#but still wanted to reserve a place to be like ‘videos come get your videos we got a new video fresh from the oven’

[arcane-trickster]

You know- I still have no idea how this URL wasn’t taken already what with the whole ‘dnd rogue subclass’ thing, but I kind of like to think I entered it in at the exact moment someone was switching it from an unused side blog in their horde of Names Most Awesome to their main blog URL, and I just sort of Yoinked it like an invisible hobbit snatching a particularly shiny teacup from the clutches of a red dragon.

[wonryllis]

watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.

warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?

theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)

﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (find them here)

` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!

“i don’t mind this feeling.”

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.

god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.

he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.

to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.

you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.

this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off their balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)

getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.

“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.

he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.

“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.

“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.

“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.

“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.

“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.

training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.

it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.

she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.

however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.

wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.

“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.

jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.

“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.

the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.

“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.

looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.

“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.

“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.

with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.

“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.

you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.

“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.

“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.

“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.

his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.

he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’

“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.

two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.

he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.

“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.

“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.

“there's no mirror— “

“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.

jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.

“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.

“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.

“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”

“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.

in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.

the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.

he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.

“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.

for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.

when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.

“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.

“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.

“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?

you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.

”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”

four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.

he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.

“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.

“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.

putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

“no don't do this me,”

“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.

“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.

“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.

“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.

“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.

“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.

“yunie!”

“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.

“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.

“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.

“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.

“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.

the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.

he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.

you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.

“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.

“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.

you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.

but what she says next makes you lose your temper.

jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”

“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?

truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.

however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.

you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.

he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.

“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.

jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.

“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.

ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.

“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”

“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.

“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.

“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.

“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.

a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.

after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.

“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.

it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.

'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.

by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.

dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.

after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.

in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.

“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.

“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.

“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.

it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.

but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.

“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”

“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.

the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.

“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.

“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.

when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”

“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.

it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.

“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”

“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?

“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.

at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.

“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.

“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.

“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.

“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)

“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.

jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.

“alright say, what did you wanna say?”

“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.

he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.

“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.

“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.

“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.

“you need to punished!” you whine,

“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.

“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.

jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.

“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.

“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.

“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?

“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.

“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.

“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.

he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.

“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.

“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.

“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”

“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.

he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”

“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.

”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)

he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?

he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.

jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.

your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.

“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”

the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.

he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.

you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.

“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.

his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”

holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.

the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.

jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.

in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.

“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.

before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.

feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.

he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.

“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.

exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.

“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.

“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).

“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”

“jake!”

“what? it's the truth!”

the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.

“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.

“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.

pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.

“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.

“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.

“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.

“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.

when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.

it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.

they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.

in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )

when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”

before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.

on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.

cheerleader, not a bad idea—

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

[soobnny]

coming home — bang chan. established relationship. fluff. chan surprising you by coming home. could be a part two to ‘one more month’

The plan had been to surprise you.

It’s been months since Chan’s been home, and all the days leading up to him coming back have been spent thinking about how much he’d like to hold you and kiss you without the restrictions of his work. He hates having to leave you. Hell, it’s always been the hardest part of what he does—saying goodbye to you.

He’d been thinking of all the ways he could be a better boyfriend to you, starting with a dinner reservation at your favorite restaurant, to make up for lost time. Video calls and text messages can only go so far, but they will never be able to replace you when you’re not around. Though, what had not been part of the plan, was for his flight to be pushed back due to a sudden schedule.

Chan supposes he should be grateful, but he finds it hard when all he wants is to make it home to you. The dinner reservation is canceled, and Chan’s flight arrives in Korea at around 2am.

It takes an hour travel before he’s at your doorstep, but the boy doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t think he has the heart to, not when you’d admitted to him a few weeks ago how hard sleep had been coming to you. Doesn’t want to disturb you of rest that he knows you desperately need amidst the credits you’re taking for college.

He sighs, taking out his duplicate keys and inserting them in the keyhole, twisting the knob and quietly walking into your apartment. He’s extra careful with his actions, slightly cringing when the door makes a small banging sound at being closed. He hopes it didn’t startle you awake.

Chan undoes the laces of the shoes you’d gifted him on his birthday last year, setting them aside just beside your own pair. He finds himself staring for a second, unknowing smile already forming on his face at the realization that you’re actually here. And in any second, you’ll be back in his arms.

“Chan?”

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight he’s subjected to. He supposes the slight banging of your door had woken you up, because now you’re standing in front of him, eyes still adjusting with a small yawn threatening to escape. He doesn’t think you’re fully awake yet, and Chan would’ve lunged to embrace you had you not looked so gentle and confused.

“Hi baby.” He can’t hide his smile anymore, not that he was trying to in the first place. He’s smiling in that lovesick way, eyes crinkling like crescents and cheeks growing more and more prominent when he notices the realization slowly dripping color on your face.

“Oh my god. You’re home.” Your eyes are a little wider now, staring at his eyes, his nose, his lips. You’re trying to decipher whether you’re still dreaming, but it’s impossible to draw that conclusion when he’s inching closer and closer to where you are, slipping his black backpack on the floor in favor of wrapping his arms around you. “Channie, I’ve missed you so much.”

Chan can’t seem to respond, not when he’s finally fully engulfed in you—the scent of your shampoo, your warmth from having been under the covers not long ago, your skin. Your apartment, and everything about you. So potently you. He hugs you for as long as possible, so much so that you notice a glimpse of his dyed hair tucked under the beanie he always wears.

“Have to shower. Go get warm under the covers again, hm?”

“But—”

“I’ll be back before you know.” Chan presses a sweet kiss on your lips, and he almost crumbles. He’ll kiss you better when you’re wrapped up in his arms a few minutes from now. And true to his word, he does come back in the blink of an eye, and you watch in fondness as he positions himself beside you under the covers, arms scooping you to lay down on him.

“Love you.” He whispers, eyes drifting to your face. He always does this when he’s with you, always so captivated by you and everything about you. You’re just so familiar, and it feels good to be coming back home to you. “Missed you a lot.”

“Will you stay?” You ask. Almost hopeful.

“Mhm.” He hums. “I’m staying, baby.”

It’s so easy to sleep with Chan next to you. You feel sorry for the way you drift back to sleep, but he doesn’t mind at all. His attention is still on you, and his heart twitches at how beautiful you are, and how there is never any pressure to be anything when he’s with you.

And he stays. He stays with his palms pressed on your back, and his lips placing gentle kisses on your face for a few minutes before he falls asleep. And he continues to stay when you wake up with his mouth finding yours. Chan stays, and he doesn’t plan to leave anytime soon.

[seananmcguire]

That Xiran Jay Zhao video about the amount of time it takes to get paid by the publisher, a couple of time she says "that's just the way it is." Are there actual, legitimate business reasons for holding off paying someone 6 or 8 or more months what they've earned for their book? Or is it the publisher basically going "We'll pay you when we pay you. What are you gonna do about it?" because they're essentially the one in charge?

And is it the same for all authors? Or is there an unofficial "tier" system based on your name? Are they telling people like Stephen King or James Patterson or Neil Gaiman "you'll see your money in 8 months" or are they more likely to be getting monthly checks just because of who they are?

There are some legitimate business reasons, yes.

Okay, so let's look at the way a book is sold to a publisher. I'm going to use very round numbers, because I don't want to do a lot of math right now. So say I sell a book for $15,000 under the traditional three installment contract--signing, delivery/acceptance, and publication. What this means is I sign the contract, I get a $5,000 check! Yay! I will also get checks when the book is turned in and accepted, emphasis because it means I can't just give them a word jumble and claim I turned the book in, and then again when the book comes out. We're ignoring side situations like "book is never turned in" and "book is never published."

But wait! My agent gets 15% off the top of each of those checks, which isn't a whole lot at $5,000--$750--but means I'm receiving effectively a $4,250 check, and then waiting maybe a year for the next one.

In the US, 1/3rd of that check goes automatically to taxes, and I cannot math that very well, but it's about $1,416. So I'm left with $2,834 as my payment for the year. This is why most authors will have day jobs.

This structure makes sense. They pay you to call dibs on your book: they pay you when the dibs pan out: they pay you when they can start making money. Now, recently, some publishers have started going to a four stage advance payment, and I can't see any real justification for that. Maybe someone will give me one. I'd be fascinated to know what it is.

So here's the thing: until the book is out, there is no more money. You've been paid for the book, but it's not making money for the publisher yet, and so of course you're not getting more money. It used to be the expectation that your advance would pay your bills while you wrote the next book; that is clearly no longer the case. I live in Seattle. A single check from a three-stage advance isn't paying my mortgage for a month. But.

Once the book is out, it can start making money, and that's when things get complicated. Say a bookstore places an order for 10 copies of AWESOME NEW BESTSELLER. Yay! That should be ten sales, and ten units of whatever your royalty is, right? Only these are physical items, and bookstores can return them, so your publisher marks it down as "ten sales, five reserve against returns," meaning you're only getting credit for five sales until the return window (usually a year) runs out. Where it gets a little hinky is when the bookstore sells all ten and orders ten more, and the publisher still has it marked as "five (now ten) reserve against returns." Basically, you're only getting credit for half your sales until that reserve window closes.

Sadly, thanks to certain retailer policies, this has been grandfathered into applying to electronic sales as well.

TL,DR: The delay in royalty payments is to give bookstores time to sell the books, and mean that your publisher doesn't pay you for a hundred sales, only to ask for the money from fifty to be given back when books are returned. This could happen faster in the modern world, but that would involve publishers paying us faster, and they like to keep the money in their hands as long as possible.

To the best of my knowledge, no one is A Big Enough Author that they can demand their money now, right now. And this is why trad publishing continues to self-select for the wealthy and the young.

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

**If you haven't read Pt. 1 yet, READ IT FIRST.**

Summary: You fight the effects of the chemical compound for as long as you can, until Bucky makes you an offer that your body can't seem to refuse. But, you each have a rule that the other has to follow.

Warnings: this one is a huge fucking tease, I'm so sorry (I won't be sorry when I release part 3 tonight), masturbation, talk of unprotected sex, profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.

Word Count: 4k (I just couldn't stop the build up)

Author's Note: I cannot believe the overwhelming response on part one of this, I was just in a silly goofy mood and decided to finally use my Tumblr for something other than reading y'alls AMAZING fics every night before bed. I didn't expect anyone to really even see it. My heart is racing as I get ready to post this rn lmao. PLEASEEE tell me what your fav part of this one is, I have to know. Part 3 will be out tonight, I can't make you guys wait too much.

            Bucky’s resolve has been steadily crumbling for the past hour, and truthfully, he’s barely placing any blame on the chemical compound that’s interacting with the serum coursing through his veins. He’s placing the blame on you and the needy, whimpering noises that you’ve been making for the last forty-five minutes. After the video conference with Bruce and Tony ended, you were quick to lock yourself in one of the bedrooms of the safe house. You didn’t even say another word to Bucky, you just stood up from the couch with one hand clutched over your stomach, and hurried off down the hall. He wanted to say something to you, but what the hell was he supposed to say? I’m sorry that we’re in this situation? That wouldn’t help a damn thing. You’re in it and there’s nothing either one of you can do except pray that you’ll have enough self-control to make it through the night with your doors still locked.

            Bucky sat on the couch for a few minutes after you left, replaying Tony’s last warning to you in his head. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system. It made him feel like shit. He can find relief on his own, he can take care of himself tonight, but you? You’ll suffer for a minimum of eight hours, possibly nearing death, alone behind a locked door. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself. He’s perfectly aware of how capable you are at handling practically anything. He’s been your partner in the field for two months now and he’s never once had a doubt about your skills, your ability to tolerate pain, or even the split-second decisions you have to make sometimes during missions. You might give each other shit the majority of the time that you’re working together, but when it comes down to it, you trust each other with no reservations. So, why then, does he find himself so fucking worried about you?

            He’s been locked in the bedroom across the hall from yours for the past hour now. He thought maybe things wouldn’t be so bad when he heard you tucking yourself away into bed, when he heard you go still and silent for a few minutes. It was smart of you, trying to sleep as much as you could before the chemical fully set in and began to wreak havoc within your body. But after only fifteen minutes, he heard the faintest sound carrying across the hall. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, thinking maybe you’d gotten up to use the bathroom and it was the creak of a floorboard or maybe a door hinge. It was wishful thinking. The second time he heard it, he was sure. You were whimpering in your sleep. For a few moments, he was able to deceive himself into thinking it was whimpers of pain, maybe from your stomach aching in your sleep. When you grew louder, the sounds of your soft, breathy moans mixing with the sound of the sheets rustling as you tossed and turned restlessly, that’s when his resolve began to break apart piece by piece. He sits on the side of his bed in total darkness. His shirt and tactical pants are strewn across the floor where he previously discarded them when the heat emanating from his body became too much to bear. His hands grip the edge of the mattress with enough force to break through the layers of fabric there, but he fears that if he lets go, the next thing his hands will grip will be either his cock or the two door knobs separating you both. Focusing on your suffering is keeping him from feeling his own pain, but the noises you’re making are making it significantly harder for him to ignore the needs that are bubbling to the surface within him. Shit. How the fuck did he end up in this situation with you?

            You awake suddenly, drenched in sweat, your sweats especially making you feel like damp towels are wrapped around your legs. You waste no time throwing the covers back and ripping your sweats off, tossing them onto the floor and moving your hair to lay it across your pillow so it’s not sticking to your neck. Fuck HYDRA. Fuck Zemo for killing Dr. Nagel. Obviously, you wouldn’t have wanted him running around recreating the super soldier serum either, but if he was still alive maybe you wouldn’t be lying here in this state. You take a deep breath in, counting to three in your head as you breathe it back out. Focusing in on your symptoms, you try to make a mental list. You think that maybe if you can remind yourself of the science behind the symptoms, you won’t become an irrationally horny mess, you can just reason your way out of the most intense arousal you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweating, tachycardia, abdominal cramping, bone pain…you stupidly let your right hand slide down between your legs. Your fingertips briefly grace the exterior fabric of your black boyshort panties, feeling how wet they are adds another symptom to the mental list, not that you needed to feel it to know. Arousal.

            You lean over to the bedside table and feel around blindly for your phone. The screen illuminates and you see that it’s only 10 pm. You’ve only been sleeping for an hour. The chemical compound isn’t even at its peak activity level yet and you’re already beginning to feel a type of desperation that you haven’t felt before. You need relief. Tony’s words swirl around in your mind, making you feel lightheaded and making you want to hunt him down and make him take the words back by force, like that would change the reality of the situation you’re currently in. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system.

            You could try finding relief on your own. Tony isn’t lord over all things scientific. When has he ever dealt with a compound like this before? Never. He doesn’t know shit. You’re trying so hard to convince yourself that he could be wrong. Sitting up in bed, you reach over and flip on the lamp that sits on the bedside table, casting a pale glow across the room. You will yourself to think clearly, to make a plan and implement it. You can fight this. You need something that’ll take down your body temperature, slow your heart rate, and ease some of the pain you’re feeling everywhere. A cold shower.

            Bucky listens intently as you open your door and your feet patter softly down the hall. He listens as you shut and lock the bathroom door behind you and then as you turn on the shower. He mentally curses his heightened sense of hearing when he hears the tussle of your clothes hitting the floor. He’s been ignoring his hardening cock as it grows beneath the black fabric of his boxers. He’s been ignoring it because he feared if he tried to relieve himself, you’d likely hear him across the hall and he’d never let himself live it down. He can’t be the first one to break. But maybe, with you being in the shower, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything coming from his room. Why the hell are you even in the shower? He imagines the pain you’re in would make it hard for you to stand in there for very long, and it’s not like a shower is going to give you much relief at all. He can’t wonder for more than a quick moment, before the chemical begins to really cloud his mind, his clear thoughts becoming hazy behind thoughts of chasing relief. Fuck it. You won’t hear a damn thing.

            Bucky sighs deeply as his lays back on the bed, still in darkness, pushing his boxers down a few inches and freeing his hard length. His flesh hand quickly wraps around it, giving it a slow stroke from base to tip, pre-cum quickly coating his fingers.

            “Oh, fuck.” He groans lowly. It’s never felt like this before. It’s as if every nerve in his body has shifted, has traveled down to embed in his cock. His head falls back into his pillow, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of his shaft finally being handled. He works his fist up and down, picking up speed and reveling in the feeling of temporary relief. As he strokes his cock, he feels the pain throughout his body slowly dissipating, easing up but not fully disappearing. Before he can stop himself, he’s picturing exactly what you’d look like right now. Your perfectly toned body standing under a stream of water, your hands running down your smooth skin, your eyes closed as you let the shower wash away your discomfort. He feels guilty. Truly, he does. But it's as if he has no control over his thoughts when his hand is on his cock and his veins are corrupted with a potent chemical from hell. Especially not when you’re naked a mere ten feet down the hall. As Bucky nears his climax, his balls tightening and his cock twitching in his hand, a loud crash resounds throughout the house and he’s brought back to reality. He’s on his feet, his boner tucked reluctantly away in his boxers, and his bedroom door flying open in less than two seconds, fearing the worst. He thinks you must’ve passed out from the effects of the chemical, fallen in the shower, maybe split your head open. When he reaches for the bathroom door knob and finds it locked, he’s giving no second thought to breaking the door down. Hell, he decided he was going to break it down before he ever left his room. He takes one step back, ready to use his leg to kick through it, when he hears the shower water cut off and the curtain pull back.

            “Y/n?” His voice is laced with concern and it takes you by surprise. You’d only been standing in the ice-cold shower for two minutes when you realized it wasn’t going to do shit for you. You aren’t usually one to lose your temper, but feeling so hopeless and helpless, your only plan failing to provide you with any relief, you ended up slamming your fist into the tiled shower wall out of pure frustration. You didn’t do it hard enough to really hurt yourself, but apparently hard enough to alarm Bucky.

            “You’re supposed to be locked in your room.” You call out, your voice coming out a little timid and quieter than you intended. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you step out of the shower and examine yourself in front of the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks are still flushed, your pupils are dilated so much that you’re surprised the lights aren’t hurting your eyes yet, and your rapid pulse is nearly visible in your neck. You let your hair down from the bun you threw it up into for the shower and then pull on the same shirt and damp panties you had on moments earlier.

            “I thought you fell.” Bucky says quietly, barely above a whisper. You can tell he’s standing close to the door. You’ve never heard him speak so softly. You freeze, your hands clutching the edge of the bathroom sink as your body responds to his voice, against your rational mind’s will. You feel a familiar heat gathering between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together. He needs to go back to his room. Now.

            “Bucky, go back to bed.” Your voice is firm, without a single hint of hesitation. Bucky knows that he should heed the warning. He knows he should turn around right now and go back and lock his door. Instead, he stands there in the hallway with his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers and a conflicted expression on his face. You said earlier that your only option was to lock yourselves in your respective rooms and ride it out until morning. Was that really the only option though? He could easily think of a few more options, though admittedly, he might not be thinking with his brain anymore.

            “You have to go back to your room before I come out.” You’re starting to sound like you’re pleading with him. As much as you want to act strong and like you have all of the self-control in the world right now, you’re worried that if you step out into the hall and see him, you won’t be able to stop yourself from reaching out for him. You want to feel his skin beneath your hands as you run your palms from his shoulders, down his chest, straight to the waistband of whatever the hell he’s wearing right now. You want to have him completely bare in front of you, with nothing stopping you from dragging him straight to your bed to find the relief that you both so desperately crave right now. A sharp pang in your lower stomach causes you to let out a soft groan, and the sudden inhale you hear from Bucky through the door doesn’t go unnoticed.

            “Not until I see that you’re okay.” Bucky says, still worried that you fell in the shower or hurt yourself somehow. Not wanting to waste any more time letting the chemical stew in your reproductive system, you flip the bathroom light off so you’re thrown into darkness, before unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open slowly. You can just barely make out his form in the dark hallway, the curve of his broad shoulders, the glint of the black and gold vibranium making up his left arm, and fuck…the ripples down his abdomen. You’ve always thought he was frustratingly attractive, but now? Just looking at him has you insatiable. You realize quickly that he’s not wearing anything except a pair of black boxers and his dog tags. He’s really not making this easy on you. Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh, telling yourself to suck it up and walk past him. Just walk past him. But now you what he looks like with nearly no clothes on, and he’s so close to you. So. Damn. Close. A foot away from you, to be exact.

            “I’m fine, just go back to bed.” You whisper. You don’t trust yourself to speak any louder, worried that raising your voice might awake something much more primal within yourself.

            “Look at me.” He says, matching your whisper volume. Shit. Shit, shit. Shit. No.

            “Don’t—” You’re cut off by the feel of his cool vibranium fingers wrapping around your right hand, lifting it so he can see it better. You suck in a harsh breath at the contact. It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, it’s not even what you need. You need skin. You need him against you. But something about the cool metal contrasting against the warmth of your heated hand feels electrifying.

            “Did you punch the wall?” He questions, examining your reddened knuckles with narrowed eyes. Your eyes remain closed as you nod your head, and he takes the moment to scan his eyes down your body. Your t-shirt skims along the tops of your thighs and he knows if you turned around, it wouldn’t even fully cover the curve of your ass. Fuck, he wants you to turn around. He drops your hand as quickly as he first grabbed it, letting it fall back to your side as he begins running his flesh hand through his disheveled hair.

            “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” Bucky has to know. He knows how high your pain tolerance is, he knows how good you are at putting on a brave face in the worst situations. He has to know how much you’re really suffering right now before he makes an offer that he can’t take back.

            “Four.” You fib, pressing your lips together and daring to open your eyes and look back at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little more and you can see the sweat glistening across his chest, his quick breaths drawing your attention straight to his pecs.

            “Don’t lie to me.” His gaze hardens. He hates that you’d try to lie to him. Do you really not trust him enough to just be open with him? Jesus, he’s standing in front of you in his fucking boxers with a hard-on that you haven’t even noticed yet and somehow you feel the need to keep things from him, like he isn’t just as vulnerable as you are right now.

            “Seven.” You admit truthfully. The pain in your stomach has intensified, and all you want to do is curl into a ball right there on the floor. You feel like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, you feel like someone attempted to extinguish that fire with a gallon of hot sauce, and then ran you over with a semi-truck. You reach out for the door frame with your right hand, using it for balance as your legs begin to feel weaker.

            “Y/n-” Bucky starts, ready to make you an offer, but you don’t let him continue. He knows it’s crossing a line. He’s fully aware that if he offers and you say no, things could just get weird between the two of you. He’s even more aware that if he offers and you say yes, it could effectively end your working relationship. But he can’t stand to see you like this. You might give each other shit more often than you’re civil with each other, but something about you being in pain has always sat wrong with him. He worries more about you in the field than he worries about himself.

            “Don’t say my name, just…” You cut him off, but your voice trails off as your eyes wander down to the front of his boxers, finally noticing the way he’s straining against the fabric, his tip resting just barely under the waistband. “If you keep standing here, if you keep saying things to me, I’m not going to be able to go back to my room. I need you to walk away before I lose the power to let you.” Your warning should be clear as day now. He needs to leave you alone.

            “No.” His refusal hits a nerve, angering you more than you would’ve thought possible. You feel a rush of adrenaline surge through you as you lose control of your actions. You place your hands against his chest, shoving him back, hard. He barely moves, which just further enrages you. “Y/n, we can fix this. I can fix this for you.” His offer is out in the open now. He holds his breath as you freeze in front of him, your hands falling away from his chest and your eyes squeezing shut in contemplation.

            “Do you even realize what you’re offering?” Your question hangs in the air between the two of you, and the tension in the hallway makes it feel as though lightning is about to strike the tiny cobblestone house that you stand in. You wish lightning would strike. When you open your eyes this time, the look in Bucky’s eye has changed. There’s something in place of his usual hard gaze, something that nearly draws you in.

            “Yes.” He’s offering to fuck you. He’s offering to give you the relief that you so badly need, the relief that can only be found when he finishes inside you. You’re hallucinating. That’s what this is. Because there is no fucking way that he’s standing in front of you right now, the six-foot tall super soldier who you can barely get along with outside of mandatory missions, offering to fuck you raw. “I know what I’m offering.” You only take a moment to weigh your options. Go back to your room, lock the door, and suffer for the next 7-10 hours or have sex with him and hope that it doesn’t ruin your entire life. Why would it ruin your life? Because he’s the only partner that you’ve trusted enough to work with since Nat passed, and there’s no way that things can just be fine and normal after you’ve seen each other naked. Things would get awkward, it’d be hard to look at each other, hard to see each other as professionals anymore. And your work, your job, is your life. Outside of this you have nothing. No family, not a single friend that isn't connected to this damn line of work, not a damn thing to turn to when this inevitably goes to shit.

            “Stop overthinking it.” Bucky’s voice breaks you out of your whirlwind of thoughts. Against your better judgement, you make eye contact with him and the way he’s looking at you gives you butterflies. Butterflies? Who the fuck are you right now? “Close your eyes.” His voice is low, making the butterflies in your stomach explode and spread outward until it feels like your skin is tingling. You don’t know why you do as he says, but your eyes close and you stand there with bated breath as the floorboards creak. He’s stepping closer to you, stopping when you feel his breath fanning across your face. He trails his flesh fingertips from the back of your left hand and up your arm slowly, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your overheated skin but leaving some kind of calmness behind. You relish the way your left arm becomes the only part of your body that isn’t in pain, the only part that he’s touching.

            “Okay…” Your voice is raspy as you cave to his touch. “But I have a rule.” He pulls his hand away and you wince as the pain quickly returns to the bones deep within your arm. He raises an eyebrow at you as he waits for you to continue. “You can’t kiss my lips.”

            Bucky hesitates for a second, caught off guard by your insane rule. No kissing? During sex? Do you hate him that much? Fuck, he shouldn’t have offered to do this in the first place. It’s obvious that you really don’t want this, and he won’t be able to get off knowing that.

            “Who’s overthinking now?” You laugh out, brushing past him and heading straight for your bedroom door. You took his hesitation as a rejection of your rule, and if he rejects your rule then you’re not doing this. If he kisses you, you’re scared you’re going to feel something. You can have sex and find absolutely zero meaning in it, that’s not that hard. It’s just a physical act. But kissing? Kissing makes it too intimate, too much of a real connection. You won’t give that away so easily. Just as you’re nearing the door, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap tightly around your wrist and pull you back, spinning you around so you’re facing him. In less than a second, he’s walking you backwards until your ass hits the wall and your hand is pinned above your head, with his body pressed firmly against yours. His nose brushes over the tip of yours and you shudder at the feeling of his skin, his body giving off so much heat that you’re regretting having put your shirt back on earlier.

            “Fine, I won’t kiss you.” He rasps. His vibranium hand is gripping your hip, holding you solidly against the wall as he moves to run his lips along your jawline. He doesn’t kiss your skin, he simply lets his lips ghost over it, making you tilt your head to the side in anticipation. “I have one rule of my own.”

            “What’s that?” Your voice sounds a lot more confident than you expected it to, like you’re not fighting to hold yourself together inside. He nips at your earlobe softly and you feel the tip of his tongue against it so lightly that you’re not sure if you imagined it or not.

            “You’re going to wear these while I fuck you.” He guides your right hand up over the perfect ridges of his abs, across his chest, and straight to the dog tags that hang around his neck.

Next Part

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[fixfoxnox]

Mw2 headcannons where Shepherd kills us as bait and sends a video of it to the team...

Oh boy oh boy this is dark isn't it? This should be fun though. Not sure if you wanted this as romantic or friendship so I'll try to toe the line.

141 Sent A Video of Reader Dying

Warnings: Reader Death, gunshots

Price is the one the video gets sent to, Shepherd knows that if it gets to Price the rest of the 141 will see it too

Price has been stressed about you being taken hostage by Shepherd, and while he's tried not to think the worst, he knows immediately what the video is as soon as it shows up.

The second he looks at it and sees no letter or anything attached, a part of him just knows. A part of him starts grieving right then.

For the rest of the 141, Gaz and Soap had been staying pretty positive.

It was clear that Gaz was feeding off of a lot of Price's energy, so while he knew the possibility, he'd been cautiously optimistic about getting you back.

He was one of the younger members of the team and while he'd seen death, it had never been anything as close as this. So in his mind, the possibility of you dying just didn't seem real.

There was no world for him in which he wouldn't eventually see you again and get to have your warmth to brighten up his days.

For Soap, he wasn't even letting himself consider the bad that could happen.

Even when Price and Ghost were trying to keep him realistic, to him there was just no world in which you didn't come back. He never even questioned it for a second.

Your disappearance didn't seem to bother him, because he expected that by the next week you'd be right back at his side, teasing him about something or the other.

For Ghost, he was probably the most pessimistic of the group.

Ghost has seen loss. He's seen loss and he knows what men like Shepherd are capable of, what they'll do to prove a point

So the second that Ghost hears that Shepherd has you, he practically already starts grieving.

He's more quiet and reserved from the rest of the group and when he refers to you, its already in past tense.

He and Soap butt heads a lot during this time. Ghost isn't being positive enough for Soap's taste, and Soap isn't being realistic enough for Ghost's.

Several times, Ghost just closes his eyes and tries to picture your voice and your face. He wants to commit you to memory, keep everything fresh enough that he can't forget.

Roach doesn't know what to think.

He's worried out of his mind and his brain keeps bouncing between grief and determination to get you back.

A part of him wants to just sit still and do nothing, a part of him is frozen in that state, just numbness as it tries to work through what is happening

The other part of him is working his ass off. This part doesn't care about processing what happened, it just wants to have you back.

He's already planning your return meal, the breakfast and lunch and dinner he'll make for you as he recovers.

Similar to Price, as soon as Ghost see's the tape, he knows.

Price walks in to the meeting room with it, Laswell trailing behind him and Ghost sees the little tape in his hand and his mouth just snaps shut. He doesn't say a word.

Price warns the group flat out. He tells them whats likely on the tape, he tells them that if they don't want to watch, if they don't want the chance of seeing, then they can leave

None of them leave. They can't, not when it comes to you. They have to see.

The video starts and immediately they're all on edge. There's you, tied to a chair in some dark and dank room.

You look tired and even over the video they can see the cuts and bruises on your skin, the way your clothes are torn and cut, how defeated you look.

Shepherd starts talking. He's walking around you, stopping behind you to place his hand on your shoulders. When he does you flinch.

Soap is seething as he watches the video. Roach seems frozen in place, Gaz is wringing his hands together nervously, Ghost hasn't moved a muscle, but his whole body is tense. Price seemed defeated.

They only pick up on bits and pieces of what Shepherd says, they're so focused on you.

They pick up on Shepherd saying that you've given them nothing, stayed loyal and kept your mouth shut no matter what they tried. Each of the boys feels pride flood through them at that.

But, of course, the video has to end and Shepherd brings things to a close.

He stops behind you in the video. "If we can't get anything from them, the least we can do is send a message."

He pulls his gun out. You don't flinch as you feel it press against the back of your head. You just stare forward at the camera, unmoving.

The gunshot rings out and your body slumps forward. The video cuts off and the 141 are left in the silence of what they've just seen.

It doesn't take long for tears to start falling. For Soap to collapse with his face in his hands against the table. For Gaz to look to Price, hoping to see something only to be met with the signs of clear grief on his face. For Roach to feel tears slide down his cheeks as he stares forward, completely unmoving. For Ghost to get up and leave the room, unable to sit with the group any longer as grief consumes them.

A cloud lays over the 141, they've lost one of their own. They have to start grieving.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

[fushigur0ll]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLycL7PB/ this with reader and Miles?? Thanks!!

thank you for requesting i was about to leave and go play roblox when i seen this 😩 i’m off work today so i hope i can get some fics in

LET ME SUFFOCATE

꒰ ♡ ꒱ — miles found this little trend on tiktok and wants to try it you<3

includes; fluff, kisses, and attempted murder (because of your thighs) just a little small drabble habble

“BABEEEE!!” he yells, tilting his head back and drawing out the nickname for you. he was just scrolling through his phone while you went to use the bathroom. he found a video of a guy with his girlfriends thighs around his head while the song ‘ziploc’ by tyler creator plays and he realizes that’s it a trend when he pressed on the sound and sees a dozen of the same thing.

he slowly smiles when he realizes that he has you as his beautiful lover and wants to partake in this activity too.

“YES!” you shout back, finishing up in the bathroom. “i’m almost done!” he nods and looks through more of the videos, not even noticing that you came out and is walking behind him so now you see what he was watching. you crouch behind him since he was laying horizontally on your bed and you go closer to his head.

“watchu watching” you whisper in his ear and he flinches harshly, dropping the phone on his face making him cover his mouth in pain. you gasp and start laughing but as well as holding his mouth as well, leaning down to kiss his face multiple times.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry” you giggle and he glares at you shaking his head with a snort. you remove his hands that covering the spot where his phone fell and you kiss around it then his nose and lips.

“forgive me?” you show him your pretty smile and he smiles back from upside down, leaning up to kiss your chin. “you finally give love to my double chin” you gasp dramatically and he snorts, sitting up then pushing your head away. you climb on the bed and onto his lap, smiling at him lovingly.

“watchu smiling so bright and pretty for” he pokes your cheek and you point to the phone. “still wanna do it?” his eyes widens as he forgot about it so quickly but does nod excitedly. you chuckle at his response and peck his lips once more before climbing off his lap to lay vertically on your bed. you spread your legs, patting your pelvis for his head to lay on.

he smiles and doesn’t hesitate to lay back onto you, grabbing your thighs and putting him over his shoulder so it rests there by either side of his head.

“we needa do this more often-you have soft thighs” he whispers, just kneading them while you just laugh. “start the video sir” he gets the video ready and it’s the 3 second count down before the song plays and he’s lip syncing so handsomely towards the camera while squeezing the side of your thigh. you stare at the top of his head blankly before letting your intrusive thoughts win by squeezing his face with your thighs so suddenly that has his eyes widening in surprise and shock. the video ends a bit after and he start coughing wheezing out laughs.

“tryna suffocate me, girl?” he wheezes, squeezing your thigh tighter to let him up and you laugh, letting loose and he sits up to take deep inhales of the air he’s lost. you laugh and pull him ontop of you so both hands on either side of your head.

“you wanna pucker up to me now huh?” he chuckles breathlessly as you stare at him innocently blinking. “what do you mean by that?” you tilt your head cutely and he rolls his eyes and collapses on you, making a sudden wheeze come out of you.

“now you understand how i feel” he snickers and you wrap your arms around his head, kissing his head multiple times. “i know you liked it though” you placed a loudly obnoxious kiss on his forehead and he lifts his head up to look at you right after

“i did, i really did”

“see? ya cant lie to me pooks butt”

fushigur0ll © 2022 all rights reserved.

[starlostastronaut]

━ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH STRAY KIDS

PAIRING: stray kids x reader

GENRE: fluff, headcanons

CW: reader is called princess in changbin's, they are all whipped af and spoil their partner to the maximum

a little late, but here we are! just a few headcanons on how i think stray kids would spend valentine's day with you! also using this as a thank you gift for you, because we reached 222 followers which i'm so thankful for ❤️ enjoy reading <3

my masterlist | join taglist here

BANG CHAN

apologizes days in advance because he will be probably busy because of comeback deadlines

has flowers delivered for you multiple time throughout the day with little notes that say how much he loves you

spends two hours on a video call with you to make up for it

when you come home in the evening, there's a candlelit dinner waiting for you

chan is already there, taking off your coat like a gentleman

"i'm sorry i couldn't be with you today but i was preparing a surprise"

this man-

he spend the whole day in the studio making a song for you

when he plays it, you tear up a bit

absolutely will slowdance with you in the living room to the song he wrote for you

LEE MINHO

acts like he forgot it

"do you know what today is?" "wednesday. why?"

he asks you to meet him for breakfast like any casual day

what you don't know that while you're getting breakfast together, he has a secret agent jisung at your place packing your bags

instead of driving you to the school/work how he promised, you end up on the airport

"suprise!"

he booked you a two-day vacation in japan

you can't believe it but it is really not a joke

you pretend to be mad

but the moment you arrive at your destination you're just excited for everything that awaits you

SEO CHANGBIN

starts planning two weeks in advance because he has to beat last year

a two hour long videoconference with wooyoung happened to determine the best valentine's day surprise for you

he has it all planned out

he messages you first thing in the morning to wish you happy valentine's and to tell you he loves you

in the afternoon, he picks up from school/work and you go to your favourite shop

"i'm buying today, pick anything you want princess"

then he prepared a romantic picnic at the han river to end the day together

chan had to talk him out of arranging fireworks for you

HWANG HYUNJIN

the week before valentine's day you barely see him

he was busy painting a portrait to give to you as a gift (he painted the photo of you and him that you have as a phone background)

despite being the resident romantic, hyunjin believes simple and intimate is more than grand gestures

which is why he prepares a seemingly simple dinner with candles and wine

and then it's time for the second present, a set of sexy red lingerie you've been eyeing for a while

it's worth mentioning that the dinner is soon forgotten in favour of other activities

HAN JISUNG

decides to surprise you

instead of simple dinner and flowers he plans a romantic walk to the restaurant

spoiler alert: he gets lost

most of the date is you finding your way back to where you know it

he keeps apologizing but you're having so much fun

it feels like a romantic adventure that has a treasure (dinner) waiting for you

plus you get to hold his hand the whole time because he's scared you'll get separated

you make it to the restaurant an hour and half later and they somehow haven't canceled your reservation, so you can enjoy your dinner

few days later you're already making jokes about the experience, because it's a date you'll remember forever

LEE FELIX

princess treatment all day long

he wakes you up with breakfast in bed

how did he get into your place you still don't know

if it's a work/school day for you, he calls in sick for you so he can spend the whole day with you

it's one surprise after another since

chocolate, flowers, teddy bears... he has it all

he cooked for you and everything

you don't even have to lift a finger, he will do anything you ask him to

just showers you in his love the whole day

definitely makes one of those cheesy valetine's day instagram posts

KIM SEUNGMIN

he was never the one to make a huge deal out of valentine's day, a simple bouquet or chocolate is usually enough

that is until he learns you never had the proper valentine's day experience

he will go out of his way to make sure you get everything there possibly is for your first valentine's day with him

halfway through planning everything he realizes it's pointless since he doesn’t know if you would like it, so he sticks to what he knows

of course he gets you flowers and chocolate, that's a must

but instead of planning anything elaborate, he simply asks what you want to do

in comparision to other members it might be simple, but you spend the whole day doing your favourite activity with seungmin

YANG JEONGIN

scared of both overdoing it and not doing enough

it's his first valentine's day with you, he needs to deliver

asks every single one of his hyungs for advice

ends up taking you the the amusement park

insists on winning the biggest plushie for you

this soon turns into a competition

so now you're alone, anxiously watching the hour pass by while you run from stand to stand trying to win more plushies that jeongin will

when the time is up you meet again and compare your numbers

you won by the difference of two plushies

he complains about the amount of plushies and doesn’t know what to do with them

all of them end up displayed on his bed or somewhere else in his room if they're too big

taglist: (red means i couldn't tag you) @stayconnecteed @bbybearcubbs @kmgfeels @kpopjackie @Aokay1010 @babyphotos0325 @hyunjinshairband7 @feybin @hanjsquokka @stzatzch @palindrome969 @bbokari711 @nujeskz @caitlyn98s @freyjhasdesiredreality @chlodavids @watermelon-mess @kayleefriedchicken @phantombabyy @angelsquid @Jisungsbammey @kangyeonie @lakoya @rylea08 @cookiesandcreammy @kirakombat @azuna-sz @nattisbored @sophias-grove @boldy-49 @traumamama222 @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @btskzfav @missmajdastark @oddracha

@lolareadsimagines @vegetablesarefuntables @urfavblondy @ssozzuu @mitchii

©starlostastronaut 2024 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[alotofpockets]

Busy morning | Reneé Rapp

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Summary: After spending the morning supporting your girlfriend at her Today Show performace, you're very tired and spend the rest of the day cuddling. [Full request]

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 725

It was only 4am when your alarm sounded, you were dreading the early-ness of today’s activities but you wanted to be there to support your girlfriend. She was performing on The Today Show, they organized a small concert on the Today Plaza as a part of their Citi Concert Series. 

Neither you or Reneé were morning people, but you had to be on location at 6am. Reneé had to do hair and make up and then at 7am sound check started. Reneé had told you over and over again that she wouldn't mind if you went to sleep for a couple more hours and arrived later but you insisted on joining her and supporting her. 

So, both of you get ready and drive over to the location. While Reneé got ready you waited in the parking lot for her parents, so that you could guide them in the direction of the dressing room. Just like you Reneé's parents tried coming to as many of her performances as possible. When they arrived you gave both of them a hug before you all joined Reneé in the room. 

Even though it was still way too early to function, she looked absolutely stunning. Her shirt brought out the color of her eyes, and the smile she was wearing was enough to make you stop in your tracks when you laid your eyes on it. 

When the sound check was done, the Plaza started filling with fans. You were standing to the side of the stage with her parents, looking out over the excited fan that had come out to see your girl perform this early in the morning. When Reneé entered the stage and started singing, the crowd started screaming and yelling the words back at her. She truly had the best fans. Reneé had an amazing performance and the crowd loved the way she was interacting with them.

A couple songs later and the concert was over again. The hosts did a quick interview on stage, even her parents joined them on the stage for one of the questions. You were just admiring your girlfriend and the ease she had in answering the questions, she seemed to be in her element and her confidence was radiating. 

She went straight to you when she got off the stage, hugging you tight. "You did amazing, baby." You let her know, paired with a kiss to her cheek. You talked for a bit before a couple of fans walked up asking to take a picture. More and more fans wanted pictures, but you had lunch reservations so you had to leave soon. She didn't want to disappoint her fans, so she said "I'm sorry I can't get to all of you. You know your support means so much to me. Can we take a group picture and you all share it with each other? I'm so sorry, but we really have to get going." Her fans understood of course, because they are amazing. You took the picture for them and then you were on your way.

Lunch with her parents was great, but you were so tired that you were finding it hard to focus on the conversation. You leaned into Reneé's side and put your head on her shoulder. Their conversation continued as normal, giving you some space. When everyone was done eating Reneé said, "I think I should take this sleepy head home." She thanked her parents for being there and for the lunch, before she walked you back to the car. 

Once you arrived back home Reneé led you right to the bedroom. You plopped down on the bed, she smiled at your silliness before helping you take your shoes off. Then doing the same to her shoes before laying down next to you on the bed. You cuddled up into her side. Your favorite place in the world was in her arms. It didn't matter where you were, her arms were home. Reneé plays with your hair until you fall asleep. She kisses your forehead and pulls the blanket over the both of you. She scrolls on her phone for a bit still too high on adrenaline to sleep herself. The videos of today's performance were already all over her notifications, so she watched some of those before closing her own eyes as well.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a tip💗 

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

What is Simon 'Ghost' Riley actually like in a relationship (according to me)

A/N: I know this isn't anything like the things I usually write fics about but if I don't get this out of my system, I will spontaneously combust into flames from thought overload. There is a lot of great fics about him out there, 100%, but there is a steamy pile of garbage as well which makes Simon "an abusive asshole" to quote a TikTok I recently saw - and I couldn't agree more. So, here is my soft take on this tough guy and I hope you can enjoy reading this despite it being pretty far away from everything else on this blog.

Warnings: mentions of torture, violence, weapons, PTSD, profanity, explicit sexual themes but also so much fluff and softness

A/N pt. 2: I base this on Ghost's backstory according to the comic books as well as the video games but this is just my take so if you imagined him differently, that is totally valid!

* * *

Firstly and most importantly, Simon is a very different in his private life compared to his work; meaning he is good at separating the violent side of his work life from the life he has with you.

He must be the softest, the most gentle person there is when he is with you. I think he is very shy in the beginning as well as in early relationship given how his father treated him growing up. It is not that Simon wouldn't trust you, it's more that he would not trust himself. After all, after the Manuel Roba operation, he was tortured for months and came out with severe anger issues.

However, he was able to resolve this when he re-joined the military and engaged therapy but the scars remained: both mental as well as physical.

The reason why Ghost never takes off his mask is because of the scars Vernon and the lot left on his face (and the rest of his body). They are healed now but whenever he sees them in the mirror, he is reminded of everything he has been through, especially the loss of his family.

After Simon had told you why he keeps his mask on even in private life, at least the bottom part, you would not mind it as much but you would also reassure him that the way you feel about him could never be changed by some scars.

Needless to say, Simon would be very, very protective of you. He has lost everyone he has ever loved and cared about and he would never allow the same happen with you. It must be said though that Simon is not possessive. He above all knows the importance of freedom, especially when it comes to making choices about yourself and your comfort.

Still, Simon would face some control issues when you'd go out on your own. At work, he is used to being in charge of everybody, making sure everyone is safe and manning their positions. But with you, he needs to remind himself you are not going to war but just out with your friends, out grocery shopping, out to the library or somewhere. The thought of losing you drives him insane. He could never forgive himself if it happened when he could be by your side instead.

It goes without saying though that Simon prefers the comfort of his home to just about any other place. Clubs give him anxiety and the loud music triggers his PTSD, bars and restaurants are okay here and there but there is no place like home.

He does enjoy hiking and walking with you though.

Simon is romantic by heart so picnics in the nature would be his go-to dates. A bottle of wine, cheese and olives, a blanket in a spot with a view... You'd trace his features gently with the tip of your finger; the curve of his nose, his lips where he'd take your hand in his and kissed it softly as you would lay together in a secluded spot somewhere.

Bonus: when you decide to go home, Simon would never let you help carry any of the things he'd brought. Maybe the blanket but everything else, he'd pile up in his massive arms and carry them all the way home while barely seeing over the heap.

When it comes to sex, Simon would be just as reserved as with taking off his mask in the beginning. He would need much assurance from you that you really wanted to be with him intimately before trying anything.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon would never do anything that could even remotely hurt you when you had sex (or otherwise). On the one hand, he is well aware of his size and strength, and on the other, it is his childhood trauma that keeps him from trying anything that could potentially hurt you (even choking, spanking, etc. is not something he is comfortable with) even if you'd ask him to experiment.

Simon has seen, felt and inflicted too much violence in his life to have it included in his love life as well. All he wants to do is make you feel safe and loved especially when you have sex because this is one of the ways he expresses his love to you.

His sex drive is not that high but when you do have sex, he likes to make it special and intimate. Simon is very serious about it and wants you to enjoy yourself more than anything. To be honest, just seeing you climax causes him do the same.

He enjoys going down on your very much; the intimacy, the softness of your moans, his arms locked around your thighs when his fingers are not intertwined with yours.

Simon's favourite part though is the aftercare. He loves cuddling with you. Physical touch is yet another of his love languages although he was very reserved in the beginning of the relationship.

He is the big spoon the majority of time but sometimes (his favourite) Simon lays his head on your chest, wraps his arms around your waist and lets you play with his hair. He can fall asleep almost instantly.

It cannot be stressed enough that Simon never ever EVER raises his voice at you. Even when you are having an argument (which is not often), he never yells much less gets violent in any way.

He is a great listener and despite not saying much a lot of the time, Simon communicates well although he struggles very much to word his feelings.

After an argument or just for no particular occasion at all, Simon gets you flowers (a lot) - and different kinds every time. Another way for Simon to apologize is to cook for you. He is not very good at it but it is the effort that counts.

When he is away on a mission, Simon calls you a lot just to hear your voice, especially when he is too stressed to fall asleep. Your voice calms him down and help him get some rest but also reassures him you are alright whilst he is not there to keep you safe.

Simon likes to listen about your day, your feelings and your ideas. It keeps his mind far away from dark places. But every now and again, he would trust you with a fragment of his memories when his thoughts are just too loud. You know how precious and how rare it is that Simon opens up to you.

You don't say anything when he talks about his memories and his family but you always hold his hand, brushing your thumb across his calloused knuckles or drawing gentle shapes against his broad back.

You pepper his skin with soft kisses when his voice quietens and lead his head to rest against your chest as you pet his hair.

He likes to listen to you sing too, even if your voice is not the greatest. Even just humming a random melody and feeling your chest vibrate softly beneath his cheek will ease his heart.

Random bonus: Simon drinks English breakfast, no cream and one cube of sugar and has an occasional cigarette with it (Marlboro).

[peachy-wolfhard]

dating toge inumaki

rawr :3 sorry if this doesn't make any sense. if u know what horror game i mentioned shout out. its long bc im a d1 yapper

word count: 975

warnings: swearing, food, horror video games

I LOVE toge i am the number one toge inumaki lover srry not srry

First things first…he's a menace. Walks up behind you and pitches under your ribs, bops you on the head with random items (gently), bites like a cat (u know when ur petting them and then they just randomly bite? Like that)

While yes he does make your life HELL he's also a sweetheart

Flowers regularly, movie nights every week WITH snacks, super duper secret sleepovers (it used to be a secret then panda found out and insisted on joining), dates that last all day then inevitably end in a sleepover

Loves taking you to the arcade with those really hard claw machines so he can flex how good he is at them, even better if they're the ones with anime figures in them

“Oh my god look at it! It looks so dumb i love it” tapping on the glass at a plush seal with balls 

“Salmon” he giggles tapping the card

While Toge loves to go on dates outside of your dorms and the school there are some days that neither one of you has the energy to go out. These nights mainly consist of the both of you cooking dinner together, watching those random 4 hour long videos about random subjects, and falling asleep in each others arms

Speaking of curse speech, he adds new words just for you!

His favorite way to greet you is saying honey

“Hi baby” you say, wrapping your arms around Toge, not caring about how sweaty you are from training.

“Mhm, honey” he whispers, burying his head into your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you, rocking sideways back and forth

To outsiders Toge seems so quiet and reserved but rest assured he has the biggest yappetite EVER like 40 messages in under a minute because whatever thought he has at the moment he NEEDS to tell you them

Some messages are sweet

“Hi bb i love u sm i cant wait to get my “grubby” paws on u ;) n e way i got u stuff”

“Hi brawling rn just wanted to say i luv u sm adn i cant wati for snuggles and love.”

But most are just random thoughts he has

“wass good bbg? <3 do u think panda can get fleas?”

“HELLO MY LOVER URGENT MESSAGE I JUST HAD TEH WORST FOOD EVER I AM ILL PLS BRING GINGER ALE AND TUMS IM DYINGGGGGGASDGJKNSKFNGBKAD”

“bbg check this out” *picture of a really ugly curse* “looks like u :3”

Loves playing videogames with you even if you don't like them he just sits you on his lap and plays anyway

Even if you don't like video games he still makes you play horror games with him, especially if everyone is with you.

“Oh my god i hate this. I don't wanna do this anymore”

“Just keep going forward, it's almost Toge’s turn anyway” Yuta says, slightly giggling at your anxious self.

“No no no nononono i don't wanna do it! Maki help!” you shout, begging your best friend to take over but failing.

“Just sprint, you're gonna be fine” Panda adds leaning over the couch.

“MY TUMMY HURTS I CANT…ok ok i'll sprint..” you say pressing the sprint button and running up the stairs. Just as your character gets into the next room, one of the bosses drops down from the ceiling.

“FUCK NO FUCK NO STOP PLEASE GO AWAY,” you continue to shout as your friends yell for you to run.

Your friends are sick of you…correction, Maki is sick of you two

Everytime she comes into contact with the two of you you're always cuddling, kissing or just generally being lovey dovey. Half the time you and Toge are cuddled up in what looks like the most uncomfortable places.

Desk chairs, chairs in the common room that are as hard as rocks, etc. If there is an uncomfortable place to sit rest assured knowing that the two of you will be snuggled up together

Speaking of pda, he's so sticky 

Toge loves to just be around you whether it be holding your hand, wrapping his arms around you or just standing near you

“Parallel play” is a big thing for you guys since conversations are fairly short (sorry king) as long as you two are in the same room he's happy

Most days consist of one of you working on homework or any other work and the other one just being near

On the rare occasion that you and Toge aren't attached to the hip both of you are texting nonstop

y/n

“meow hi love of my life”

toge

“Good afternoon dear lover, I wish I could be with u rn but alas I am at war and the outcome is looking bleak. But trust me I will return home with goods. Love ur awesome bf”

y/n

“ur putting ur thesaurus and dictionary to work ga damn”

toge

“im gonna bite u”

y/n

“try it coward ill rock ur shit”

toge

“EAT MY BUTT”

One last thing…he’s 100% a food thief 

Does not matter what you have, he is sneaking some of it whether you know it or not

Toge WILL eat your leftovers you've been looking forward to all day

No matter what you have, he always has a little of it. I mean YOU'RE eating it, it must be good

“Taste testing” is another thing he does, he says it's because he doesn't want you to be poisoned but in reality he thinks its funny how annoyed you get about it

Take out you two have had millions of times? Taste tested. Food your friends bought you two? You can't trust them! Taste tested. Food YOU cooked? Might've been poisoned, Taste. Tested.

All together he loves you so much…maybe i'll make a part 2

[bruisedboys]

Congrats congrats congrats!!! So happy for you!

For the celly: Candy cane with tasm!Peter 

13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver

with Peter taking a picture of reader? Please and thank

hi baby thank you so much!! hope this is okay x

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

“Y/N,” Peter’s tone is growing more and more impatient by the second, though it’s mostly for dramatics. He’s having fun, you can hear it in his voice, a smile he doesn’t even try to hide. “C’mon, bub. Just let me take one picture of you?”

You bury your hot face further into your hands. You do not want him to take a picture of you. He’s already tortured you with an overbearing amount of compliments and kisses, telling you how your dress makes you look like a princess and your hair is lovely and woah, dove is that glitter on your eyes? You barely tried, only put on the dress in the first place because tonight’s supposed to be a nice date night. But Peter’s spent so long fawning over you that you might miss your dinner reservation.

In any case, you don’t think you can take much more of Peter’s doting. You’re well on your way to becoming a burning flame of a girl.

“No, thank you,” you say primly. “I don’t want my picture taken.”

Peter makes an indignant noise. “But, sweetheart.” His hands grab your knees, hot and firm. “You look so pretty. I just want one.”

“Nope,” you say, stubborn as a rock. You refuse to succumb to his charm.

“Aw, come on, baby.” Peter gets closer. You can’t see him but you can feel his warmth, smell his cologne. His hands slide further up your knees. Your skin prickles. His fingertips slide just under the hem of your dress, nowhere important but high enough to make you want to squirm. He squeezes your upper thighs gently. “Please?”

You know exactly what he’s doing. You’d known he’d do this from the start and still, you’re putty in his hands. You feel his hot hands on you and realise you’d never be able to say no to him.

“Fine,” you mumble. You drop your hands and find Peter closer than you’d thought, smiling at you lopsidedly. He’s really pretty, so pretty it strikes you in the heart like a bullet. “But just one, Pete, I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Peter beams at you, pulling back. “Sure thing, bub.”

You glare at him while he moves back and fiddles with the dials on his camera. You may be acting grumpy about it, but you love him, and you love that he thinks you look nice enough to want a photo of you. He just makes you nervous, is all.

Peter finishes setting up his camera and smiles at you. “Alright, just sit there and look pretty, okay? Should be easy for you.”

“Peter,” you moan, heat crawling up your neck.

Peter just laughs, bringing his camera up to his eyes. “Smile, okay, sweet thing?”

You do as he says. You don’t think you could deny him when he’s talking to you like that.

“Perfect,” he tells you, smiling himself. “Okay, ready? Three, two, one, cheese!” Peter presses down on the button and his camera clicks, the flash blinding you momentarily before the harsh light fades from your vision.

You slide off his bed where he’s seated you as soon as he’s done, glad it’s over. Your peace is short lived, though. As you’re grabbing your purse from the dresser, Peter sneaks another photo of you, the telltale click of the camera shutter giving him away.

“Peter!” You gasp. You shove him in the chest. “You suck! I said only one. I wasn’t ready that time,” you moan.

Peter’s laughing. It doesn’t annoy you as much as it should, not when he looks so happy, not when he grabs your arm and rubs his thumb into your elbow consolingly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, doll. Y’just looked so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

You roll your eyes. He’s going to be the death of you one of these days. “Whatever, Pete. C’mon, or we’ll miss our reservation.”

[stvharrngton]

"you know what we are. you just want to hear me say it." best friends to lovers steve ??? maybe fluff/comfort 🫶🫶

hi! it’s short but sweet but i hope you enjoy either way 🥺💖

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1381

warnings: none, angst to fluff (the angst is very very minor), oblivious idiots in love, best friends to lovers

prompt: “What are we?” “You know what we are. You just want to hear me say it.”

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The sun was setting, the sky a pretty mix of pinks and oranges. Clouds scattered across the airspace above the lake, the only noise to be heard was the chirping crickets and the dull hum of Robin’s radio down by the dock where she and Nancy sat.

Your place was atop the hood of the infamous Beemer, the one that belonged to your best friend, Steve. He was next to you, like always, knees knocking as you lay back against the windshield.

Wherever you were, Steve was never far away. Your friends always teasing playfully that Steve was like a lovesick puppy following behind you. Always asking when you were gonna get together. Naturally, you both always insisted that you were just friends. That there was nothing going on between you but that, just a friendship.

Not that you didn’t like Steve, of course you liked Steve, but you convinced yourself it could never happen. That he didn’t feel the same way and you couldn’t possibly jeopardise your friendship by coming clean.

Steve liked to make this incredibly difficult for you. The soft eyes from across the counter at Family Video, the lingering touches on the small of your back when you were in a crowd. The spot next to him on the small loveseat was always, exclusively, reserved for you at movie nights, the boy’s strong arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. Hell, you even shared his bed when you stayed the night at his house.

But these were all totally normal things that best friends did, right?

You were disturbed from your daydream momentarily by Steve’s large hand placed on your knee. Your eyes skirted from the sky to the boy laying next to you, his face plastered with a confused but amused look on his face.

“Hey,” he whispered, “whatcha thinking about?”

“Hmm?” you replied, questioning whether or not to tell Steve your head was filled with thoughts about how kissable he looked right now, “Me? Oh, nothing.”

Steve rolled his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned up on his elbows, “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that,” he started, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, “I can see the cogs whirring from here. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You fought with your internal monologue whilst Steve stared at you with those honey brown eyes for what felt like eternity. The longer you didn’t answer the more Steve’s features changed from whimsical and teasing to that of concern and worry.

“Hey,” he spoke again, eyebrows pinched together as his hand came to cup your cheek, a touch that sent shivers down your spine, “what’s wrong, babe, hm? You can tell me.”

You’re not sure what did it, the concern that decorated his face or the soft touch of his calloused hands on your cheek but the words just fumbled past your lips,

“What are we, Steve?”

Steve looked like a rabbit caught in headlights, his hand still on your cheek but the minute movement of his thumb had all but stopped. Jaw slack as his mouth hung open a tad, lips moving only an inch as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t.

You turned your body into him now, eyes boring up at the boy you yearned for in your dreams. You regretted your decision to utter those words when Steve remained silent, grabbing his wrist as you shoved his hand back down by his side.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” You taunted the boy with a roll of your eyes.

In a swift move to get yourself off the hood of the BMW and as far away from Steve as possible, he wrapped his large hand around your forearm, pulling you back next to him, “Hey, come on, wait, please?”

The silence somehow hurt more than the usual we’re just friends schtick but you stayed. You would always stay.

“Fine,” you grumbled, sitting up against the windshield.

“You know what we are. You just want to hear me say it.”

“God, Steve,” you laughed cynically, “is it a crime to ask for a little clarity?”

Steve could only shrug as he busied himself chewing on his bottom lip, “I just figured that, y’know, you just like, knew? Or whatever.”

“Knew what, Steve?” You guffawed, shock written all over your face at the words that were coming out of his mouth, “Come on, what are we?” You asked again.

Of course, Steve thought, of course you were oblivious about his feelings towards you. Oblivious to how crazy he was about you, madly and hopelessly in love with you, his best friend. Using any excuse to get close to you or to touch you.

Steve thought you were the prettiest girl on earth, that the sun and stars revolved around you. Your smile the most beautiful thing he’d seen, your laugh the only thing that could brighten up a bad day. You were it for Steve, the only girl in the world for him. There would never be anyone else.

“I just–I mean, we already act like a couple, I just figured–”

“Oh my God,” you cut him off with a chuckle, you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “it would have been to have actually been asked Steve.”

Your heart was going a thousand miles a minute. Your head left spinning as Steve had practically admitted that he had feelings, that you were together. Albeit a little unorthodox, but all that mattered now was Steve.

You and Steve. Steve and you.

“You know, Nancy said you were a romantic.” You teased, a pout forming on your lips, “I was hoping for some big grand gesture when you asked me to be your girlfriend, Harrington.”

Steve exhaled a laugh, shaking his head at you, “Oh, you want romance, huh, sweetheart? That it? Wanna be whisked off your feet by me, honey?”

His hand came to cup your cheek once more now, thumb smoothing over the hot skin. His eyes boring into yours, Steve’s gaze flickered down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own.

“Maybe,” you whispered as your fingers danced up along his bicep, fingers toying with the hem of his polo. Your eyes hopeful for what was to come, the butterflies in your stomach already erupting.

“I can do romance,” Steve murmured sweetly, voice rasp and low. A small smirk on his face as he lent into you, lips hovering a mere millimetre from your own. Your eyes fluttered closed as Steve pressed his lips to yours.

It was like fireworks with a hint of strawberry chapstick and cherry slushie all rolled into one. Steve’s lips were soft and slow, his hand on your cheek gentle and warm. It was a dream, really, you’d imagined this a thousand and one times but nothing you’d dreamt of would ever beat the real thing.

Steve Harrington was kissing you with his pretty pink lips and you weren’t imagining it this time.

You felt his nose press into your cheek as your fingers travelled into his soft brown locks, letting the strands glide between your digits. He hummed against your lips, his own forming into a smile as he pulled away from you slowly.

He pressed one, two more pecks to your lips before letting his nose brush against the slope of your own. His cheeks flushed and a dopey smile painted on his face. The boy was in heaven and he couldn’t help but let you know it.

“Jesus, Harrington! What took you so long?” You heard Robin yell from her perch on the dock, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles all whilst Steve groaned into your neck.

“Ignore her,” he mumbled against your skin at her teasing, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “so, you’ll be my girlfriend? I mean, you gotta after that mind-blowing kiss, surely.”

You swatted at his shoulder playfully, a bashful smile tugging at your lips, “I guess so,” you teased, “but you gotta take me on a date first, Harrington.”

Steve grinned as he leaned into you once more, noses nudging each other as his lips were barely touching your own, a whisper against your lips as he spoke,

“Deal.”

[hwan-g]

PUT ME IN A MOVIE 🤍 bang chan.

pair. videographer! chan x fem! reader (+ hyunjin) | genre. homemade spicy video, birthday sex, pwp basically, romance, angst | warnings. profanity, daddy kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, dom! chan, spit kink, jealousy | word count. 4.1k

synopsis. chan will show you—he can be anything you want him to be. do anything you want. in exchange for your compliance.

Bang Chan did not like celebrating his birthday. Turning older was no cause for celebration to him, nor would it ever be. Twenty-six, to be exact. Fuck him—where did the time go? Why does he still feel like an awkward teenager, stumbling his way through the years passing? Fucking ridiculous.

Nevertheless, he looked handsome as ever in the black attire you made him wear for this unwanted party, suit vest hugging his naked upper body in all the right places, hair slicked back and away from his sculpted face, save for a couple strands falling haphazardly over his honey eyes.

You wanted all the attention on him for his special night, thinking of the way he commands a room, how he seems to be front and center in all he does, everywhere he is. A natural leader, born for the spotlight.

Most of all, you couldn’t wait for him to fuck you in it after the two of you got home, arms flexing deliciously as he gripped your ass, flashed cock ramming into you from behind. You could never not think about sex with Chan—it was the only way to be as close as you’d ever get to him, a oneness like no other, a mixing of your souls.

Upon arriving at the club Changbin worked at as security, you were immediately greeted with all his friends and coworkers singing ‘Happy birthday’ to him, confetti exploding in glittery strips from every side, Jisung first in line holding a ridiculously decorated cake with exactly three candles on it, yelling at your boyfriend to hurry up and make a wish.

Chan squeezed your waist and brought you closer, grimacing at the grandness of it all. You hit his bare arm playfully, whispering for him to ‘play along.’ So, he did. He tried his best. He even clapped after blowing the melting wax, selling the whole damn thing to the max. Jisung was happy, bringing him in for a hug, music going back to something trendy, with a heavy beat.

“You fucking owe me for this,” he whispered to you later on, and you cupped his hardening cock over his pants in response.

You mostly stayed by his side for the duration of the night, the entire VIP section reserved just for the occasion. With Changbin and Minho currently on the clock, that left the wildest members of the gang with you, currently downing what is definitely past their tenth shot. Felix and Hyunjin were entirely too drunk, Jisung following close behind. Every time Chan was forced to come with them to places that served alcohol, nine times out of ten he ended up becoming their babysitter, making sure everyone drank enough water, and had a ride home.

In that way you understood his silent demeanor, musing over his glass of whiskey on the rocks, bitterly amused glances over to his friends and their shitfaced shenanigans. You watched too, mouth full of cake, but secretly hoped someone would eventually suggest dancing, just so that you’d get your chance to showcase your sparkly dress to your boyfriend, make him want to take it off of you later. Your money was on Hyunjin—he was always down to dance, to show off.

What no one expected was you having one two many cocktails. To your defense, you couldn’t even taste the pure rum in them, the juices and syrups concealing their deadly intentions. So, it was then, a stumbling you holding your empty glass up, announcing you were going for a refill, that the tall boy bit the bait and exclaimed he was coming as well. The ash blonde of his freshly chopped mullet turned into every color of the projecting lights. You wanted to touch it, taste the colors.

Of course, that was before Bang Chan sat your drunk ass down on his lap, and gave you a warning look, one that promised things too filthy, too taboo for the public to witness. He’d do them, though, for you, because of you, his eyes betrayed, if you went too far. If you disobeyed him, broke your promise.

“Behave,” he spoke gravely in your ear, voice deep and authoritative. “Stay close to Hyunjin, don’t let any other motherfucker touch you.”

You giggled at his breath tickling you, patting his head absentmindedly. “Don’t worry, daddy, I don’t like playing with no one but you.”

He chuckled, raising a brow at your cute state. With his hands on your hips, he dragged his lips on your cheek, resting them just a breath away from your mouth. You weren’t even aware you were dry humping his thigh, making his cock stir painfully in the pants you put him in.

“Oh, baby girl, you are so fucking drunk.”

You put a hand over your mouth, almost hitting his nose, and widened your eyes. Oops. Chan hesitated to let you go, but with a slap on your ass, he finally freed you from his tight grip, helping you stand.

“Okay, angel doll,” you called out to your partner in crime. “Let’s go! Hold onto me, I hold onto you.”

Hyunjin came close, closing his hand over yours, smiling lazily down at you. His fingers were sweaty, but the warmth was comforting albeit a tad bit dizzying. Together you maneuvered your way to the bar, squeezing through people, slurring excuse me’s and thank you’s, all the while giggling to yourselves.

“You haven’t been out with us in a while, sweetheart,” he comments while waiting for your order. “Remember Maneater? Your little strip show?”

You slap his shoulder, almost falling over in doing so. He steadies you by the elbows, making sure you’re okay before pulling away. It must be your inebriated state and that one threesome a few months back that made you sad to not have his touch on you. It was not a question of infidelity, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind about your feelings and your commitment to Chan. Hyunjin has just always been there, always blurred the lines, always up for anything.

“I missed you, too,” you confess, grabbing ahold of your drink, straw between your teeth before he could even have a chance to get his.

“Should we dance?” He suggests, wrapping a long arm around your waist. “Let’s dance, darling. I’ve missed your body on mine.”

In the most Bonnie & Clyde way, relying on your entrusted friendship, and without betraying your significant others—you felt the same. He’d been your clubbing buddy way before you got together with Chan, and certainly years before anything happened between him and Felix. For old time’s sake, if anything.

Rolling your hips with the beat, you rested your wrist on his shoulder, and swayed to the music. His knee slipped between your thighs as the two of you laughed over the DJ’s silly ad-libs, sweat dripping down your forehead, tasting it in the sweetness of your cocktails. Hyunjin’s slitted eyes followed your movements, tongue running over his full lips as he quickly snuck a glance over to your section, searching for the birthday boy.

He found himself staring back. His friend looked to be in a trance, focusing on the way your body swung and bent to the rhythm, a different man leading what’s his. That had always been Chan’s weakness—watching you with someone else, how you reacted, how you molded. It got him hard, yet enraged him like nothing else. A contradicting emotion, jealousy and desire. He’s taped you getting fucked by Hyunjin, has gone over it a thousand times, palm around his rock hard length, pumping himself off to the sound of your moans, elicited by someone other than him—he’s filmed it himself.

Hyunjin was the only person he’s let near you like that, the only man he trusts with his girl. Because you like him, because your little crush has always been obvious to him, but undiscovered to you. He considers this his birthday gift, watching as the taller guy leans into your neck, whispering things he’ll never know into your ear, earning a nod and another arm draped over his long shoulders.

What the fuck you’re doing to him—he’s gonna let it all out later, in front of the camera. He’s going to show you exactly what he thinks of you allowing another man to touch you, to feel you up.

“They’re getting a little too heated, bro, don’t you think?” Jisung comes to sit next to his older friend, clinking his glass against Chan’s.

Chan never takes his eyes off you, muscles clenching, unclenching, then clenching again. He kicks back the rest of his whiskey, pouring himself another one, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before gathering his thoughts enough to respond.

“Do you think it’d be happening if I didn’t let it happen, Han?”

The brown haired boy’s mouth falls open, the words registering in his brain. Oh. Oh. He’d never thought… well, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? He’s seen you with Hyunjin countless times, always entirely too close for two people that are just friends and have partners. Felix didn’t care, that much was clear, but for Chan—it was deliberate. It was pre planned.

“A freak, aren’t we, Channie?”

A deadly glare sent his way. “Shut the fuck up, Otaku motherfucker.”

Jisung raised his hands, laughing at the offense. “Touché.”

Getting up from his seat, Chan stretched his arms out in a circular motion, tilting his head from side to side, rubbing on his neck. What a long fucking night, and it was nowhere near done. If anything the fun won’t start until he grabs you and gets the fuck out of there, leaving everyone to their own luck. He was tired of taking care of them, tired of always having to be on top of things. All he wanted was to slip inside you, and lose himself completely. For the rest of his life preferably.

He neared your dancing figure, taking in the way your hips filled that dress, a midnight blue color that glittered under the club lighting, and made you look absolutely ethereal. Hyunjin was sipping from his drink when he noticed him, but instead of stepping back or moving away, he engulfed you in a protective hug, almost as if he didn’t want you taken away from him. Chan figured that could be the case; the two of you have always had a complicated relationship with unresolved feelings and repressed confessions. Too damn bad he sucked at sharing—if he wasn’t a possessive person, he’d definitely let you have your way. He’d give you anything you asked for.

His friend had a mischievous expression on, his smile up to no good. Chan played along, only for your sake.

“Fuck you, Chan, I was so close,” the pale haired boy pouted. “She was about to kiss me.”

You gasped, and started shaking your head dramatically, wiggling out of his arms and into your boyfriends. Chan wrapped himself around you, pressing his lips on the top of your head, swaying you softly to the music.

“I was not, daddy, I swear,” you said, and looked at him with big, innocent eyes.

Bang Chan just really enjoyed the way you felt against him, trapped with nowhere to go. He wanted you like this, always. Most of all, though—he needed to get you naked and moaning for him, he needed his fingers stretching that tight cunt of yours, he needed you alone. And your pet name for him; what started as a joke before the two of you had even slept together, his slip up of mentioning he had a kink, among other kinks, this one, and it made him instantly hard whenever it was so much as mentioned.

The way your tongue spoke that one word, the way it made him want to ruin you, his pretty fucking girl, and her naughty fucking mind.

“I’m sure you would’ve loved that, Hyun,” he says, an asshole smirk on his lips. “I apologize for stealing her from you.”

Somewhere between half truths and lying straight to his fucking face, Hyunjin crossed him with a dark stare, bangs no longer hiding the secrets underneath. His friend looked sharper, more menacing, eyes of a serpent, and that had an unmistakable death glare. Chan couldn’t find it in himself to get mad, nor did he particularly want to. He was confident in his position in your life, positive about your feelings for him. A part of him even understood and had sympathy for the gray haired boy—it must be fucking killing him to only have you in stolen moments like this, under supervision.

Seeing you turn around, Hyunjin’s face broke into a charming smile, those slits morphing into crescent moons. The softness in him was back, and Chan could see it was all for you. His smirk deepened.

“I’ll see you around, yeah sweetheart?” He spoke to you, coming to drop a kiss on your forehead, Chan releasing you ever so slightly for him to do so. An understanding passed between the two men, and they nodded at each other.

“I love you, angel doll!” You yelled after him, but he had already blended in with the crowd, disappearing from view. “Did I do something?” You frowned, your eyes still searching, before zooming in on your boyfriend.

Chan gave you a curt shake of his head, leaning back so he can take in your face. Glitter was smudging all over your cheeks, the coal around your orbs hypnotizing him, making his heart swell. “No, baby, it’s not you.”

You hummed, and gave him a peck on his bicep. “Should we go, then? I still haven’t given you your gift,” you smile, and it’s an invitation.

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be, my beautiful girl?”

You bring your hand next to your mouth and motion for him to come closer. He does. “A new camera.”

Your giddy giggle sends him over the edge. Clasping your hand in his, he doesn’t even go back to his friends, having had enough of them for one night. Instead, he makes it a straight shot to the exit, clapping Changbin’s back once, muttering a goodnight to him before bringing you in front of him, hands gently guiding you to his car.

Opening the door for you, Chan sticks you to him, leaning to kiss your exposed neck, licking the salty sweat off your skin, enjoying the scent you chose for the occasion. His favorite.

“I can’t fucking wait to have you bent over for me, angel.”

You squeezed your thighs together, that familiar ache coming back, numbing all your other senses.

Often times, Chan will pick up his camera and record you.

It’s a habit he’s had since he met you, something he does without much thought. You inspired him the most, changed his art, his style, his approach to videography. You became his muse. He’s followed you getting coffee, running errands, on date nights, or even taking off your makeup after a long day.

But his favorite fucking way to have you behind his beloved camera lenses—stripping for him. Taking off whatever is covering that magnificent fucking body of yours, with all those delicious curves, and breasts he loves teasing so much. But there have been other things, too, cruder things—coaxing you into masturbating for him, fingers hesitantly disappearing inside your dripping hole, your moans filling his ears, and the microphone on his device. Chan has filmed that slick pussy of his from every angle, has owned it over and over again, has every single sound it’s ever produced on tape, capturing, immortalizing his reason of existing forever.

This time is no different. Only thing—you’re drunk out of your mind. But if anything, that makes it all the more fun.

He unwraps his gift impatiently, taking it out of the box and turning it, inspecting it greedily. It’s a vintage camera, in black, something he’s wanted for a while now. He grabs you by the hair and gives you an open mouthed kiss, groaning into your lips in gratitude.

“I fucking love it, baby.”

You smile at his precious expression, all tenderness and adoration. “You’re welcome, daddy.”

Hair still tangled in his fingers, he brings your foreheads together for one intense second. You’ve never had to physically hear it, sometimes Chan could tell you telepathically, without saying a word:

I’m so fucking in love with you, my girl, no one will ever do it for me like you. You own my goddamn soul, my heart.

You blink back tears, as he presses his full lips on your temple. Then, he sits you down on his lap and starts working on his gift, turning it on, inserting both battery and memory card, trying it out in his big hand. You sit with your arms circled around his broad shoulders, watching him get excited over the resolution of the image, the colors and settings.

“How about you give me a little show, pretty thing?” He mutters in your cheek, voice an octave lower than usual. “Give me a twirl, yeah?” That thick Australian accent of his.

You comply, laughing the entire time you show off the dress you bought with the money he gave you, leaning over the kitchen counter, whirling around the living room, hands raised high in the air, the effect of the alcohol consumed very clear in the sloppiness of your movements. Chan loves it all, records everything. You’re a ballerina, a jazz dancer, a cabaret girl, his girl, his little dancer, and then finally his whore, as you fall over the back of the couch head first, legs hanging up in the air, dress riding up, showing the lace of your panties.

Chan leans back into the chair, one hand busy zooming into your juicy thighs, fingers sneaking their way over your wetness, and the other palming himself over his pants, his dick unbearably hard. He rubs through the fabric a couple times, watching you forgetting where you are, what you’re doing. When your middle finger presses on your clit, feet locking together, he loses it completely. Then you moan, a whiny, breathy sound that nearly makes him cum right then and there.

He jostles out of his seat, lurching forward.

“You’re going to make yourself feel good, baby?” He stands over you, mesmerized at the way you’re getting off, half asleep. He pushes your panties aside, curses at how slick your pussy looks. “Use those fingers, let me see you, angel, open up those folds for me.”

Like a puppet, you follow his words, letting him overtake, guide you through an orgasm. Chan doesn’t help you at all, only watches through his camera. Oh, fuck sweetheart, right there, press right there, I know that feels good for you baby, c’mon give me a good one, look at this fucking cunt, Christ I wanna fuck it numb, I want to fucking rip it apart, yeah, my little slut, goddamnit fucking look at you, you look so desperate, so hungry for cock. Do this for me, and I will reward you, baby girl. Come on.

Brushing over a specific bundle of nerves has you coming undone, your entire body shaking as you cream your fingers, and still —you don’t stop moving them, you go faster, moan louder. Chan has half a mind to fuck you right there, before taking you to his bedroom and pushing you on all fours over his mattress, drilling into you like that as well. He wants to ravage you, paint all of your walls white, fuck some kids into you, for fuck’s sake, what the fuck? You’re driving him insane, completely fucking mad, and so he caves, his desire stronger than his restraint.

“I wanna beat that pretty fucking cunt up, baby girl. Will you let me?”

You lift your head a bit to look at him. Your lips were bright red from being bitten, eyes fucked out, sleepy. You moaned, delirious, and rolled your hips. Chan’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He pulled you up by your wrist, bringing those fingers in his mouth, tongue licking your juices clean, sucking on the middle finger that was deep inside where he wishes to be, all the while never dropping his gaze from yours.

“Unbuckle my belt, sweetheart,” he prompts you, and you do, unzipping his black pants, hand reaching inside his briefs.

Upon contact, Chan growls, and pulls you in by the nape of your neck for a kiss. He keeps you there, his hold tight, strained, as your palm pumps his length, the aching in the pit of his stomach growing into a full on pain. He halts your movement, and pushes you back down, getting on his knees to spit on your entrance, his hand smearing it all over, fingers dipping inside you just once, getting you ready for him.

“Please, Chan, I can’t take it anymore…”

Chan chuckles darkly, and can’t help himself—he licks one long strip from your hole to your clit, sucking it into his mouth, camera forgotten. The wet sounds you make, and your intoxicating smell all bring tears in his eyes, the dire need to get inside of you killing him, warning him.

“Tell me, angel. Beg for me,” he wipes at his eyes, getting up, camera on the ready as he teases both you and himself with his angry tip.

“I want you to fuck me. Please, please, please, please...” your word all blur into each other, as your legs bring him closer, wrapping around his thighs.

Chan smiles. His needy girl, his cockslut. “Please what, pretty girl?” He slides his entire length over your pussy, slicking himself with your cream, hissing at the contact. “Say it and I’ll give it to you, baby, you know I will.”

You whine, and it’s adorable, it’s the hottest thing he’s heard. His ego swells, as does his dick, and he pushes in just a bit, just to prove his point.

“Daddy, please stop torturing me!”

He buries himself inside with one long stroke, bottoming out, and almost dies right there, on top of you. He tilts the camera down, a clear shot of your pussy enveloping his thick cock, and hisses, hand grabbing your waist to pull you on his girth.

“Fucking Heaven—there’s no better place than your pussy, baby girl. My pussy,” he groans, slamming into you again, and again, and again. “Say it, goddamn you, say it’s my pussy.”

You’re overridden by pleasure, can barely talk. “Your pussy, daddy, only yours, fuck me, fuck me, please, fuck.”

He throws the device on the couch next to you, and grabs your sides with both hands, digging into you, this angle hitting you perfectly, your back arching in just the right way. And even then, Chan doesn’t think it’s enough, he lifts your ass and slams you on his cock until you’re coming all over him, until you’re begging him to stop, he’s killing you, he’s ripping you open.

He doesn’t fucking stop, how can he? Look at you. Instead he envelops you in his arms and picks you up from the couch, walking you to the nearest wall. With your back on the cool surface, he resumes his pounding, lips on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, biting, sucking, hot breath panting in your face. You take it all, you fucking love him unhinged like this, lost in his mission for release.

“You’re going to come for me, daddy? You’re going to spill inside me?” You prod him, sweating, barely holding onto him.

His face scrunches in exhaustion, those arched brows coming together, transforming his face—your boyfriend, so handsome, so buff, all yours, fucking you against the living room wall of his apartment, his dick deep inside you, spurting his cum in thick, hot strips, straight in your womb, warming you up, making you all sticky and cock hungry.

No one has ever made you act as vulgar as Bang Chan. What he elicits out of you—it’s indescribable; you’d be anything for him, anything he wanted, anything he asked of you. And you have, you’ve never disappointed. His veiny hands squeeze your ass as his thrusts slow down, his breathing extremely labored, what once was slicked back hair now a mess on top of his head, all because of you.

You kiss the chest exposed underneath the suit vest, and wait for him to calm down, for his heart rate to come back to normal, for his mind to stop running, and you whisper to him—come back, come back to me Channie, it’s okay, fuck that was amazing, no one can fuck me like you do, and do you promise?

I swear, daddy. Cross my heart and hope to die. No one.

“I love you, baby girl. I love you like no other.”

tags. @ughbehavior (@straywrds), @cb97percent, @lix-ables, @j-0ne25, @hellishmoons, @hyun-bun, @skz317cb97, @koorminii, @americanokisses, @choinsaw, @danyxthirstae01.

[jazminrhode1]

Hey Google, Play 'Begin Again' Matt Sturniolo x Reader One Shot

Summary: You go on your first date with Matt after a bad breakup.

Word Count: 1648 words

Hey Google, Play 'Begin Again' (Part 2)

You took a deep breath as you looked in the rearview mirror. It had been 6 months since you broke up with your ex and you still didn’t feel ready to get back into dating. Your best friend Taylor reminded you that Matt was a great guy and that you would have fun. You were doing this for her.

You parked around the corner from the cafe where you were going to meet and took your time as you walked over. Your ex was incapable of being anywhere on time and that was the standard that you held for all men. You wouldn't put it past Matt if he didn’t show up at all. Men sucked. You were certain of that.

As you walked past the window toward the door you could see Matt sitting inside, waiting. You had met a couple of times but, you never realized just how attractive he was. He was wearing a Let’s Trip t-shirt, some black cargo pants, and a backward cap. You sent Taylor a quick text before you went inside. “Here goes nothing...” was all it said.

Matt looked up when the bell chimed as you entered. He stood and waved - a charming grin on his face. For a Saturday afternoon, the cafe was pretty empty. Instead of a murmur of incoherent chatter, you could have listened to every conversation if you really wanted to.

As you walked over to him, he welcomed you with a hug and pulled out a chair for you to sit down. You could tell that he had no idea just how nice that was; how much you appreciated it.

“It’s so great to see you, y/n” he started as he sat opposite you. His small talk was endearing, his stories were funny and you felt guilty for having come prepared with 3 or 4 excuses in case you had to make a swift exit.

“I haven’t ordered. What can I get you?” he asked. You insisted on ordering for yourself. If this was going to go south like all the other first dates Taylor set you up on since the breakup, you didn’t want to give him anything to use against you.

As you stood in line and scanned the menu, you saw him reach into his pocket. You thought he was pulling his phone out to text a friend or scroll through Instagram but, he was only pulling his card out of his phone case. Another point for Matthew Sturniolo.

It was times like this that you realized how much your scumbag of an ex fucked you up. Matt was nice, anyone would have told you that but still, you assumed he had bad intentions.

As you stood in the line, he kept sneaking glimpses of you. You couldn't help yourself from blushing a little bit, he almost convinced you that he was happy to be there. “Taylor said your favorite drink was a pink drink,” he said. “I’m not that basic” you replied, kind of offended. He was still smiling as he nudged you playfully. “I’m not gonna lie, they’re pretty good,” he assured you.

He was right. They were pretty freaking good and it was your favorite drink but, to avoid looking like a basic bitch, you just ordered yourself an iced coffee.

When you both had your drinks, you headed back to the table and he pulled out your chair once again. You weren’t sure if this was all an act but, you wanted to believe this was just who he was.

He surprised you. You had seen a couple of his videos and spoken to him in passing from time to time but, you didn’t really know all that much about him. The guy in front of you wasn’t the shy, reserved triplet you saw on YouTube and all over your TikTok. He was charismatic, and his stories were funny and you were taken aback by how kind he was even when he made fun of his brothers.

He asked you about your job, your family, and the places you'd traveled to recently. He told you about his parents and what it was like growing up as a triplet. He seemed to have a laundry list of stories about shit he did as a kid and what they had been up to in LA. All of the stories that you had to share involved the boy who broke your heart 6 months ago and you didn’t think now was the time to bring him up.

He looked into your eyes and smiled, you didn't realize how blue they were. You could tell he was searching for something. Wondering why, perhaps, you were a little reserved. He didn't push it or hold it against you. You appreciated that.

“What do you do for fun?” he said, leaning forward to show his interest.

“Oh… Um… I read a bit,” you said. You knew enough about the triplets to know that they did not read and you were keen to change the conversation before he completely turned off of you.

To your surprise, he replied, “My Mom loves reading. Maybe you have a recommendation for her?”

You were floored. Your ex never showed interest in any of your hobbies let alone your book obsession. He never made an effort to remember your birthday let alone ask for a book recommendation for his mom. Though you weren’t quite ready to accept it, you thought that Matt might be different from the others.

You told him about the three books you had already read that month. He seemed interested and genuinely excited to hear more about them. He propped his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, and listened to you word vomit for almost half an hour.

“Shit,” you said as you looked at your phone. “What?” he asked, confused.

“I didn’t realize the time” you commented. He looked at the clock on the wall, “I guess we're just having a good time” he responded.

Not a waste of time. Not a boring time. He was having a ‘good’ time and so were you.

You figured it was time to let him talk so, you asked the question. “What do you do for fun?”

Excitement changed his whole demeanor. “Do you play Pokemon Go?” he asked. Something childlike and enchanting came over him.

You shook your head slowly and couldn't hold back a laugh. You weren’t laughing at him, you were amazed at how comfortable he was just being himself. That was something that you began to admire about him.

As you tried to stop laughing you let out a snort. Fuck. Your face turned bright red as you clapped your hand over your mouth and nose. He was laughing too. Not at you but, with you.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you said. You couldn’t hide it. “Don’t be,” he reassured you as he reached out and rubbed her arm comfortingly. You made some joke to cover up your humiliation and he threw his head back laughing. Your ex never thought you were funny.

As the cafe employee came over to clear the table you realized that you had been here nearly 5 hours. The time flew by and you didn’t even need to whip out one of your carefully curated excuses to leave. But, you did have to go. You had work in the morning and you lived all the way on the other side of LA.

Matt waved at the employees as he followed you out. “Thanks, guys, see you next time,” he said. Another thing that your ex would have never ever done. You knew that he had noticed you were a bit more reserved than usual and you contemplated explaining yourself. You didn’t know how much Taylor had told him and you didn’t want him to think you were rude. Especially since you had a great afternoon with him.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he said. Before you could explain or apologize, he started telling you about the series that he and his brothers were watching on Netflix. It was something with police or cars or a cartoon - you had no interest but, he was getting really into it.

When you got to your car, he looked disappointed. You were too. For the first time in 6 months, you had enjoyed someone’s company. You had barely thought about your ex and it was all thanks to him. Even if this didn't go anywhere, you were thankful to have spent this time with him.

“I had a really great time, y/n, I'm glad we got to link up,” Matt said. There it was again. No games, no bullshit. He said what he felt with such ease, that it caught you off guard.

“I had a great time too,” you replied.

You both stood there awkwardly for a second before he opened his arms and pulled you into a hug. “We should do it again sometime,” he said as he stepped back and buried his hands into his pockets, “you have my number. Let me know when we can hang out again.”

He smiled. For the first time since your breakup, maybe even longer, you felt butterflies swarm your stomach. You blushed as you turned to get in the car. He waited to wave goodbye as you pulled out of your spot. You could see him waving in your rearview mirror as you drove away.

On the drive home, you couldn’t help but think about Matt, not your ex but, Matt. For the last 6 months, you thought all relationships brought were pain and heartache and that all men were the same. But, Matt may have begun to change your mind.

As you pulled into your driveway, Taylor was blowing up your phone. A smile spread across your face. This was going to be the first time in a while that you’d be filling her in on a boy that you liked, a boy who treated you well and who was kind, and who was not the idiot that broke your heart.