he be smirking as you leaned into his touch as he sped away from the angry love interest?

"they must love me... more than the boring love interest at least."

he seemed to be in his own thoughts as he laughed boisterously. you ignored him, simply resting your head against his broad shoulders as the constant honking from the other love interest slowly faded away.

hm. you wonder if the side character will be as rough as other times. after all, the route he seems to be taking... is to his house. and whenever you were at his house, it always ended up with you in his bed. naked.

oh well.

whatever, it was just a virtual world. you'd be out soon so it doesn't matter.

right?

[freedomfireflies]

404*

Summary: The one where you and Harry are software engineers on a project for Juno Inc.

And you can’t fucking stand each other.

Word Count: 2.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“What the hell are you still doing here?”

Your eyes never leave the computer screen as Harry’s familiarly snippy question echoes across the empty lab. “Working,” you answer simply.

He snorts as the door falls shut behind him. “It’s two in the fucking morning, I thought you left hours ago.”

“I did. And then I came back.”

You vaguely hear him walk further into the dark room, slipping around the different tables as he moseys his way closer. “Why?”

“S’this fucking sequence,” you mumble, now glaring at the different variants that litter the test. “Every time I run the simulation, the connection fails. And it shouldn’t.”

Your peripheral catches the way he uses his knuckle to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Is there a missing link?”

“There shouldn’t be. I’ve run it before, and it’s worked fine. But now it’s not. It’s like something is broken.”

“Or missing,” he argues, coming to a stop behind your chair. He studies the project from over your shoulder, and you feel your muscles recoil when you get a whiff of his cologne. “There could be something wrong with the back end.”

“Okay, well, there’s not,” you retort, shooting him a quick glare. “I already checked.”

“Well maybe you missed it. You have a tendency to misplace things.”

“I didn’t misplace it, Harold, I studied every inch of that fucking code, and there was nothing broken or missing.”

He leans back, arms crossing as he regards both you and the program. “Maybe you should check it again.”

“And maybe you should bite me,” you huff, too overworked to deal with the snarky attitude. “I really don’t have time for this today, all right? Can you just leave me to it?”

“I’d like to, but clearly you don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies calmly, and even without looking at him, you can sense his smug smile. “Every time I leave you to it, I come back to find out you’ve wrecked our project.”

Your eyes roll. “First of all, it’s not our project. It’s my project. And second…why are you even here? I thought you had shit to do tonight.”

“I did, but I’m done now.”

“Oh, so, naturally you came back just to annoy me?”

“Naturally.” He places his hand on the desk beside you and leans down, hovering near your arm as he glances over the computer. “There could be something wrong with the framework. Try the sequence again, I wanna see how it behaves.”

“No thanks.”

Harry smirks, and you realize you don’t like how close his face is. “Relax, Tinkerbell, I just wanna help.”

“And I don’t want your help,” you remind him, using your elbow to shove him to the side. “I’ve spent months with this program, it’s my baby, and I will fix it alone.”

“We’re supposed to be working together,” he argues, but it’s much too coy. “So stop being such a bitch and just run the goddamn sequence.”

You snort under your breath as you spin around in your chair to look at him. “It was that bad, huh?”

He settles back against the table behind him, hands shoving into his pockets as he stares right back. “What was bad?”

“The sex.” You jut your chin toward him. “The thing you had to do tonight. It was bad enough that you had to come back here and start swinging your dick around just to feel better.”

He smirks, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Gee, how romantic.”

He exhales an amused laugh and glances around the lab. “She was still hung up on her ex. Think it lasted all of fifteen minutes, and I’m pretty sure she faked it.”

“Well, she was having sex with you. Of course she faked it.”

His smile gets a bit bigger. “Well, I faked it, too.”

“You?” you scoff. “No way. She could have sneezed on your cock, and you still would have cum.”

His head shakes, grinning wildly. “Normally, yeah. But we both just wanted to get out of there.”

“Poor girl.”

“Yeah? What about poor me?”

“Oh, I never feel sorry for you. You always find a way to get what you want eventually.”

His head tilts, green eyes sparkling behind the tortoiseshell frames of his glasses. “Do I?”

“Clearly.” You settle back into your chair, legs crossing. “I mean, have you ever heard the word no in your life?”

“Hear it all the time with you.”

“Exactly. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I’m keeping you humble.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

That smug look of endearment returns as the lab falls silent. He watches you for quite some time, and you think that you’d pay anything to hear what he’s really thinking.

Then, he smirks. “Good,” he says, and with that, he’s pushing off the desk and striding to you.

He bridges the five-foot gap between you with ease, and you aren’t even afforded the chance to take a breath before he’s grabbing hold of your face and kissing you.

His large body bends in order to reach you in the chair, but you can feel him tugging on you. Encouraging you up and into his hold as you gasp against his mouth and allow him to help you stand.

It’s a seamless dance. Familiar. He grabs onto your hips and slams you onto the desk, knocking a few pens and some of the various equipment out of the way.

His hands are sliding up your shirt. Memorizing the expanse of your skin as his lips press into your neck. Nipping and sucking just below your ear in the way he knows you love.

Your fingers have disappeared into his curls. They’re soft and oddly comforting. Perfect to tug on as you whimper gently and arch your back. Pressing your tits against his chest as he groans.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he murmurs, now sliding his hand toward the zipper on your jeans.

You nod quickly, mewling as you practically buck into his touch.

He smiles, mouth trailing across your jaw, “I was thinking about someone else, too.”

Your lashes flutter shut.

“The whole time,” he carries on, rough fingertips dancing down the front of your underwear. “When I was with her. Couldn’t think about anybody else but you. Every time she’d whine or say my name, I thought about how you’d do it. How you’d sound, how you’d feel.”

Your nails scratch down his black t-shirt, needing more than anything to feel his skin. See it littered with your marks. Your claim.

“She could never do it right,” he tells you, and it makes your stomach wrench. “Never do it like you.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe, wiggling in an effort to help him yank your pants down. “S’that why you couldn’t get hard?”

He grins as he flicks his belt undone. “Who says I couldn’t get hard?”

With a rather determined tug, he shoves your panties to the side, large hands stroking through your folds.

“Because if I’m thinking about you,” he whispers, eyes trained on your cunt, “I’m always fucking hard.”

You whine when he thrusts inside, two fingers to start. He’s rarely gentle, but you love it. And so does he, obsessed with the image of your pussy stretching around him. Any part of him. His tongue, his hands, his cock.

He’s bigger than most, and he always makes sure to prep you before he gives you what you really want. Granted, he taunts you with the idea of ruining you and splitting your poor cunt in half each time. Driving himself to the hilt before your tight little hole is ready. He likes the idea of corrupting you for someone else. 

“Relax,” he instructs, soft but firm. “S’gonna hurt a lot more if you don’t.”

You drop your head back and balance yourself on your hands, legs pushed open by his hips. “I’m trying,” you whimper, just to see his jaw clench.

“Gonna have to try harder,” he says, working his fingers into your wet cunt while his glasses slowly begin to slip down his nose. Settling at a crooked angle, and it makes you smile. “Can’t give you my cock if you don’t.”

You push your lips into a pout. “Please, Har.”

He looks up, the veins in his neck prominent as he seems to swallow another groan. “You’re so tight, Tink. Gonna wreck this pretty pussy if I don’t get you stretched.”

“Good,” you moan, thighs shaking as he brings a third finger closer. “Want you to.”

He grins. “Yeah?”

You nod fervently. “Want you to do whatever you want. I’m always good for you. Always fit you.”

“You do,” he agrees quietly, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit as he works through your arousal at a quicker pace. “Always take me so well. Even when it makes you cry.”

You whine again at the thought as he finally yanks his fingers free and moves to retrieve his cock. 

You’re nearly salivating at the idea, scooting toward the edge of the table in preparation as he pulls himself out and steps up to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him. Hard and heavy in his hand, leaking the most delicious looking drops of pre-cum that you’re already thrilled he never offered this other girl.

He runs the tip through your folds a time or two, making you both squirm before he gently begins to push in.

You have to give him props for the amount of restraint he always demonstrates for you. The ability to go slow and be delicate despite the fact all he wants to do is ram himself inside you and settle into your warm cunt.

Like now. You can see the effects of such sluggish movements, the way he holds himself back until he’s sure you’ll be all right. Teeth gritting, muscles tensed, cock throbbing.

You reach out and gently slide his glasses back up, making sure they’re comfortable and that he can see all right before kissing him. “Okay…okay, go.”

He kisses you back quickly before studying you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, hooking your leg around his hip. “Need it, Har, please.”

And that’s all it takes for him to sheath himself inside your aching pussy, disappearing completely between your legs as you both moan.

The quiet lab isn’t so quiet anymore, and you throw your arms around his neck as he begins to pull out and push back in.

“There she is,” he grunts, large hand squeezing your thigh to keep you still. “Look at you, Tink, taking me so well.”

“Always,” you exhale, pressing your mouth to his cheek. 

“Better than she ever was,” he continues, setting a quicker rhythm now. “So much better.”

He’s pounding you into the desk, hitting spots that make you see stars, and you clench around him until he gasps.

“Funny how well you take me…when you claim to hate me so much,” he says now, unable to resist needling you, and you whimper.

“I do,” you insist, despite the way you scratch down his back. “Fucking hate you.”

“Yeah?” His hips snap to yours. “S’that why you always beg for my cock?”

You don’t like the insinuation that you beg him for anything, especially when you know that he’s right. But you’re too far gone right now to take care, equally as depraved of pleasure as he seems to be.

The two of you don’t do this often. Maybe once or twice a month, if that. Most of the time, it’s incredibly unfriendly. A quick fuck in the supply closet or in his car in the parking lot. In between quippy remarks about how fucking unhinged the other is. How idiotic, and uncouth, and how goddamn annoying.

Because he is. So endlessly annoying and every day you have to resist the urge to slap those fucking glasses off his face.

But he knows how to fuck. That much is certain, and despite your immeasurable hatred for him, you can’t help but fall victim to his prowess.

In fact, moments like this are about the only time you don’t mind him. That you can actually stand him, and even want to submit to him.

Of course, you’re filled with regret and embarrassment the second you’re both finished, but for these few minutes…you don’t mind.

“Every fucking day,” he continues, holding onto your waist as he buries his cock deeper. “Have to watch you parade around like you’re fucking God’s gift to technology.”

You’d snort if you had enough air in your lungs to do so. 

“In your fucking tight little tank tops and see through dresses,” he seethes, dragging you back to the edge of the desk to angle you the way he likes. “With your hair always up in that stupid ponytail. Just begging to be pulled. To be yanked onto your knees while you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes roll back as you keen into his body. Memories of swallowing around him flooding your mind as you shiver.

Despite his aggravating remarks, he’s always so proud of you when you take his cock down your throat. He knows it’s a lot and he knows he can’t force you to do anything your body isn’t equipped to handle.

But he’s enamored with the way you try. Pleased to see you lick him, suck him, take as much of him as you can. He might hate you, but he praises you more than anybody else ever has.

And it’s one of the main reasons you can’t quit him.

“Then maybe…you shouldn’t look,” you pant, whimpering when he thrusts particularly hard. “I don’t wear that shit for you.”

He snorts, now grabbing onto your wrist and forcing your hand against your clit. He moves your fingers for you, pressing them into the sensitive nerves until you cry out and clamp down on him again.

“No?” he taunts, cock twitching inside you as he nears his release. “Then who do you wear it for, hm? Fucking Sam?”

You make another noise as he pushes your body into more immense pleasure, touch still locked atop yours.

“No, not Sam,” he decides. “Cause Sam can’t do it the way I can. S’why you came to me, isn’t it?”

You don’t dignify this with a response. You don’t have to. He knows.

“Sam can’t make you cum, can he?” Harry continues, almost vengefully as he feels you get closer. “Never fucking could. That’s why you only cum for me.”

It’s blinding. So intense that it makes your entire body ache as you fall victim to the wave of pleasure pulling you under.

He’s right behind you, spilling into your cunt before spilling out of it. Dripping down your legs, down the table, down his thighs as you both ride each other through the bliss.

He doesn’t let you release your clit for at least a good two minutes after, ignoring your pleas for mercy as your body struggles against the sensation.

It’s overwhelming. Hot, sticky, sweaty. He pulls out to go grab a towel from the supply closet before bringing it back and helping you clean up. 

He leaves a few teasing licks to your cunt in the process, and you swat your hand across his head in warning.

He smirks.

Once he’s finished, he pulls your jeans back on and up before tucking himself into his pants to do the same. 

Then, after helping you hop down, he offers you a lopsided grin and pushes his glasses back up.

“Now,” he says coyly, “go be a good girl and run the fucking sequence.”

Next Part:

~ Off the Shelf* (pt. 2)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

[porcelainseashore]

Darkroom

Pairing: RE4R! Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader

Summary: You're a Sunday regular at the darkroom of your local nightclub, finding liberation through sex with random strangers and spontaneous encounters. One night, you meet someone whose touch feels different, and you connect in ways you never expected.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, implied consent, anonymous sex, group sex, public sex (nightclub), voyeurism, anal, fingering, oral (m receiving), creampie, strangers to lovers, romance, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, drug references, swearing.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing gn! reader as I would like to be more inclusive in my work. I’ve also tried to educate myself on the discourse surrounding darkrooms and hope I’ve portrayed them respectfully, as safe spaces created by the gay community.

Special thanks to @alibellerosetta and @sofmoth for beta’ing this piece—you’re simply the best!

AO3 Link | Playlist

Fingertips trailing across the concrete walls of an old wartime bunker, its labyrinthine structure causing you to navigate by adventure and curiosity when you were new, but now, you had the entire layout committed to memory. You drifted through the haze of smoke and rooms—oh so many rooms—littered with nooks and crannies to engage in the kinds of deeds one would get up to in a nightclub like this. 

Brutal, fast-paced techno assaulted your ears, but you welcomed it as you did with the throngs of party-goers passing you by, like swimming through jellyfish and seaweed, in this maddeningly beautiful underwater world. All you could hear was a wall of sound and your own breathing, teeth chattering and chest throbbing as heavy bass reverberated through your body. If you stayed any longer, you would vaporize into thin air. And so, you plunged into the lower depths, down further passageways and corridors to your final destination.

People wouldn’t understand why you do what you do. Why you treated this club like a church—the only one you’d go to religiously every Sunday to get fucked within an inch of your life by complete strangers. Strangers you never saw, and would never meet again. 

You didn’t owe them an explanation, but truth be told, you felt far safer here than in most other places you’d been to. Too many close calls and red flags left you running away from that mess. Here, you were spoiled for choice. You could be whoever you wanted to be, without labels or judgment. Fucking was freedom and creativity. Fucking was an expression of yourself. Fucking was a big fuck you to society that tried to break you, moulding you into preconceived roles, telling you what you should or shouldn’t do.

Despite that, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Your PrEP shot was up to date and you tested frequently. Nothing was a hundred percent foolproof, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You were nearly there, following the invisible wisp of a white rabbit to its lair as the sweet, musky scent of lust and arousal grew stronger.

At the entrance of the darkroom, you paused, lifting your hand as a breeze sifted through your fingers. Funny how cold it could get down in the basement. You wondered if the ghosts of soldiers past could see you now—heart racing in your chest, adrenaline flooding your veins, and butterflies in your stomach—every single time without fail as you stood in front of the innocuous opening in the wall, like a gateway or barrier to another plane. What they would think as you stepped inside, agreeing to the unspoken code of conduct, where it was hunting season, and just like everyone else, you were game.

Inside, it was pitch black, so dark that you could not see, but you could make out the distinct sounds of sheets rustling, the shifting of bodies, light moans, and squelching wet kisses as you felt around the room, slowly putting one foot forward, and then the other, like the blind leading the blind. As your eyes adjusted to the surroundings, movements blurred at the corners, amorphous shapes materializing before you like a séance you had conducted. 

Sometimes you would catch a look, a nod, a gesture—silent, yet reminding you that what you were seeing was real. Hands passed along your body, and you imagined this must be what it feels like to traverse through clouds—touching, groping, feeling every part of you that you had bared to offer. Shedding clothes like this was so easy, like peeling away the layers of skin you had adorned to protect yourself. 

Someone else’s skin. 

Someone else’s face. 

A thousand masks you reaped and sowed.

Gone, all gone—until you were stripped to the core. 

The immense desire to be naked forever and never dressed again bubbled to the surface, burning a hole in your chest and getting caught in your throat.

A sudden smack against the cheek of your ass sent you reeling forward. The beds were damp as you sank upon them on your knees, gasping in sheer delight. The sting of it was buzzing, your ears filled with white noise as your hair was yanked backwards, mouths latching onto flesh, sensitive and bruising like ripened plum under teeth.

The room was warm and humid, sweltering even, but you couldn’t complain. Heat like that never looked bad on anyone. Sweat dripped from the pores of your skin, creating a thin layer of moonlit sheen. Tongues lapped at the moisture, prickly and salty, running over areas you never knew existed until the heady rushes you felt stated otherwise.

You grasped at the silhouette lying under you. It squirmed—wet, whining, and wanting. Breasts quivering, breathing in deep. Almost instantly, the grip on your hair loosened as you lunged forward, suctioning your lips over a peak, your fingers sliding through her folds, curling against her walls. 

Eventually, you were pushed on top of her, a heavy palm on the arch of your back, ribs crushing, tongues intertwining, and teeth clashing as other hands gripped her wrists firmly over her head. Your pelvises ground together as someone pounded into you from behind; her breasts bouncing violently against your chest with each thrust. The mattress sagged under your weight as it consumed you—suffocating, drowning—and you surrendered to it all in the darkness until you were nothing. A blank canvas, equal to the rest, finally seen as simply human.

You did the devil’s dance, flitting between partners, just as your parents did before you, and their parents—your grandparents—and their ancestors before them. Though instead of fucking raw, they had their own versions of the dance that they were too embarrassed to admit, leaving them forgotten behind closed doors and repressed memories.

Then, another pair of hands descended on your back, their knuckles caressing your shoulders with a bittersweet tenderness, taking you by surprise. Brushing your hair aside, you felt stubble scrape the nape of your neck, his kiss lingering a little longer than a second or two, as if afraid that by confronting you, you might dissolve between his fingers. 

Hot, shaky breath fanned across your ear, “May I?”

A baritone—rich, deep, and weary—with an edge to it like he had been through a never ending war. You wondered why.

In silence, you tilted your head, granting him easier access to your neck. You were his prey; he could bite in hard if he wanted to, but he only nipped—teasingly, playfully, savoring your taste, his large, coarse hands raking your body, gentle and unsure.

This wasn’t his first time; he was too composed for that. You searched for an answer as the tips of his fingers pressed dimples into your skin—temporary marks that spoke of his desire to make you his for the night. His touch ached so badly with longing, you could feel it seep into your bones. It hurt, everything hurt, as he buried his face into your neck, smothering the rest of his emotions along with it.

Someone once said, “The biggest lie we tell ourselves is that we should be ashamed of our feelings.”

But imagine if we weren’t? Your hand cupped over his. His breath hitched.

You knew shame like the back of your hand. A sickness and disease, taking root from within, its poisonous tendrils spreading out through every orifice until you couldn’t even scream.

Imagine if we weren’t. Your fingers laced through his. You squeezed. He squeezed back.

A secret morse code between the two of you as others started to gather around. Lying on your sides, he tugged you in closer, so that your back was flush against his chest. You stroked his arm, repeating the motion in cycles like a form of meditation.

He had you. You were his. He didn’t have to worry about that, even when you were being shared.

In return, he planted soft kisses along your spine as a ‘thank you’, causing you to shiver while he palmed your crotch. You felt his dick harden against the crevasse of your ass and you bucked your hips back into his. He let out a hiss, rubbing his erection in sync with your rocking, and you heard the sound of a lid cracking open.

At the same time, another person tweaked your nipples, licking, and sucking on them as you bit your lip and moaned. Lukewarm oil spilled onto your ass in a slow, deliberate stream, spreading like liquid silk. Even though you were ready—so ready—for this, with your hole wide and gaping from the butt plug you had worn in the day, and still leaking from previous use, he felt the need to prepare you. Circling your rim, he slipped one, then two fingers in, allowing the tight ring of muscle to clench around them as he stretched you out. When he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, you nearly sighed in relief, relaxing as he filled you up fully, slowly, and sensually, as if you were making love for the first time.

You melted like sweet, flowing honey in his arms, linked around your waist, hugging you tightly as his ragged breath grazed your cheek. Once you had settled in, it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace. Your hands gripped his the entire time as he pumped his cock harder into you, friction firing up the bundle of nerves, causing you to cry out in wanton pleasure. 

It was only a matter of time before you caught a glimpse of another shadow joining from behind him, and felt the head of someone else’s member smear precum along your lips. You opened, submitting completely to the moment, its shaft dipping in and out of your mouth, your tongue swirling over its slit and ridge. Saliva dribbled down your chin as fingers tangled in your hair, grabbing it roughly to shove his cock in further, letting it hit the back of your throat as you choked and gagged. Tears ran down your face, ruining the black liner and glitter you’d decorated it with.

The hands that had been wrapped around yours gave them a long, hard squeeze, as if to ask, “Are you okay?” His worry and concern was your very own personal S.O.S., if you needed it. You brushed your thumb against his knuckles reassuringly, and he did the same, giving you two light squeezes in response, trusting in your decision.

At this, his hips snapped against your ass harshly, balls slapping skin as his thrusts grew more desperate, matching the intensity with which you were being fucked in the mouth, like a wordless competition—one vying for your affection. He slammed into your sensitive spot repeatedly, the sensations overwhelming like never before as your eyes rolled back—demonic and possessed—and euphoric waves rippled through your body.

He continued railing you until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. You felt his eyes shut, his mouth twist into a frown as he muffled his groans into your neck. He tensed and staggered, emptying a thick, hot load into your spent hole, just as the person in front of you pulled out, finishing himself off onto your face.

You coughed, sputtering as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. His dick was still in you, twitching as he rode out his climax, stroking your thighs, your hips, your ribs, before settling back on the curve of your ass. He kneaded it gently as you felt him pull out; his hands coming to rest around your waist. Raising your arms behind you, you circled them around the back of his head, pushing his face into your hair as both of you lay there—still and quiet—panting heavily and covered in fluids, his cum trickling out of your heat. You felt the uneven, taut patches that littered his skin, along with the rise and fall of each other’s chests—an empty space in the cavity growing more deafening with each passing second in the sparse room.

The clock continued ticking until you finally decided to turn around, facing the man who had fucked you so hard you thought you might break. All at once, he drew closer, lips on lips, kissing you like he meant it. You kissed back sloppily, running your fingers through his sweat-drenched hair as he cupped your cheek—grasping, craving, needing more. 

You didn’t know what to make of this connection he and you felt. The way his heart beat with loneliness, and yours responding in kind, whispering in a similar rhythm, “I’m here. I see you.” It was far more intimate than any experience you’d ever had in a darkroom. And you panicked.

Breaking away, you spotted a tuft of his matted blonde tresses, his sharp, brilliant blues, and your eyes darted towards the way out. Before he could speak, you got up, his hand catching your wrist, tugging, pulling—please, I want you, don’t go, please—until you snatched it back, and he let you.

You touched his face, thumb brushing across his bottom lip—swollen and weeping, a final ‘thank you’ for something special the two of you had shared. One where you lied to yourself, treating it as a mere passing moment in your life, fearing that anything more would ruin the illusion held together by anonymity. Picking your clothes up from the floor, you slipped off into the light and safety of crowds, ignoring the pang in your chest as the distance between you and him grew.

━━━━━━━━━━━

What if things had gone differently? 

What if you had let him talk? 

Say the words he wanted to say. Rip his chest open. Pour his heart out into your awaiting cup.

What if it was meant to be more?

What if, what if, all the what ifs.

You sat on your chair, legs crossed and pulled into your chest, thinking back to that encounter over and over again. A cheap desk fan blew hot, desert wind in your direction, its plastic blades rotating sluggishly, hardly helping in the current heatwave. Clumps of hair stuck to your forehead and the sides of your face as you closed your eyes, reminiscing his ghostly touch along your body, sore and aching, fighting fire with fire.

Five nights had passed, and you couldn’t get him out of your mind. It was three in the morning, you had work in a few hours, but he was all you could think about. During the day, you walked around in a vacant daze, and now, you were stoned, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell happened.

You fucked yourself with your fingers, imagining it was him fucking you. 

And then, Sunday came.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You saw him everywhere that night—through the tide of music, in the mirrored reflections, blonde locks catching the light, only to be let down. You didn’t know what he looked like, the only memory being a static cloud of darkness before your eyes, but somehow, you knew that you would be able to tell if it was him.

Like a moth to a flame, you made your way towards the darkroom, all the while hopelessly wondering if he would be there where you had found him last, waiting patiently, like a dog to its owner for their return. When you entered, a swarm of hands skimmed along your private parts—foreign and alien as you swallowed your disappointment, losing yourself in others’ company, though you had never felt more alone.

One more.

Another.

The next—

You’d recognize that touch anywhere. His calloused hands across your jaw—tentative, tracing your skin like scorched earth, his yearning fulfilled when you took his fingers into your mouth, coating them with your taste.

“It’s you…” he murmured, his velvety voice, laden with emotion, slipping into your ear, causing you to shudder.

His fingers slid out over the dip of your tongue as he replaced them with his lips, devouring yours fervently as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Knowing him was like a crime, but you gave yourself the permission to want him this way.

A jarring flash of light blinded you, followed by a burst of giggles, rudely interrupting your chance meeting. You whipped your head in its direction, shielding your eyes as you squinted at white powder vibrating on illuminated phone screens.

“Take your fucking drugs somewhere else!” someone yelled.

By the time you turned back, the light went out again, plunging you into utter darkness. 

Did you lose your power of anonymity?

Had he seen you for who you were now?

Would he judge you like the rest?

You felt his hand in yours, light brushes against your inner palm in the secret language you shared. No, this wasn’t the right place for what you wanted, and you had to respect that—both of that.

Fuck feeling ashamed of your feelings. 

You threw out your inhibitions, dragging him through the opening as he followed you into the light. You saw him clearly now, just as he saw you. Scars of all shapes and sizes across his body, matching the bumps you had felt in the dark—now laid bare and vulnerable in full public view.

You didn’t care, and he didn’t seem to either, clasping your face between his hands as he pushed you back, mouth squarely on yours, teasing it open. He hoisted your legs, hooking them around his waist as he buried his cock into you. Fucking you relentlessly against the wall, rugged concrete chafing skin as you jerked upwards, meeting his thrusts. 

It was rushed, frantic, and hungry, like you would vanish before his very eyes at any minute. A new DJ set had started, drowning out your screams as you dug your nails into his shoulders, clawing angry, red marks into his skin. Trembling, feverish lips wet on your chest, sucking and leaving bites in flesh as others watched, or masturbated while they watched—voyeurs to your private scene.

You clung to each other, his grip bruising on the back of your thighs, not wanting to let go—not this time, not now, not ever. Funny how you found it comforting—the way he held your gaze, unflinching and calm, as you reached your high, like he was seeing right through you—melting flesh from bone, prying the cavern open to find a scared little rabbit, and the rage frothing at your teeth.

And you knew that he understood that feeling too.

He came in you soon after, muscles clenching as he pinned you to the wall, ropes of his release filling you deep. His breath escaped in loud rasps, stray strands of his bangs fluttering in the breeze.

“God… fuck…” he gasped, before his eyes found yours again, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile as he laughed.

You laughed back.

He set you down on the floor—your legs wobbly, gaze shy—exchanging soft caresses, oblivious to the rest of the world around you. You leaned in, kissing him spontaneously as you felt his smile against your lips.

“So, you got a name?”

“Mm-hmm.” He kissed you once more, exhaling it like a sigh—“Leon.”

And you didn’t feel like the magic was lost in any way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

Fyi, I created a playlist for Darkroom in case you want to check it out. All songs are from The xx and their music contributed a lot to the mood of this piece!

I also saw Timimie Märak, a poet, feminist, and Sámi queer activist, at a literary festival recently, and I really liked what they said: “The biggest lie we tell ourselves is that we should be ashamed of our feelings,” which has appeared in my fic above.

[demonmarker]

Beautiful with you

Regina x Reader (Masc. Lesbian)

Chapter 1

Regina George. The Queen B of North Shore High, known for her dominance and the fact that anything she does is always for her self-gain, and you have absolutely nothing to do with her. Never had, never will, so you thought.

Like any other day you sat by yourself in the cafeteria at lunch, drawing in your sketchbook like you always did with your Doc Martin feet kicked up on the table, earbuds in with Bad Omens playing in your ear as you work on your latest idea for a new tattoo on the back of your neck when at the corner of your eye you see movement and… pink? You glance in the direction of the movement and see none other than THE Regina George clicking her fingers at you to get your attention. You had a small hallway crush on Regina. But who doesn't? You even have a realism drawing of her in your sketchbook, but you didn’t bother drooling over her or even bother trying to talk to her. You tried doing the whole friends thing when you were a kid and you were always left crying and humiliated, so it was a loner life for you and your sketchbook was the only friend you needed. Curiosity getting the best of you, you pulled out one of your ear buds showing she got your attention, “Regina” your voice low and husky since you never really talked much at school. “Oh my god finally,” your eyes narrow, not impressed by her opening line. “Come sit with us”, waving a beaconing hand. You lift one of your eyebrows up in suspicion, “Me? The tattooed lesbian loner freak? Sitting at the Plastics table? With the most popular and beautiful girls in the whole school? Yeah, I can see a red flag when I see it so… I’m going to pass.” Regina stuck her chest out proudly with a matching smile, “You think I’m beautiful?” You rolled your eyes and put your earbud back in your ear signalling that that was the end of their conversation. At the corner of your eye you see Regina get out of her seat and walk off, guessing you did the trick, no way was she really wanting to hang with you, like every other time it would probably have ended in a cruel prank that everyone but you found hilarious. Without warning your sketchbook was ripped out of your hands by the familiar blond using your book to swat your feet off the table, sitting where they once were. “Hey! What the fuck?!” Regina just held up her hand to silence you, and it. Fucking. Worked. The abruptness took you off guard. Queen B started flipping through your drawings, your cheeks going red knowing that the drawing you did of her is in there. “Hey, that’s private!” you tried snatching your art diary back but she was quicker, moving it out of your reach. “I don’t know why, these are surprisingly good. I was expecting stick figures at best, look you even coloured inside the lines.” Ignoring the insult your leg starts anxiously bobbing up and down rapidly from the anticipation of her discovering the drawing of herself, in that moment you’d rather defuse a bomb. Flicking another page Regina stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening and her mouth agape. The feeling of being so helpless to stop the inevitable made your anger rise, flashbacks of people laughing and humiliating you start running through your head. It wasn’t fair! This keeps happening again and again. Your anger gets the better of you and you abruptly get up from the table and storm off.

Getting to your locker, you attempt to enter the code into the lock but of course in you fit of rage you missed a number and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as you smash your fist into the metal door “Fuck!”, removing your bloody fist from the now red dent in the locker door, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you feel a migraine coming on. “My god, you are such a drama queen!” the familiar voice of the cause of your anger exclaimed from behind. Your head snaps to see the blond beauty again, her eyes go to the bloody fist print you dented into your locker “Got it all out?” her eyebrows raised, seeing the blood, her eyes darted to your bloody knuckles hanging by your side. She gave an exaggerated sigh and grabbed you by the sleeve of your dark red leather jacket, “Come with me”, not like you had an option.

Pulling you out to the car park and to her red jeep she opened the passenger door and then the glove box grabbing a small first aid kit out, she held her hand out for your injured one and all you could do was watch in stunned silence as this woman–who everyone saw as the Queen Bitch herself–delicately cleaned and bandaged your injury. She glanced up at your confused expression “Stop looking at me like that you dork.” Being called out made your cheeks go red, instantly reacting you let out a “Sorry” like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “Wait, why am I apologizing? You started this, give me back my sketchbook!” tying the bandage’s knot she raised her hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to chuck a hissy fit and punch your locker now did I dummy? Say please and I’ll give you the sketchbook,” she grinned. Your eyebrows scrunched “No!” you snapped back. Lifting an eyebrow with a mischievous grin, she took a step closer to you while pulling your face down to hers, your faces barely inches apart, “Say. Please.” Your cheeks went beat red, being so close to the beautiful goddess you could smell her perfume and feel her breath on your face, all making you want to give into her, the want to obey your submissive side was almost overwhelming, “P-please”. Her grin grew, her hand still holding your collar pulled you the rest of the way to her lips. Those lips. Those soft, plump, intoxicating lips. You completely lose yourself, never wanting the kiss to end. She wraps her arm around your neck, her hand gently caressing the back of your head under your tied up black hair where your undercut is shaved almost to the skin. When you let a moan escape your throat you feel her something flat being pushed against your chest which you instinctively grab blindly. Pulling back, Regina ended the kiss by pulling on your lower lip with her teeth which you automatically moaned to. She put her forehead against yours reaching up she wipes her lipstick from your lips, softly whispering to your lips “Good girl”.

When you come down from cloud nine you see her already walking back to the main school building, Fuck, what just happened? You look down to the object in your hands and find your sketchbook with one page dog eared. You turn to the marked page which was the drawing of Regina, a message written in the open space of the page “You're kinda hot, come to my place after school today. Meet me by my car.” You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, Regina George just kissed you! And she wants to meet up with you again! The rational side of your brain kicked in and made you question if this was all some sort of trick, telling you to keep your walls up, scenarios like this don’t happen to loners like you. It’s not like you could hang out after school anyway.

Trying to get through all the scattering people at the end of school was always a nightmare but you manage to make your way to Regina’s jeep, the blond standing against the bright red car in waiting. Seeing you approach she straightens up “Hey Loser, you ready to go?” you roll your eyes at the nickname. “I’m sorry I can’t today.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And why not?” “I-“ you start but you hesitate, you look off into the distance as you argue with yourself whether to tell her the truth and let her in, no one knows what really goes on in your life and you liked that way it kept everyone safe. Or should you just brush it off and leave it at that? You release a sigh, “Would you be up to letting me show you?” Regina narrowed her eyes wondering if she should trust you or not “You’re not going to take me to some creepy warehouse and murder me are you? The pretty blond always dies first and you got the whole broody, loner killer vibe going on” she gestured to your whole person. You roll your eyes “Do you want to or not?” Chucking her hands up in defeat “Argh fine”, she walked to the passenger side of her car as you got in the drivers. Once comfortable you get a confused look on your face as you look at the dash, Regina looking at you with her own look of confusion, “Remind me again which one is the brake and which one is the accelerator”

The look of disbelief she gave you was priceless, “You can’t be serious” You cackle from her reaction, “I’m joking” you continue to laugh as she slaps your arm, already feeling at ease around her. “Don’t worry I’ve got my full license, your baby is safe with me.” “She fucking better be” she mumbled.

Ch.02 Ch.03

[rems-writing]

When the mountain meets a shy girl

》 Pairing: stripper!San x afab!reader

》 Trope: strangers to lovers

》 Wordcount: 4,062 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“Oh come on, Y/N! It’s literally one night!”

“Guys, I don’t know -”

“Omg just ignore her and drag her along! We’re going to be late!”

This is how you found yourself on a Friday night. You got off work but instead of going straight home, your lovely coworkers pressured you into going out with them. They claimed that you needed to ‘live a little’ since you can’t ‘be a miserable hobbit’ your entire life. They say that like it’s a bad thing! If you want to stay home, you will stay home. If you want to go out, you will go out on your own free will. Alas, your coworkers didn’t understand. Or they did. They just didn’t care about your boundaries nor your personal preferences, especially the leader of the extroverts. 

Her name was Chelsea. 

You honestly didn’t know how she was able to get hired. She doesn’t know anything about the company you both work at, she slacks off most of the time, and almost always engages in the freshest office gossip. She speaks like she’s texting someone, has an annoying giggle whenever a man hits on her, and never follows the dress code. 

At least she takes responsibility for her fuck-ups and picks up the slack. And never throws you under the bus for anything. 

Other than that, she was dumb as a rock. 

You steered clear of her radar every day. You only talk to her, along with others, about work related things. The only time you don’t is when you give her the usual formal greetings. Other than that, you were never her concern. 

Until today. 

You honestly wished people would leave you alone. Why were they talking about you? You never did anything to them, didn’t snitch on them when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, and you were polite when you needed to be. So what’s with the sudden interest in you? 

You were 24, lived alone (aside from the many figurines you owned. They were your children), and only went out if it was required. Other than that, you preferred to stay home. You weren’t interested in dating nor sex (you’ve been there, done that way back in high school) so you tended to stay away from men since they honestly scared you.

A lot. 

If you wanted pleasure, you either took care of it yourself or you just left it alone. You didn't need anyone else to take care of it for you. But now back to the topic at hand. 

You were trying to figure out ways to excuse yourself from this outing. The last place you wanted to go was a damn strip club. You didn’t need half naked to almost fully naked men thrusting and grinding in your face. And you certainly weren’t about to waste your precious hard earned dollar bills on someone else. It’s not that you were selfish or greedy. 

You were simply frugal. 

And according to Chelsea and your coworkers, that’s ‘super hella lame’ of you to do. 

What were they? Newly oriented high school freshmen? 

Alas, you couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this ‘extraordinary adventure’ you were on. As you neared the entrance of the strip club, everyone had to go through an ID check. Some of them complained, but you didn’t mind. Rules are rules after all. When the bouncer landed on you, you felt intimidated by the sharpness of his wolf eyes. You shakily handed your ID to him and you were ready to be scrutinized by him. You were used to being mocked by bouncers whenever you went to clubs or high-end bars with your coworkers or your family members (i.e. cousins). Surprisingly, nothing came out of the bouncer’s mouth. Instead, he gave you back your ID and offered a warm and comforting smile that reached his eyes until they formed crescents. He then leaned in and whispered in your ear. 

“If you need to find a way out, have the bartender page me. I’m sorry you were dragged out here by those… uh… lovely ladies.”

His deep and husky voice sent a small shiver down your spine and you couldn’t help but be flattered with the offer he gave you. You nodded rapidly and thanked him quietly before following the rest of the girls inside. At least someone understood how you felt, even if they were a complete stranger. When you got inside, the host led you to your table. You wanted to sit at the far end of the booth so you could make your escape (you were not about to turn down the hot bouncer’s offer), but your request fell on deaf ears. Instead, you were smack in the middle of your group with Chelsea seated to your left and someone else on your right. As soon as you were settled in, a waiter approached you. He seemed young and you couldn’t help but find his round cheeks so adorable. 

“Hello. Welcome to Cyberpunk. My name is Jongho. I’ll be taking your orders tonight. What can I get started for you?” 

“IS IT STILL GOLDEN HOUR RIGHT NOW?!”

An overly excited coworker screeched right into Jongho’s ear and you felt yourself cringe for him. Apparently, Golden Hour is what they call happy hour here. Good to know. Jongho laughed awkwardly and nodded before presenting the menu for Golden Hour. That same coworker practically clawed it out of his hands and thanked him shamelessly by running her manicured hand down his chest. You couldn’t stand it and reached over to grab her wrist. 

“Leave the poor guy alone!”

Your angry hiss made your coworker shrink into herself but still had the audacity to roll her eyes at your sense of duty. As payback, she ordered drinks for everyone else but made sure to save the strongest drink for you. And she said this out loud. You sighed and sat back with your arms crossed while Jongho nodded and wrote the order down. Before he left, he looked at you with a grateful expression and mouthed something to you. You were confused at first, but then you looked in the direction of where the young waiter was nodding at and you saw the hot bouncer waving at you with his heavily ringed hand. 

Oh. 

Jongho was giving you the name of the hot bouncer that offered you an escape earlier. 

His name is Mingi. Got it. 

You made a mental note to remember that, along with the name of the bartender you needed to page Mingi for. 

His name is Wooyoung. Got it. 

After Jongho walked away to fulfill your order, you observed your surroundings while your coworkers were talking amongst themselves. It’s a shame that they didn’t talk to you, but you didn’t care. It was better this way. 

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

Drink after drink. Shot after shot. And the cycle repeats. Your coworkers were astonished with the way you could handle your liquor. Even that nasty cocktail that you received made you feel nothing. If anything, you were only about five percent tipsy. As the night progressed, a lot of strippers made their way towards your booth and did what they needed to do. You weren’t interested in any of them. At all. You just wanted this night to be over. While the girls were fawning over the tallest stripper giving them lap dances (his name is Yunho), you saw Chelsea approach you with an evil look in her eyes and a mischievious grin on her overly painted lips. Before you could even question her intentions, she dragged you out of the booth and into a private dance room. The last words from your coworkers left you mortified. 

“YAS, QUEEN! GET THAT DICK, SIS!”

This was not happening. You refused to believe it. Not only did they pay for you to experience a private dance with one of those greasy oiled up men, but they truly believed that you needed this. As Chelsea sat you down on the plush lavender couch, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. Although, you couldn’t tell since her fake lashes were too thick to comprehend anything. 

“We all chipped in for this dance. It could’ve been one of us, but we decided that you needed it the most. So like… don’t be yourself and weird him out, ok sweetie? Great! Have fun! Oh and provide us with juicy details once you’re done!”

She patted your head before exiting the room. You wanted to cry. You never asked for this. For any of this! You just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch reruns of your favorite k-dramas. But nope! You were here in a dimly lit room, anticipating who would come out. As the strange techno music played, you saw a figure approach the pole. Your eyes widened as you saw who it was. 

The Mountain. 

His seductive smile and the way he curled his fingers around the pole did nothing to quell your anxiety. You sat up straight and darted your eyes around towards every movement he pulled. Sure, you found him extremely fucking attractive, but you had to be honest with yourself. With the way you are and with the way you wanted nothing more than to escape, you wanted to shrink into the couch you were sitting on and just fade into non-existence. He noticed it at first but thought nothing of it. He believed that your shyness was just an act. Soon, you’ll pounce on him and beg for him to take you. That’s how it always was with women like you. However, he was in for a shocking awakening when he slid down the pole and tore away his shirt, leaving his muscular upper body bare. As he crawled towards you, he was getting closer to your legs, which you shut tightly. It didn’t last long before his strong hands grabbed your knees and forced them open. You shut your eyes when his nose touched the side of your right knee, almost nuzzling it in a way. He soon dragged it upwards before stopping just at the hem of your pencil skirt. He then stood up fully and looked down at you. 

This is where the hesitation began. 

He looked down at your rigid form and the way you screwed your eyes shut. His gut told him to stop, but he pushed through. He bent down and whispered huskily in your ear. The action had you open your eyes wide and look straight at him, which was a mistake since he was so close to your face.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on. Touch me.”

Not waiting for your response, he gingerly grabbed your wrist and made sure your palm was flat against his broad chest. He kept eye contact with you as he slowly slid your hand down to his abs. The pace was snail-like and you found yourself shaking. Your anxiety was at an all time high. When you felt your wrist stop at the hem of his jeans, your eyes widened even more. You retracted your hand and cradled it like he had broken it. You muttered so many apologies as you curled into yourself even more. 

Oh… he felt his heart break at the sight. 

A sigh left his lips as he turned around and walked away. You were panicking internally, thinking the worst. What if he had Mingi kick you out? What if he told the owner of this strip club to blacklist you? What if he snitched on you to your friends and sneered at the way you trembled before him? And not in a good way. The anxiety died down a bit when the lights came on and you saw him walk back to you. He knelt before you and had an unreadable expression on his face. He then stuck out his hand and spoke in an authoritative voice. 

“Let me see your ID.”

You immediately thought to yourself that he was simply following protocol. However, it didn’t help that his seemingly angry look unnerved you. You dug into your pocket and fished out your ID before slapping it into his waiting palm. He held it up to his face and narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the details of it. 

‘It doesn’t look fake right?’

‘It’s as real as it can get.’

‘You probably should’ve brought your passport just in case.’

‘Oh shit he’s looking back at you! Fuck!’

As he gave you back your ID, he helped you stand up. The look on his face melted into one of concern and compassion. He gingerly grabbed your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Can I hug you? I understand if you don’t want to be touched, but I can tell you need it.”

That’s all it took for you to break down in his arms. He shushed you gently and made sure his hold on you was tight enough to provide a sense of comfort for you. He walked the both of you towards the couch and held onto you until you decided to pull away. You looked up at him and sniffled. As much as he found that action to be utterly cute, he knew it wasn’t the time to address that. He gently wiped away your tears and put some distance in between you two. However, he still had his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t mind it of course. You were just glad someone empathized with you. 

“I’m guessing this is just your personality. Your ID checks out and from what you’re wearing, you definitely are of age.”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if this is how you’re spending your night. I’m s-sure you weren’t expecting someone like me.”

“It’s ok. I think this is a good change of pace. If it helps, we can simply talk. I know you don’t want to be here and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok. And yeah… I would love to talk.”

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. I’m San.”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your light-hearted giggle made his heart soar and soon, he found himself in a deep conversation with you. You two talked about everything. From the basics down to you willingly explaining how your current personality came to be. And San listened tentatively. After talking some more, you checked the time. 

“Oh shit! My two hours are up! I’m sorry for holding you here longer than I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Really?”

San nodded and gave you an award winning smile. One that showcased his dimples and was similar to Mingi’s but brighter. After the both of you stood up, he gathered his things and stared at you affectionately. His gaze made you blush and you looked away. He gently grabbed your chin so he could look at you. 

“If you want, there’s a ramen place next door that’s open 24/7. Once this place closes up, we can chat some more. Or… I can take you home, either by calling an uber for you or driving you home myself. After what you told me, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with your coworkers.”

You swore you fell in love with him.

“Actually, I would love that. I sort of need something to absorb all the alcohol that’s in my body.”

“Great! In the meantime, go speak with Hongjoong. He’s the owner of this place. Explain your situation with him and he’ll let you stay in his office for the time being. I still have work to do.”

After accepting his offer, he walked you towards his boss’s office. A short man came out and he was immediately about to interrogate you when you held your hands up in defense. The last thing he needed was to file a case for harassment. As you explained yourself, his form grew less rigid and he looked towards San, who gave a nod of confirmation, indicating that you were speaking the truth. 

“Oh, darling… here. You can stay in my office. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll have Mingi fetch you once this is over.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Please. Call me Hongjoong.”

You nodded shyly and Hongjoong patted your head before walking out of his office so you could get comfortable. San looked at you one last time before leaving to continue his job. He didn’t want to leave you there alone, but he knew you needed space to breathe and gather your bearings. After all, you went through a lot. 

TIME SKIP

It had been some time since that horrible outing with your coworkers. Sure, you met some angels and your savior along the way, but the events leading up to that moment left you drained. After that night, you didn’t speak with Chelsea or any of your coworkers. Instead, you worked faster and more diligently than before so you could clock out early and go home immediately. You did not want to interact with any of them whatsoever. As soon as you reached home, you flopped on the couch. 

“Aww. You didn’t want to greet me? That makes me sad.”

“Shut up, San!”

San giggled at your sassy voice as he walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He lifted your head so you could lay on his lap. As he ran his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, you talked about how your day went. 

Did I mention that you two were roommates now?

Ever since you met San, he’s been a comforting presence in your life. You asked him to move in with you since you felt at ease with him. One thing led to another and the two of you were now a couple. It was awkward at first since you haven’t dated anyone in the longest, but San was patient with you. He took things at your own pace and made it less awkward. He still works at the strip club unfortunately, but he reassures you that he will always come back to you since you have his heart. 

“As I motherfucking should!”

That was always your response to him and he could never get tired of it. As the relationship progresses, you slowly find yourself coming out of your shell. You no longer feel overly shy whenever he walks around shirtless or whispers sensual words in your ear as he flirts with you. Instead, you play along and even tease him sometimes. That’s an effect only San can bring unto you. In addition, he taught you how to be more confident and stand up for yourself. 

His hard work paid off when you told him about how you told your boss about how you felt with your coworkers.

You came back into the office feeling nervous yet invigorated. You needed to put a stop to your coworkers peer pressuring you into going out. You also needed to stop caring about what they might say. As San has stated to you despite being only in tight jeans with dollar bills peeking out from the top, if you liked staying in, then stay in. You knocked on the CEO’s front door and heard her honeyed voice telling you to come in. When you entered, your eyes landed on your CEO boss, who was also your long time best friend. “Hey. What’s up, Y/N?” She smiled that beautiful smile and you felt relieved momentarily. “Um… we need to talk, Ms. Hwasa.” 

“I thought I told you to call me by my real name. After all, we have been friends for seven years.”

“Sorry, Hyejin.”

“It’s ok. Anyways, what did you need to talk about?”

It was now or never. 

Slowly but surely, you vented about everything. From your coworkers to Chelsea all the way to the main topic: disrespecting boundaries. You also explained how you were afraid of what she might say despite vowing to always have your back. Of course you didn’t doubt her words. You were simply afraid of her brushing you off like you were nothing more than another employee. When you finished speaking, Hwasa had her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you for telling me this. I honestly didn’t think they would be dumb enough to forget common sense. Set a meeting right now. I think I need to remind these women of how everything works around here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hwasa laughed slightly as you saluted before turning around and marching back to your cubicle. A couple of hours later, a lot of employees were in a meeting room, standing nervously as they watched their CEO pace back and forth whilst looking at them with an unreadable expression. You were in the middle of the crowd, pretending to be nervous, but in reality, you were playing it cool. 

“It seems to me that you guys keep forgetting about the one thing I wanted all of you to have.”

Oop - 

“Common courtesy.”

A lot of your coworkers were sweating nervously, including Chelsea. You felt bad for them a little bit since you know Hwasa to be strict. 

“Just because someone doesn’t like the things that you do after work doesn’t mean you have the right to change their dynamics. We are all different here. And yet, we still work well together. So please. The next time you want to take someone away from their comfort bubble, think twice before doing so. Either do nothing about it or do something about it the right way. Ask first! That’s always a requirement. If they say yes, then there you go. If they say no, then no means no! Do we have an understanding?”

Everyone nodded.

“In addition, I am putting a stop to the unnecessary gossip swimming around here. The people you gossip about? They have done nothing to you and they don’t do that to you. So why do it to them in the first place?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one dared to answer. 

“This meeting is adjourned. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Ms, Hwasa!”

Everyone scattered and scurried back to their places. Hwasa looked at you and smiled while you profusely thanked her. 

“You can go home now if you want. I know your boy toy misses you.”

“Girl, shut up!”

“And that’s what happened!”

“I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

San sat you up and hugged you tightly. You returned the hug happily and remained in his arms for a while before he pulled away. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood up from the couch. 

“This calls for a celebration. Time to give you that private dance you originally signed up for.”

Oh…

OH!

Before you could protest, San turned on the stereo system and played the track before standing in the middle of the living room to begin his routine.

‘SHIT! WHY THIS SONG?!’

‘THIS SONG IS A BOP THOUGH!’

‘YEAH BUT NOW LOOK AT THE SITUATION YOU’RE IN!’

‘JUST RELAX, BITCH! DAMN!’

You watched as San performed his routine perfectly. It catered to the song and you found yourself drooling as you leaned in to observe him more. San smirked at this as he jumped and did a diving move before crawling towards you. Your legs were open for him and he came in between them, nuzzling his nose into both of your inner thighs before slowly standing up. He gingerly grabbed your hand and took off his shirt before placing your palm on his broad chest. 

DID HE GET BIGGER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You watched your hand slowly trail down to his abs until your wrist stopped at the top of his sweats. It was then you noticed how low they hung on his hips. You looked back up to see him lean in closer, his eyes dark with lust and desire. His other hand cupped your cheek and he used his thumb to drag your bottom lip down slowly. 

“Can I have you for tonight, kitten?”

You were not about to pass up on the opportunity to ride that dick into the sunset. With a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth, he kissed you passionately before grabbing your waist and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

[sexilene]

can i request a boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader? anything you wanna do with that! thanks youuu!!!

(sorry about any spelling mistakes lol) #yummmmmm!!!! just a little boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader thought ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

messing around with the boy next door is nothing short of amazing, messing around while your parents weren’t home, watching him get all sweaty doing yard work from your window, playing footsies under the table when your family invites the neighborhood for a big ol’ dinner, and, sneaking him in through your window at night just to sleep in each other’s arms…

jj was pretty sure, no, 100% sure that he loved you and felt like a lucky son of bitch to have you even more so because you were so close by. you too would call on the phone when you couldn’t have him climbing through the window at night but sometimes his phone just wouldn’t work or would get shut off due to his dad not paying the bill. at some point, he couldn't rely on technology to communicate with you so he spent one afternoon making a little basket string pulley system that connected both windows. this way you were able to send each other little notes that were mostly just a bunch of i love you’s, horny thoughts, and promises of running away together.

jj had also convinced you to learn the flashlight morse code as well as his own “flashlight code” which sort of heals his inner child, acting like spies that could only communicate through light code.

“two flashes means yes and one means no…flash then stop and then long flash means i’m hard.” he points to the page, gesturing for you to write it down in your notebook to help you remember.

“uh huh…” you don’t even question it and write it down.

there are times when your parents find out you've been “messing around with that no good maybank boy” and ground you, forbidding you to see him, so in times like those you are grateful for your little notes system, sending him lipstick kiss marks, your clothes doused in your perfume or what you call little “treats”.

dear jayjay,

sometimes when i miss you and can’t sneak you in, i put the t-shirt you left here on and dream of you being here with me and re-read your little notes. i know you still have trouble expressing your feelings but i love you anyways

sometimes when i can see your light still on i sit on my bed and play with myself, rub my pussy through my panties thinking of you…wishing it was you, rubbing my clit like you showed me and kissing me.

since im grounded and can’t risk seeing you right now i wanted to give you my panties to help you out with my absence, i wrote your name on them and i came thinking of you (that’s why it's all sticky lol) so it's yours now! i love you jay! ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶!!

and jj very much appreciates the little gift because that night he’s licking and smelling the little watch patch on the fabric like a perv, using them to fist his throbbing hard cock thinking of you.

“fuck- shit baby…smell so fuckin’ good,” he grits through his teeth, eyes closed imagining you bouncing up and down on his cock whining with tears streaming down your face.

“love you s-so much,” jj’s eyes open to look out his window over to watch your silhouette move around in your dimly lit room, he’s grunting out a “fuck fuck fuck!” and fisting his dick faster leading him to spill out globs of hot cum all over your ruined panties.

[theblueflower05]

OH UR IN FOR IT NOW

thoughts: jake sully cockwarming human reader and she keeps squirming around to cum but he’s so much bigger that he can just hold her still while she whines and pouts

(also i know he’s so cocky and condescending with his dirty talk)

Oh oh oh. Fuck yes.

Listen. There is something so sexy about Avatar/Na’vi x Human smut. I don’t care. It’s going to get me going every time, I eat this shit UP.

@hinataashoyos kills this dynamic and if you want to read some absolutely delish Jake content- please give her blog a follow.

And I loveeeeee the idea of Jake and his little human fuck buddy.

Because like. You’re everything he’s attracted to- just his type. You’re petite with killer curves, a rack and ass to die for. The sweet florally perfume you wear makes him dizzy with want and the gloss you have perma swiped across your full lips sparkles in the fluorescent lights of the labs that you can usually be found in.

He eats girls like you up back on Earth. Even in his chair, he knew he was a panty dropper.

Smut under the cut

But you’re different. You’re sharp as a tack and come from a good family back on terra firme. Fancy college degrees under your belt, all paid for by mommy and daddy’s money. A social butterfly. Hell, he bets you’d been a sorority girl. Kappa Kappa Gamma, or some nonsense of that nature.

You’d never go for a disabled ex-military grunt like him- or so he’s convinced himself.

You work in close quarters with the rest of the Science lame brains, are close with Grace and Max.

Xeno-Cultural Anthropologist, he learns your title early one.

You’re here to help crack the code around the Navi- deeply fascinated by their rich culture. Diverse clans, and multilayered language. Besides Grace, you’re about the only RDA human let within 100 miles of Home Tree.

Your accolades and experience, at your young age, are stacked. All of these things should make you a stuck up priss-

And yet you’re not. Not at all.

The more he gets the know you, the worse his interest in you gets.

You’re funny, in a goofy way that doesn’t match your sharp vernacular. Your frequent jokes are vulgar and down right dumb.

And helpful, you never make him feel stupid the way the others do. You’re more then happy to sit down with him after a long day of him being linked out in the Jungle- you’re just about the only reason why he’s finally starting to grasp the language.

And so so sweet. You don’t make him feel useless or infantiled in his chair; you treat him like the capable grown man he is- but make him meals like you do all for all your friends. Help him with his laundry. Bring him electrolyte drinks when he’s half asleep doing his video logs.

A couple months in, and Jakes interest has spawned into a full fledged crush.

When Grace swoops him away fro Quaritch and his influence- you go with. All the way up into the Hallelujah Mountains.

The extra close quarters and isolation just makes it worse.

The pajamas you wear to bed aren’t skimpy or sexy in nature- but damn do you look good in the small shorts and obscure band tee that falls to your knees.

He nearly loses his shit when you bend over one morning, your wide ass on display. The tiny sleep shorts do nothing to cover the plush cheeks and he’s never wanted to dig his teeth into something more.

You act like you didn’t see him discreetly hide his blushing face in his cup of coffee.

The same way that he acts like he doesn’t see you ogling him in Avatar form. You all but drool over the smooth blue skin and endless muscles.

He wonders if that’s the only way you’ll have him, in a body that’s not his.

It had all come to a head pretty soon after that.

At the core of it; the two of you are travelers, stuck on a foreign planet. All it takes is a particularly lonely night; one where some how the two of you had gotten a moment alone, for all of the emotion to bubble up.

You’d ended up in Jakes lap, in his chair. Grinding down onto him, your tongue down his throat as he wrapped his strong tattooed arms around you.

Safe to say you want Jake Sully however you can get him.

It’s a free for all after that and Grace straight up has to tell you guys to cool it down after stumbling upon you and Jake, him in his Avatar form, in the trees just behind the bunkers. His head had been buried between your naked thighs- your face blushing behind your Exo Mask. Grace had not been impressed.

“Between you two and Norm and Trudy, it’s like I’m living in a fucking frat house. Cut it out, before I citation all of you for interpersonal relationships. I swear, we’re supposed to be grown ups here, guys- ever heard of workplace discretion!”

Graces threats are empty, but Jake knows you respect her enough to take em to heart.

So it turns into a game of sorts.

The two of you try to get each other off as often as possible. As fast as possible. As hidden as possible.

All the sneaking around makes him feel like a teenager, alive and exhilarated when he’s in both of his bodies.

But he hates the quickies. He wants the time to worship your body thoroughly.

He jumps at the chance- when Norm rides along with Trudy to take Grace back to Hell’s Gate. She’s a higher up, after all. She has mountain’s of paperwork and reports she needs to do. That’s fine.

That means he gets to be alone with you.

He savors the night. The trailers are a tight fit for his Avatar body, but he pushes the bunk beds to an opposite wall and the two of you make a nest of sorts on the cold metal floor. All the pillows and blankets you can find to cushion yourselves.

You lie next to each other, facing one and other- as you explore each other with slow groping touches in the low light. Only the computer screens left on to illuminate the space.

It’s like neither of you can get enough.

His large calloused hands run along your curves- all that soft supple skin. Your plush breasts and doughy thighs and ass. You feel so good- you truly might be the only soft thing on the rugged planet of Pandora.

Your petite hands are eager too. You trace his arms, his broad shoulders, his tapered waist. Your wide eyes follow the path of your fingers.

“Holy shit, Jake. You’re built like a brick shit house- where did all this muscle come from?”

He chuckles at the awe in your tone. “Trainings been intense- Neytiris been riding my ass lately. I’m up before the sun rises in those trees”

“Remind me to thank her next time I see her” you mutter distractedly as you squeeze at his defined bicep.

It’s insanely good, but then again it always is.

Jake tastes your spit, and you hard little nipples and your dripping cunt. Feasting himself on your skin slowly.

The more orgasms he can wring out of you- the easier it will be for you to take his cock. He needs your body as loose as he can get it.

After what feels like hours getting fucked with his huge fingers, and rough textured tongue, you’re begging for him.

You can take it. You want to be full of him, you whine the words with big teary eyes that you know he can’t refuse.

He fucks into you slow- watching as you take him. Your pussy always looks like she’s going to break. Stretched to it’s limits, lips puffy and enflamed as his cock sinks in. The contrast of his indigo skin and your human flush is fucking hypnotic.

This isn’t the first time he’s fucked you in this body and it won’t be the last.

Every round seems to be better then the last- louder. Wetter. More passionate. You’re full of so much cum, there’s no way that your tiny womb could hold it even if it tried.

Na’vi libidos are something else.

He has stamina that he didn’t even know existed. After round three you’re out, all but asleep in his arms. Limp and ragdoll like in his oversized arms.

“You can keep going” your voice is paper thin and far away. Jakes not sure how you’re even coherent at this point.

He takes you into his lap, gently, but keeping you stuffed full to the brim with his cock.

You whimper and bury your messy face in his huge sweaty chest.

“I just need one more” Jake reassures you, petting your hair, stroking down your back. His hands are large and soothing, it’s so easy for him to touch all of you at once. “You don’t even have to move all that much, baby. Just let me come one more time, yeah?”

You nod, and really it’s just your head lulling in his clavicle. You’d lost the ability to control your muscles hours ago. “Yeah, mhmm”

Jake doesn’t even need to bounce you. Just having your pussy wrapped around him, tighter then anything he’s ever felt, is enough.

You sit on his lap, his cum flowing out of you. Down your thighs. Onto his own groin. And warm his cock.

It’s erotic and intimate and as he holds you close he thinks about Neytiris words. Tsaheylu- the sacred bond. He’s felt it with direhorse- and his ikran. A part of him wishes that he could feel it with you.

When he empties the last of his milky, iridescent cum inside of you and you pull back from his chest enough to give him a small smile, he thinks that no.

This is enough.

I LOVE YOU JAKE MOTHER FUCKING SULLY UGHHHHHHHHH. I swear he fucking remixed the game in the first Avatar. I will never ever ever get over him.

[squoxle]

Can u do a short ff where y/n came from the gym and she’s looking hot as ever. And heeseung is home while he talks to his gamer friends . And when he sees y/n he’s flabbergasted.

Can I? Hmm…I can try😏🖤 (you probably didn't read this b4 you asked. no worries tho...i was itching to start writing for EN- again anyway)

𐙚Heated~L.HS ff 18+𐙚

💋pairing: Heeseung!fwb x Reader!fm | 💋wc: 1.3k | 💋summary: Do I really need to explain this??? basically, you came home after working out, and Heeseung couldn't keep his eyes off your sexy, sweaty body. |💋cw: 🔞MDNI!! unprotected sex, cumshots, fingering, clit stimulation, sexual jokes, pet names [daddy, good girl, baby]=heeseung coded Enjoy :)

"Dammit," you swore as your phone fell out of your pocket. You slid your headphones down to wrap around your neck as you kneeled down to pick up your phone.

"Hey," Jake said as you flipped your phone around, checking for any scratches or cracks. "How was the gym?"

"Ehh nothing too special," you shrugged before lugging your bag over your shoulder. "There was this one guy who kept flirting with me. He even tried giving me his number," you laughed under your breath.

"A guy? Flirting with you? What else did this guy do?" Heeseung spat. It seemed like hearing that pissed him off a bit as his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"It really wasn't all that. I don't know why you're getting upset anyway. We're just friends. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything," You said before taking a sip from your water bottle. It was the kind you can use your teeth to yank open, though that may not be the intended way of doing it.

"How'd you know she went to the gym?" Heeseung asked, looking at the other guys as he took his dark eyes off you.

"Uhh...well if I was an asshole--which I'm not--I would say that anyone with a fucking brain could tell by what she went to the gym just by looking at her," Jay said sarcastically as you stood by the door wearing compression tights and a cropped hoodie that covered your sports bra.

"Yeah, that and she told us before she left an hour ago," Sunghoon added.

"Oh," Heeseung said as he went back to staring at you.

You flashed him a puzzled look as he licked his lips before biting on the lower one as he scanned your body up and down. You couldn't believe the bipolar attitude this boy had at times.

"Yo dude! What the fuck was that?" Jay laughed as he saw the way Heeseung was practically drolling over you. "Don't tell me that she's turning you on that easily," Jay continued as he shook Hee's shoulder. "She's literally like a sister to us."

"More like a step-sister," Sunghoon chuckled. "You can see it all over his face. He wants to fuck her just as badly as that guy at the gym," He smirked before turning to look at you himself. He could see how Heeseung could like the way you looked with your hair stuck to the sides of your face from the sweat. Especially when you took off your hoodie, revealing your breasts that were also decorated with sweat that dripped from your collarbone.

"What?" Heeseung shook his head. The thoughts in his mind caused him to go completely blank.

"Woah! Even his little buddy thinks so," Jake threw his head back laughing. Heeseung looked down to see his hard-on bulging in his sweats, before looking over at you.

"Dude you're freaking her out," Jake continued as he looked over to see your flushed face.

"Uhhh...I'm just gonna go," you said awkwardly as you walked to your room.

"Hey, if I were you I'd just be honest and tell everyone how bad I wanna fuck her," Sunghoon smirked.

"Fuck off, man," Heeseung spat as he left the room following behind you.

"What do you want?" You said as you rummaged through your drawers looking for an outfit to put on after your shower.

“I think you already know,” Heeseung said as he closed the door behind him. The thought of your sweaty body bouncing on his cock was enough to get him started.

“Right now? You’re joking…” you said as you placed the stack of clothes on your bed. You were in no mood to engage in some sexual activity with him right now for two reasons. One, it's literally the middle of the fucking day, and two, the guys are still awake sitting in the living room down the hall.

“How do you expect me to react after seeing your hot sexy body covered in sweat?” he said cocking his head to the side as if you could read the horny thoughts running through his mind.

“Umm, disgusted. Like a normal person,” you folded your arms. You were indirectly trying to hint to him that this wasn't a good time, but by the look on his face you could tell that wasn't working.

“Hmm, well that would probably be the case if we didn’t have our little side thing.”

“Okay, you’re either desperate or stupid if you think we’re gonna have sex right now.”

“What if I’m both?” Heeseung said before reaching down to grip his dick through his pants. “I’m aching for you and I know how bad you want me. You just hate to admit that I’m right,” he continued as he walked up to you, placing a delicate yet sensual kiss on your cheek while holding your chin.

“You’re sick,” you spat ripping away from his grip. “And when you’re horny, you’re a fucking dog,” you said picking up your clothes before walking to the door.

“Ah ah ah~” Heeseung said as he held the door shut with his hand. “You know I always get what I want,” he smiled before kissing your neck.

“I said, not right n—“ you were cut off by Heeseung gripping your ass. His fingers reached through your thighs to your pussy. You perked your ass up to give him a better shot as he rubbed against your pussy through the tight fabric.

“What was that you were saying,” Heeseung smiled before sucking on your neck, biting a bit of your skin hard enough to cause you to let out a small moan.

“What if they hear us?”

“Who cares?” Heeseung said as he pressed his dick against your ass.

“Heeseung,” you sighed.

“Relax, just stay quiet and we should be okay,” he pulled down your tights, exposing your ass to him.

You covered your mouth with your hands as Heeseung glided his dick between your folds before pushing himself in.

“Mmph!” You gasped. Heeseung let out a soft chuckle from behind you as he began pounding into your slimy hole.

He gripped your waist with one of his hands while the other he used to stimulate your clit. You braced yourself against the door that slightly knocked from your movements.

“H-Heeseung! A-ah,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his throbbing cock.

“That’s it baby. Take all of Daddy’s dick like a good girl,” he said pumping into you so hard that you were on your toes at this point.

Just as you reached your climax, Heeseung pulled his dick out of you. “What?” You said turning around to see his dick still twitching.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. “And turn around,” he continued as you dropped down into doggy position.

He didn’t waste time to slam his dick into you, fucking you hard and fast as his thighs slapped against your ass.

“Ah!” You moaned a little too loud.

Heeseung pulled you back, shoving two fingers into your mouth as he kept fucking you. Before you came he shot his cum on your back before getting up to leave the room.

“Wait. Where are you going?” You asked as you pulled your tights back up.

“I’m finished,” he shrugged. “You can go take your shower now. I’m done being a pervert,” he winked before walking down the hall.

“Wh-heeseung?!” You shouted. "Ugh," you huffed, picking up your clothes before walking to the shower.

"What was that all about?" Jay asked as Heeseung plopped down on the sofa next to him.

"Nothing," he smirked. "She's just being dramatic as usual."

"Mhm. Sure," Sunghoon smirked before sitting back.

"Soooo, can we get back to the game now?" Jake asked.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @nikisdubblchococake @hynjinnn1 @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[itaehynz]

SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. — C.YJ

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack, suggestive.

breakdown/summary: yeonjun is sooo seven coded — based off the song ‘seven’ by jungkook, i can no longer contain these thoughts about yeonjun 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i just know he’d be so consistent when it comes to him being in love with someone, like a lovesick puppy!

warnings: profanity, suggestive words, yeonjun is kind of a himbo (?), reader is a bit mean at first but she warms up to him, yeonjun does not give up at all.

yeonjun who is confused at first, as to why you’re not giving him the attention everyone else does? is there something wrong with him, is he ugly? it can’t be that. or maybe you just don’t get the hype of being so obsessed with him? ding ding ding. he’s first thinking to himself, maybe i can attract them with flowers? and that’s when he starts his mission:

getting you and your attention.

yeonjun, who tries to get you within a week’s time, if he can’t get you by saturday, he’ll leave you be… well, he would but he’s way too prideful, he knows he can get you within a week.

—

SUNDAY.

he drops off a bouquet of flowers to your house, thank god you were home at the time. he feels as if he’s already had you wrapped around his finger before you text him.

tloml <3: don’t drop off shit at my house w/o letting me know first. i’m throwing them away + i still don’t want you.

ouch, that was harsh. he thinks to himself, typing a response for your “cruel” response to his offering.

you: y/nnn :( why do you hate me?

tloml <3: i don’t hate you, i just don’t like how you’re trying to throw yourself at me. can’t you take a hint?

you: well for one, i’m not throwing myself at you. it’s just when i want something, i don’t stop until i get it. and two, no, i cannot take a hint especially when it’s coming from you! 😋

tloml <3: yeonjun, please get the fuck off my phone. i gave you my number so you can ask me about the comic you purchased, not so you can send flowers to my home. next time you send something to my house, i’m going to find you and bash your smug face into cement.

you: oh my gosh you said my name 🤭 hearing you say that makes me so happy, you don’t even understand.

tloml <3: i’m not even really saying it…

you: so? i can hear it in my head.

tloml <3: you’re insane, don’t text me again.

he tries sending another message but it doesn’t go through, that’s when he finally realizes what you did. you BLOCKED him. he’s in utter shock. did he go too far? what if you hate him now? he shakes these thoughts away with a swipe of a hand through his hair. i guess i’ll just have to work harder for these next days.

—

MONDAY.

yeonjun decides to bring food and flowers (again) to your job! he sees you from the window of his car, working the front register. your hair is tied up into a ponytail, you’re wearing a beige crew neck with the words “new york” embroidered on it, loose gray sweatpants & old high top converse.

good thing you work in a comic book store.

yeonjun thinks you look absolutely stunning. he leaves his car to approach the store, walking in with his chin held high plus the food and flowers in hand. you hear the bell above the front door ring, looking up to greet the new customer.

“hello! welcome to the eternal comic store, how can i-” you sigh, “what do you want, yeonjun?” you say as he looks at you with a bright smile.

“ohhh you know nothing, just wanted to drop these off for you,” he places the food and flowers on the counter, hoping you’ll atleast take something. you look at him annoyed, not understanding what’s so special about you that he continues to keep trying with you… you’re starting to like it.

“thank you but, can i ask you a question?” he nods. “why do you keep trying to get at me? i already said i don’t like you, was that not enough? do i have to punch you in the face?” you ask, irritation slowly making its way into your tone.

yeonjun raises his eyebrows, not expecting that question but still knowing his answer. “y/n, the first minute i walked in this store i just felt myself gravitating towards you. you have this type of aura, i don’t know how to describe it,” he pauses, resting his head on his chin.

“it’s just like, you’re comforting? yeah that, even though you’ve been nothing but mean to me… i can tell that’s just you having your guard up to protect yourself and i get it. but besides you having a comforting aura, you’re just really pretty and i’d also like to get to know you because you seem cool! and, please do not punch me, i might cry.” he finishes, straightening his lips into a thin line.

you blink, trying to understand everything. you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out, so you just roll your eyes and nod. he watches your expression with the same smile on his face, admiring how nice your eyes are.

“thank you for the food and flowers yeonjun, but please get out of the store,” you finally say, rushing a hand through your hair. he catches the small smile you give him and nods before saying, “alsooo, do you mind unblocking my number? i won’t annoy you but can you please just do it?” he asks with a small pout.

you nod shooing him away and pulling out your phone to do so. he smiles widely, walking away with his hands in his pockets.

even though he annoys you to no end, he’s very consistent and it’s something you slightly admire. just slightly.

—

TUESDAY.

yeonjun comes back to your job with nothing to give except his conversation. he waves at you as he walks in, not caring how you stare at him blankly instead of waving back.

this time he came in with a friend, a friend named soobin apparently. yeonjun must be talking about you to soobin because he keeps glancing over at you behind the counter.

“see, she’s so pretty. doing her job and stuff, normal human things,” he sighs, “why doesn’t she want me?” he looks over at soobin.

soobin rolls his eyes, looking through the manga section. “probably because you’re a pain in the ass? i don’t know though, just a thought.” yeonjun smacks the back of his head, causing it to make a noise which has your head perking up from your phone.

he looks over at you, smiling and waving his hand trying to say it’s nothing, don’t worry which has you rolling your eyes and looking back down at your phone.

his smile fades away as he looks back at soobin, “don’t be a dumbass, i’m not even that annoying to her… yet,” he adds looking over at you once again. “yeah, yet.” soobin mumbles.

“i’m sorry, what was that?” yeonjun asks, which makes soobin shake his head. he nods, snapping his fingers as a way to tell soobin to hurry up.

soobin picks up a manga, walking over to the counter. yeonjun follows behind, smile adorning his face as he approaches you. seeing him from your peripheral, you choose to ignore him and focus on his friend.

“will that be all?” you ask as soobin nods, “okay, that will be 8.36. will you be paying with cash or card?” yeonjun notices how you haven’t said much of a word to him nor have you even gave him his daily dose of mean glares. “card is fine,” soobin says.

you accept his card, swiping it quickly before handing it back. “enjoy your read!” you chirp, giving him a small smile.

yeonjun tells him to go, watching as he walks out. looking back over at you, he pouts, “y/nnn, why haven’t you talked to me?” he quirks his head to the right.

“what is there to talk about? once again, i already said i don’t like you, yeonjun.” you walk out from behind the counter, going over to a bookshelf. he follows you like a lost puppy, pout stuck on his face.

“yes, i get that but you haven’t like me for a while and we still spoke a little. what’s so different now, do you not like me even more today?” he questions, coming closer to you.

you turn around to him and say, “yeah, pretty much.” he stands there, pout gone and jaw on the floor.

“WHAT DID I DO?” he yells, making the few customers turn around. your eyes widen, covering his mouth with your hand. you grab him by his hand, dragging him to the back room, “yeonjun, shut up! do not yell please, i was kidding.” you whisper yell.

“y/n, please let go of my hand before i kiss you,” he says with a blank look on his face.

you look down to see you are in fact, holding his hand. you snatch it away, confused on why you didn’t do so sooner. looking back up at him, you sigh telling him that it’s just best to not yell anymore or else he’ll be banned from the store.

“i thought you’d want me banned from the store?” he asks, genuinely confused. “as much as i’d love to, you and your friends are some of our best paying customers,” you tell him as you walk back to the front.

he follows behind you with a light smirk on his face, “can you please say you enjoy my company already, this fake rudeness is getting a bit old y/n,” he says yawning into his palm.

“get out the store.” you tell him exhausted, rubbing your nose bridge with two fingers. he raises his hands in defense before walking away while saying “byeee y/n, i’ll see you tomorrow,” blowing you a kiss.

“bye yeonjun,” resting your chin in your hand, thinking about the whole thing. is yeonjun starting to grow on you? it seems so.

let’s pray you don’t make it too obvious.

—

WEDNESDAY.

this time, yeonjun doesn’t even come in the store. he doesn’t even text you either, which is a shock to you.

hm, he must have not tried anything today, you sigh, finally some peace and quiet.

well, that’s what you thought. until yeonjun’s friend, soobin comes into the store.

“hi, are you y/n?” he asks carefully. you nod slowly, confused with what’s going on. “yeonjun wanted me to give you this, enjoy your day!” he adds, handing you a small box with an envelope attached to it.

“you too,” you say looking down at the box, confusion gracing your features. what the hell is this, you think to yourself.

you open the envelope first, seeing a letter.

“hi pretty, it’s yeonjun.

today is the worst day of my life, i came down with a fever :( i couldn’t drop you off anything because i didn’t have any energy to reach for my phone, hence why i’m writing a letter!! i hope i’m okay by tomorrow or if not, friday.

i’m really really sorry i couldn’t send you food with this, i’ll try tomorrow if i feel okay. for now, you can just have this. i’ve noticed you have an interest in lotus flowers so, i hope you like this.

love, yeonjun. :)”

you place the letter to the side, opening the small box.

a necklace.

he got you a fucking necklace.

a silver lotus flower necklace, it’s actually beautiful. you take it out, checking if it’s real just for… precautions. you once again don’t know what’s so special about you that yeonjun decided to give you necklace but you’re gonna wear it. you don’t know why but something just feels right about wearing it, is it possible that you may be falling for yeonjun? you’d like to say no but you’re not even sure of your own answer.

-

you spend the rest of the day at home contemplating on whether you should text yeonjun, just to check if he’s okay. not that you really care or anything (you do).

you: hi yeonjun, i got your gift and letter from soobin. thank you for the necklace :) i just wanted to check up on you, see if you’re okay. text me back when you can, love you.

you send the message without hesitation before reading over it but once you do, you regret ever sending it.

you told yeonjun you love him. are you fucking insane?

before you can even finish processing what you’ve done, your eyes are widening in shock. seeing three bubbles pop up meaning that yeonjun is texting back. fuck, what if he doesn’t say it back? no, what if he says it back and doesn’t mean it.

a few minutes pass as your phone pings in alert, a text from yeonjun gracing your notifications. you open it reading,

yeonjun: hi pretty <3 thank you for texting me, i was scared you hated me or something lol

yeonjun: but you’re welcome, it was nothing! you know i love giving you things ☺️ & thank you for checking in, i’m doing a bit better! i had some kimchi soup my friend taehyun made for me, it was really good, i hope you ate something >:(. but yes i’m feeling a bit better so thank you for that! and, i’ll always text back fast if it’s you!

yeonjun: but i’m gonna go back to sleep bcuz junie is sleepy… & i love you too pretty :)

for some reason, you can’t help but feel glad that he’s doing better but… you’re even happier that he said he loves you too.

your stomach is filled with butterflies as you reread the last message over and over again, stuck on the fact that he didn’t even question how early you said the L word.

this is a very unfamiliar feeling, you’re not very fond of it. but you’re going to stop yourself before it gets any worse.

—

THURSDAY.

once again, yeonjun doesn’t show up. but his friend does, it’s a different friend though.

jjun: hi pretty! i’m still a little sick so i’m having my friend drop off some food for you + something extra ;) i hope you enjoy, love you & enjoy your shift!

you: read at 10:07 am.

you feel bad for not responding back but once again, stopping yourself before it gets worse is the only the thing you know.

who you’re assuming is yeonjun’s friend comes in, he has long brown hair and doe eyes. he’s wearing a blue beanie & a plain white short sleeve with grey sweats. he gently smiles at you, waving hello before walking up to the counter.

“this is from yeonjun, which i’m pretty sure you knew already,” he pauses to look around, “oh, he also says that he loves you and he’ll see you tomorrow!” he nods with a smile still on his face. you say thank you before he begins walking out the store, looking down in the bag you notice another small box somewhat the same from yesterday and another envelope.

you open the envelope first once again, reading what yeonjun has written to you.

“helloooo again pretty! i know you’re probably already tired of these letters but it has become a form of communication between us and now i’ll never stop!

i noticed you didn’t respond to my message which made me a little sad but maybe you’re just having a bad day! which is totally okay, i just hope you enjoy this meal and have a good rest of your day at work!

love, yeonjun! :)”

you fold the letter back up, guilt coming back to you as the letter reminds you that you haven’t responded to him.

you know what, fuck this. you’re not responding. don’t let the guilt eat you alive and just carry on with your day, he’ll be fine.

-

you finish up your shift at 6pm. you walk to the back room, punching in your time sheet once again to clock out.

you have your airpods in, music playing before it pauses. siri reads, “incoming facetime call from yeonjun”.

why the hell is he calling you? he must have buttdialed you. you let it ring, waiting for it to hang up by itself but when it does, he calls you again.

growing agitated, you take your phone out of your pocket and decide to pick up.

“what do you want yeonjun? why are you calling me?” is the first thing you ask as his face pops up on the screen.

he has a pout on his face and his eyes are narrowed “why haven’t you texted me y/n,” he sniffles slightly. “do you fucking hate me?” he asks, you start growing regretful of the decision you made as you hear how upset he sounds.

“what?” is all you can seem to say right now, which leaves him baffled.

“that’s all you’re gonna say?” he asks, venom lacing his tone for the first time in a while.

“yes, goodbye yeonjun.” you say before hanging up abruptly, leaving yeonjun shocked on the other end.

tomorrow, yeonjun’s definitely going to give you an earful.

—

FRIDAY.

today, yeonjun finally comes in. you sigh heavily, already knowing what’s about to come. you’re ready for him to talk your ear off but you weren’t ready for what he came in wearing.

he’s wearing a black wifebeater with a gray hoodie over it, black sweatpants and black converse. his long black hair is slightly disheveled from all the times he’s ran his hands through it. his plump lips, covered in moisturizer as they shine from the store lighting. makes you wonder what his lips would look like covered in your slick after licking you up so softly, slim fingers pumping in and out of your rough walls, hitting that same spot over, and over again.

get your head out of your ass y/n.

you shake off these thoughts, watching yeonjun walk up to the counter.

“can i talk to you in the back,” he asks with a fake smile gracing his face. you nod as you get up, telling your coworker to handle the register for you.

you and yeonjun both go to the back before you speak first.

“what are we in here for?” you question already knowing the answer. he rolls his eyes in annoyance, clicking his tongue.

“ever since you said you loved me in messages, which i knew was a mistake, you’ve been ignoring me. why is that?” he says ticking his head to the side.

you look up trying to find a valid response, “i don’t know yeonjun, maybe i just didn’t feel like texting you anymore after that?” you say, fake irritation lacing your tone.

his eyes widen in shock, “really y/n? that’s your excuse? that’s the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, please be honest with me. you know i won’t judge anything you tell me.” he says, genuine anger starting to cover up his gentle tone.

you sigh, “i don’t know why honestly. yeonjun, you’ve been doing nothing but bothering me ever since last friday so, i don’t even understand how i could feel this way.”

yeonjun’s eyebrow raises, “feel what way?” you blink in shock.

“i’m pretty sure i have feelings for you.” you say, looking down at your shoes.

now it’s yeonjun’s turn to blink in shock, “oh wow.” he says looking over to the side.

“and y/n, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “because i wasn’t sure before and i tried to make myself lose feelings but, you kept doing all this sweet shit for me and i just couldn’t stop myself anymore. i really do like you, yeonjun.”

you both share a look before yeonjun glances down at your lips and you do the same to him.

his eyes dart back up to yours before he smiles gently.

“y/n, you know i like you back. i make it very clear but, i get why you were scared… i think. you were probably confused by the unfamiliar feeling, and i completely understand that.” he says, now speaking in his normal tone.

your face softens at the way he’s trying to understand where you’re coming from. you smile softly, making his eyes light up.

“that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile y/n,” he says with pure adoration glazing his naturally soft tone.

“yeah, i know,” you say with the smile still on your face.

“i’d like it if you smiled more around me, it’s really pretty,” he adds, watching you cover your face with your hands.

he brings his hand to your face, peeling your hands away. he licks his lips, implying that he obviously wants something.

“i already know what you want so just do it—” you say before he cuts you off, smashing his lips onto yours. even though you’re slightly caught off guard, you kiss back with just as much passion as him.

one of his hands are softly gripping onto your neck as the other is resting on your hip. both of your arms are slinging around his neck, moving into him deepening the kiss.

he moves the hand on your waist down to your thigh, tapping softly signaling you to jump up. doing so, he picks you up with ease resting you down on a small counter near the back room door. his left hand begins rubbing small circles into the flesh of your thigh, while his right hand is grabbing your chin to deepen the kiss even more with his tongue.

the slight intrusion of his tongue makes you softly moan into the kiss which has him lowering the kisses to your neck, he lightly sucks on your sweet spot drawing a delicious moan from you. he covers your mouth with his free hand, continuing to suck on that spot making you close your eyes in satisfaction.

he stops abruptly, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“i don’t think we should be doing this here, y/n,” he whispers with the same smile still on his face. you groan in annoyance, but think about how right he is.

“we can finish this back at my place, if you want?” he asks as he eyes you down with lust glazing over them. you nod bashfully, jumping off the counter gently patting down your clothing to try and make yourself look normal.

he does the same, fixing his hair and clothing. you both walk out before you ask your co-worker to clock you out when it’s time for your shift to end. they nod with a smile, already knowing what you’re about to be up to.

you smile back, walking out hand in hand with yeonjun, letting yeonjun take you to his place to have you however he would like to.

—

SATURDAY.

you wake up to find yourself in an unfamiliar space. you look over to find your clothes on the floor, along with someone else’s. they’re yeonjun’s. you finally realize what you’ve done, you slept with him.

you look down at your waist, seeing his arms wrapped around you. you try to get out of his grasp to go to the bathroom but he subconsciously tightens it, “y/nnn, where are you going?” he mumbles sleepily, pout resting on his face.

your face softens at the sound of his voice, “just to the bathroom jun, i’ll be back don’t worry,” you say. he hums in response, “my shirts are in the top left drawer and my boxers are right under that drawer.”

he releases his grasp on you and lets you get up to find clothing. you get up and walk to his drawer, picking the first pieces of clothing you see and putting them on. you walk over to his bathroom, taking a new toothbrush out of the pack.

you peek out the bathroom, seeing that yeonjun is still sleeping. you take a few minutes to brush your teeth and wash your face, coming up with the plan to make you and yeonjun breakfast.

you make your way to the kitchen, trying not to make any noise as you look for a frying pan. once you find one you turn on the stovetop, checking the fridge for any eggs. grabbing the carton, you crack a couple onto the already heated pan preparing an omelette.

you hear soft footsteps approaching you, feeling yeonjun’s arms wrap around you once again.

“good morning baby, what are you making?” he asks, looking over your shoulder to see what’s being made. he hums in delight, nuzzling his nose the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses.

“jun stop, you’re distracting me,” he giggles, moving away from your neck to let you focus.

“how much longer is this gonna takeeee, i wanna cuddle with you,” yeonjun pleads, a small frown painting his features.

“i’m almost done, give me a sec,” you reply, plating both dishes & finally walking over to sit down next to yeonjun.

he smiles in glee, taking in the smell of the freshly-made breakfast. he pats the cushion next to him motioning for you to sit down as you hand him his plate.

“thank you pretty,” he says while cutting the omelette into a small enough bite for him to chew, humming in delight at the savory taste. you watch him with a mix of hopefulness & confusion swirling in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you he likes it.

he nods slowly, “i like it! it’s really good, your cooking is amazing y/n,” he smiles, taking another bite.

“thank you yeonjun,” you say as you begin to take small bites of your own food. you feel the male next to you wrapping his arm around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“i know this is sudden but, will you be my girlfriend? i really want you to be, it’d really mean the world to me… you can say no!” he mumbles at first, gradually increasing his volume. you stare at him dumbfounded, shocked he’d even think you’d want anything else more than that.

“it’s weird you’d think otherwise jun, i’d love to be your girlfriend.” you say, raising your hand to gently rub his cheek.

he melts into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“i’m glad, i love you so so much.”

“i love you so so much more.” you say, before pressing a soft kiss onto yeonjun’s lips.

2023 TTYUNZ.

taglist: @k-labels @boba-beom @bucketofhiros @yeofy @n0-thisispatrick @hyukafied @hyunimylove @luvsoobs @choiwrld @majestyjun @tyunkus @belovedxiao @h00nerz !

author’s note: this was kinda rushed i’m so sorry guys, i hope you enjoy! 🥹🥹