#love when i see a big snail

[pocketss]

happy old gnoll

[snails-in-spaceships]

Sobbing my eyes out at Jujustsu kaisen ep 44 until ~18 mins when Todo used Itadori as a fucking projectile

Spoilers in the tags because I need to talk about this episode oml

[thenarrativefoil]

╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯ she is so beautiful!! now it's just water changes and testing until it gets perfectly balanced. I can take my time picking up plants and finding a sunrise/sunset light.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

they dont tell you enough about the human capacity for investment and storytelling that comes with mundane adult routine

i am so invested in the lives of all five of the baristas who work at the cafe i go to to write every week AND the strange man who is always sitting on a bench when i walk my dog at night. they are like brothers to me

[gothgamergaara]

Just remembered cock exists…

[summerssover]

i feel like you would absolutely kill cheerleader girlfriend and dom jock matt (i love your writing and account 🤍)

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 ⊹ ִֶָ ❲ 𝘫𝘰𝘤𝘬!𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭❳

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, its senior night for you and matt and he looks a little too good for you to handle

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, suggestive content, language

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, jock!matt x cheerleader!reader, matt x poc!reader, established relationship

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙖𝙥𝙨!

i’m literally half asleep right now but i hope you like this. thank you pooks in my inbox it’s always open so send requests yall 🩷

▐ ❝𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐘𝐎𝐔❞

𓏲 🎀🍦 𓂃 ✦ 🪩

you felt like your were going to faint. you knew matt was a whore for attention when it came to his sport, but tonight he was outdoing himself. the stands were packed with family, some faculty of the school, and fellow classmates, an alarming amount of them drooling over your boyfriend as well as his brother.

you stood on the side lines cheering the lacrosse team on as they were about to win their last game of the season. you’d been fucking up on cheers all night due to the entertainment running up and down the field. something had to be in the air because there was no way he had you gagged this bad (😝)

matt was a rough player. the way he would harshly shove his opponents out of the way for the ball to land perfectly in his racket or when he would dodge and trip the other players, making them fall to the ground all while successfully making a goal gave him such a rush and all of the supporters in the stans that cheered his name stroked his ego but the true prize he had his mind set on was you. he couldn’t wait to get this over with and hear you screaming his name. that was the only thing that could top the feeling that he was feeling now.

the team now took a time out while you entertained the crowd by being tossed and spun around in the air, smiling and waving to everyone in the stans. matt rested around the sidelines, focusing on regulating his heart rate and getting some air. he took off his gloves and helmet with ease then ran his fingers through his hair, his chest moving up and down from his heavy breathing, and to add the cherry on top, matt lifted up his long sleeve shirt revealing his small waist and snail trail that weirdly resembled an arrow or maybe it was just you. either way it went he was such a slut.

your eyes scanned the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time, looking for who was just as mesmerized as you until you felt a light push to your shoulder, bringing back to reality.

“yn, you okay girl?”

you turned to look at one of your teammates before realizing you were just standing on the sidelines looking off into space. your cheeks start to warm up with a faint hue of red. “my man looks so good tonight” you brought your hands to your cheeks as you danced in place a little.

you and your teammate turned to face the other side of the field one more time only to see matt already grinning at you while he put his gloves back on.

“ouu, girl you better lock him up” she laughed out and leaned into you, expecting you to join in but you gave her a quick side eye before continuing. you were used to those type of comments all day at school and would go crazy if you made a big deal about every one.

the sound of loud buzzing rung letting everyone know that it was now halftime. you and two of your friends on the team made your way to the concessions and ordered two packs of skittles and a blue and white powerade.

before you went back to the sidelines you handed your stuff to one of your friends and met matt in the middle. you could see him leaning against the brick wall, waiting patiently to spend just a little time with you.

grabbing his hand and jerking him to face you, you scold, “what are you trying to do?”

matt looks down at you in confusion and pulls you into his chest with his feee hand. “yea, thank you for noticing how hard i’m working baby, i do it for you” he tease and rocks you guys in place.

you playfully push away from him and shrike, “you actually smell so foul right now, matt”

he begins to laugh and you turned you face up even more while holding your hand up to his chest. “that’s not fucking funny, you need to do something about that”

“well it’s not like i’m in the middle of a game or anything”

you giggled like a little girl, it didn’t matter how long yall’ve know each, he’s never failed to get you all railed up and insides fluttering. it was just an affect he’s always had on you. “shut up, but i am really impressed with you, you’re playing really good tonight” you compliment before planting a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth.

matt couldn’t help but grin, he strived for your approval and to know that he’s your number one brings him so much joy. “thank you” he giggled out as well.

“who are you showing off for?” you question in a playful manner. there was only one right answer anyways you just wanted to hear him say it.

matt smacks his teeth before responding, “you’re crazy to even think that i’m worrying about anyone but you. i see you over there, short ass skirt” he muttered the last part while his hands moved lower, lifting the ruffles of your skirt up and grabbing a hand full of ass underneath.

you shared one passion filled kiss before he broke away. “d’you get my snacks babe?”

you chuckled as you nodded your head “yea, i got em’ right before coming over here”

“alright thank you, love you, i gotta’ go”

he grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a sloppy, wet kiss. the type of kiss that always resulted in you laying on his bed, spread wide open.

matt disconnected your lips, still holding your neck in his hand, he whispered, “my parents are here, unroll your fucking skirt” before jogging into the distance.

he left you speechless, knees surely buckling under you at any moment with a damp patch only growing in your panties by the second and a little embarrassed. you didn’t even want to finish the night out, the only thing on your mind was tearing the jersey clean off of his back.

you looked at your phone, responding to texts about where you were as you squeezed your legs together to stop your pussy from throbbing.

chris didn’t fail to send you little smirks and glares when he passed you on the field and when he could he would use his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face more often just to fuck with you.

finally came the end of forth quarter. chris scored the winning goal with an assist from matt and now it was time to present the seniors to the crowd. the list of names dragged on till you finally heard the ref call matt’s and chris’ name.

you loudly cheer and clapped with the rest of the crowd and managed to snap a few pictures of chris as he wore the cutest girn on his face with an arm wrapped around his moms shoulder. once the sports photographers were done snapping their pictures chris parted ways with parents and made his way down the field towards you.

you stood waiting from him to say whatever it was that would pop into his head but instead he deadpanned to you then briefly pointed to the path you normally took to get to the locker room without being questioned.

one of matt’s teammates talked your head off as you leaned against the brick wall, waiting for him to change into his clothes. you began to get impatient and hot again and this guy couldn’t get the hint that you were not up to converse. your mind was too busy being consumed with thoughts of matt throwing you around and having his way with you.

“so can i get your snap?” the guy brought you out your head before you blinked back at the phone in your face.

“sorry, what?”

before the boy had anytime to repeat himself, matt had appeared as if he was summoned at the moment and threw an arm over you shoulder. “you’re good, bro” matt waved him off before continuing to his car.

“was that a fun conversation?” he asked teasingly and brung his face closer to yours. “you gonna’ get him to fuck you tonight, baby?”

you rolled your eyes and chuckled, “please, matt i don’t even know what he was talking about, you were all i could think of” you sweet talked him and pulled him in for a kiss by the cheeks. matt was the first to pull away.

“you’ll be saying please alright” he grinned down at you then connected your lips again. by now you two were standing on the passenger side of the car, just chatting.

“why are you in such a grumpy mood right now, big matt won the game”

matt shook his head at your attempt to distract him. “first of all big matt is fucking insane, don’t ever say it again and it might be cause i could see your whole ass from across the field” he emphasized. 

you only rolled your eyes and went to wrap your arms around matt’s neck. “you’re so dramatic.. d’you know that? let’s just focus on getting home so we can celebrate your win, i’m so proud of you”

matt huffed as he opened the passenger door and waited for you to get in. the door shut loudly as you smoothed out your skirt and matt putt his bag in the back seat before hopping in the front and starting the car. as soon as you heard the rev of the engine you attached your phone to the aux a play you and matt’s playlist.

matt turned the a/c on, needing a relief from the humidity of the late spring air. matt began to pull out of the parking lot after the sound of both seat belt clicking.

the car ride was filled with a comfortable silence. you watched matt as he concentrated on the road with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. he looked so good in the dim light and you loved the veins flexing in his arm from how tight he was gripping the steering wheel. it reminded you how his muscles would flex when he would move his fingers in and out of you to chase your high or when he squeezed his hands around your neck. you were so wet right now and the heat was getting unbearable.

you leaned back in the seat and spread your legs just a little. “baby can we hurry it up, i don’t know how long i can wait”

“just be patient, well be there in a bit” matt patted your thigh and put a heavier foot to the gas. he didn’t want to admit it but he’s was getting restless too and the way we’re squirming around in the seat didn’t make it any better.

you pushed your curls to the back of your head as you slumped down and pulled the short uniform all the way up to your waist. “i can’t wait anymore, please matt”

matt glanced over to you and a smirk grew on his face before looking back at the road. he grazed his finger over the now completely soaked underwear with his eyes still on the road. “please what?”

“please help me baby” your legs were spread out in the passenger seat at this point and matt stretched your panties to the side, a ripping sound could be heard in the process but there’s no way you could care at a time like this.

he used his thumb to play with your clit for a while and you let out soft moans but what you wanted was to feel full. you bucked your hips up at his hands letting him know that you wanted more as you approached a red light.

matt slowed down the car behind another one before putting the gear in park and turning his full attention to your leaking hole. he leaned over to spit on your pussy and his to fingers followed, now buried inside of you.

“ughh, shit matt” you noisily moaned, raising your legs in the air.

he brung the hand that was once on the wheel to your left knee to hold it in place while he drilled deep and fast into your tight entrance. his long fingers started to squeeze through your walls due to your excessive clenching around him, making a creamy white mess all over you and his fingers.

“yea, open that shit up princess” matt muttered and gazed at you. you were about to let out yet another moan before a car’s horn cut you off.

“oh shit” he shifted back in his seat and put the car back into drive without disconnecting his fingers from your cunt. you wrapped your arms around the head of the seat and whined as the cream continued to spill out of you.

“oh my, you’re so good”

your legs began to shake once matt’s soft palm rubs over your clit and his fingers still did it’s job of pumping and even twisting inside of you so well. your hand flew down to his to squeeze his wrist.

“right there, right there” your dragged out your words as they turned into incomprehensible screams. your juices squirted out onto the dashboard and windshield while your back arched off the seat.

he talked you through your high, “you got it baby, that’s all you”

you hummed at the overpowering sensation. your body couldn’t stop shaking and matt could’ve sworn he’s bitten a whole in his lip.

“holy shit baby” matt’s mouth flew open at the sight before him, your just squirted all over his car and your pussy over flowed with cum.

“sorry, i’ll clean it up” you sheepishly smiled and closed your legs as your tried to catch your breath.

you guys came to another red light, allowing matt to reach behind your seat to get a clean towel he had laying around to wipe you off.

“don’t apologize sweetheart, that was fucking beautiful”

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!- @worldlxvlys @ariieeesworld @muwapsturniolo @esioleren @sturn59 @maryx2xx (comment to be in the taglist!!!)

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

[pupcuck]

STRICTLY BUSINESS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. a lot of misogyny, sexual harassment, p in v, leon is a creep omg, dubious consent but she agrees ultimately 😭

note. HAII can’t bother to change my dividers despite the theme change .. not edited so please ignore mistakes! og re4 leon btw .. no other leon.. :3 honestly I will probably write a longer fic like this bc.. I didn’t make it fleshed out enough 😭 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Tuesday October 21st, 2004

“You’re kidding me, what a treat,” Leon Special Agent Kennedy still gets frisked when he steps foot into the BSAA headquarters. He’s done more for America than Washington ever did, and that guy’s on the dollar bill. You’d think that after rumours spread of you being bent over in the Oval Office, being the main suspect in a presidential affair, they’d give you more credit. “This is my favourite part.” He says, straight-faced.

“Kennedy,” Redfield’s smile is seething, more constipated than it is friendly, like the mere sight of Leon brings him immense pain. “Hands against the wall.”

“You want me to bend over too?” He asks, very seriously, because Leon is a good boy and he’ll do as he’s told. “I can bend over.”

“Think you’ve done enough of that.” Chris sees Leon as an invasive species of sorts. A snail that gets into the cabbage patch.

“You’re no fun.”

Chris calls out a name he hasn’t heard before, small hands land on his waist. It can’t be Redfield ‘cause his palms easily dwarf Leon’s waist, could wrap around it if they stretched far enough. He glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whoever has the honour of feeling him up.

“Eyes forward,” A less bullish voice commands, “Um, please, sir.” This is a girl, not a woman, but a girl. Women are his favourite, but he can make do with a girl if she’s cute enough.

“Must be my lucky day,” Leon hums in delight as you pat him down, “Oooh, are we doing a cavity search?”

“Well…” You pause, hands lingering over his calf, “I’m not really sure.”

“No.” Redfield grunts in his primitive way.

“No, no cavity search,” You confirm, “I’m… sorry.” You tell him, and you really should be, Leon loves having his cavity searched. Oral, anal, if he had a vaginal cavity he’s sure he would have fun with that too.

“You can go lower, sweetheart,” Leon bites his tongue when you ghost over his belt loops, “Grab my balls while you’re at it, I don’t mind.”

“Knock it off, Kennedy.” His first real warning, ‘cause Chris speaks in his Captain voice not in ape sounds.

“I’m kidding, you can take it easy, big guy.” His mind wanders as you touch him up, getting to his chest in which you find a flask tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, it’s confiscated promptly.

“Are you stupid?” Hunnigan asks, as his handler or glorified babysitter, she must accompany him to every teensy, little task. Her question is rhetorical, obviously.

“She’s just so sweet to me, I call her Honeygan.” Leon tells no one in particular.

“No you do not, Leon.” She says, cerebral and unfrisked, which begs the question of why only he gets borderline harassed on BSAA grounds. Not that he’s complaining.

“Hi there, cutie,” He doesn’t smile often for ladies, they like the whole brooding thing he’s got going on, but he really can’t hold it back. All teeth and everything. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Did you get lost, need help finding your mommy?”

“Kennedy,” Second warning, it goes unheard, or unprocessed, or rather Leon does not give a single shit.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” He puts his hands on his knees, like he’s crouched down talking to a toddler. “You look like a baby.”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Of course you are, lamb-faced and bright-eyed. That’s far too little. Then again, old enough to drink, old enough to suck dick. If a girl can knock back a shot, she’s likely to swallow - not spit.

“Oh, and do your Skechers light up, sweetheart?” You should be at home, burping a Baby Alive doll, pottering around an all-pink, plastic kitchenette. Doing things that girls do.

“What…?” You glance over at Chris cluelessly.

With this, he’s guided very forcefully by the scruff of his neck, his popped collar, to where the meeting is taking place. Chambers is there, and she’s grown within the last few years. She stretches back in her seat, her tiny tits jut out when her back bows. She hasn’t grown in that sense. You stand guard at the door in tactical gear, it’s like putting a spiked collar on a puppy and passing it off as a guard dog. He’d once thought of the BSAA to be pragmatic, they talk rationally while STRATCOM talk a lot of fancy shit in their Italian wool suits, but to put a young girl in charge of such a strenuous task? Leon takes it all back. They’re a bunch of brutes, hunched over sucking the meat from animal bones, girl bones even.

“Focus.” Valentine, bold and busty, sits beside him “She’s twenty-one.” Back off, is what she means. They’ve had brief encounters, but she’s a woman of few words, her sneer keeps him away as it does most men. She could use some dick.

Leon is well aware of your age considering you told him an hour or so prior. Like he said before, he likes women, not girls, but you’re certainly cute enough. “I know, too young.”

“She’s capable,” Jill shrugs, “Real brave kid,” This is the problem, it’s not bravery, it’s stupidity and Leon of all people knows the difference. Jill stands up when the meeting comes to its end, she’s the first to leave, pats your head on the way out.

The room clears out, you stand still and upright as he approaches. “After you, sir.”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon chides, “Ladies first, sweetheart.”

“After you, sir, I insist,” You’re getting impatient, antsy, “And please don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer? Babe, baby, honey, babycakes, sweetpea,” All the classics, “Sugartits?”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you.” You look at him with such discontent it makes him hard.

“Girls shouldn’t talk like that.” Leon stumbles slightly as you barge past him and exit. He finds it funny, he cracks another smile, shame no one’s here to see it, it’s quite beautiful really. His eyes follow the movement of your hips, the swell of your ass that’s hidden beneath those bulky cargos as you stomp off into the distance.

Monday November 1st, 2004

It sits on your desk like a harbinger of doom. A threat that signifies the end of the world, which is everyday in your field. This is the end of your life. No one else’s. This ostentatious display of affection is where it all starts.

“Nice flowers,” Piers comments, and it’s a totally innocent remark, because initially you had thought the exact same thing. How thoughtful, right? Flowers, tons of them, in all shades. You’re not a flowers kinda girl, but you’re not rude, you appreciate the gesture. That’s just how you’ve been raised, the vase mom bought you hasn’t been put to good use either.

You made the mistake of reading the card attached. In barely legible handwriting, all the swoops and loops throw you off, is that an E or a 3, it’s scrawled in leaky black ink that smears easily, crumpled it up the moment you saw who signed it off.

From his cokewhore nose to his insoles, you have no intentions of liaising with Agent Kennedy, much less going on a date with him. He might be charming from afar, but the moment he opens his mouth— oh, how you wish you could sever his tongue and put it in a jar. Might even go the extra mile to pickle it and feed it to him.

The note gets tossed in the trash, you attempt to dispose of the flowers the same way, stuffing them down into the bin beneath your desk. An incinerator would be preferred, but this will do for now. You’re shaking as you rid of them, rolling back your shoulders to relax, you can’t get him off of you. The scent of his biting cologne is in the back of your throat. It stings. He hasn’t done anything as of now, there’s just something about Leon that makes you uneasy.

Thursday November 4th, 2004

Stupid girl. You’re a stupid girl for thinking it was ever over, men like him persist until they wear you down, grind your bones into dust. Today it’s a box of decadent chocolates, you have to admit, they look good. Wasting food makes your gut ache with guilt so you place them on a table in the staff room.

“That’s not very nice, Godiva’s expensive.” Tight-lipped and repulsive, Agent Kennedy stands in the doorway. Why he’s here? You have no clue.

“Sir,” You fix your posture reflexively, “I appreciate it, I’m just not… a fan.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” Leon cocks his head to the side, the lack of mirth in his tone is chilling. “I waited for you on Monday.”

“I never accepted, sir.” You tell him, “I’m flattered, but I didn’t have time.” And you never will have time for a man like him.

“You didn’t show, I looked like an idiot, that sweater makes you look kinda big by the way,” He says breezily, slips it in seamlessly with his complaint.

You don’t register it, blinking at him dumbly. “I hardly think this is appropriate.”

“Sweetheart,” Leon cups your cheeks, his fingertips are icy on your burning skin, “I don’t go on a lot of dates, so you should count yourself lucky.”

“Sir, what're you doing here?” You question, trying so badly to bypass the system failure that’s taking place in your frazzled brain.

“I have some business, but that’s none of your business is it, cutie?” He taps your nose, “I think you’re too little to get it anyway. Y’know, you take orders well, I thought you’d be a good girl.”

“I’m not a dog,” You scowl.

“Smile, sweetheart, shouldn’t pull faces like that.” Leon pats your cheek, then he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he came.

Friday November 5th, 2004

Agent Kennedy is on the premises again, this leads to you ducking into doorways, turning sharp corners into endless corridors— Anything to escape his gaze unscathed. Unfortunately, running has never been your strong suit, it requires some agility, you’re a no-nonsense kind of girl, face the issue head on with your bare hands. You’re capable. So capable. You’re strong, and you have a gun. When your fists fail you, your gun sits cold on your hip. Not that shooting Leon S. Kennedy would ever be a good look in someone’s dossier, but it provides you with some relief.

“There you are,” Quiet, he emerges from the shadows like he materialised right then and there, Agent Kennedy is stealthy, you suppose, “I missed you,” He’s hot on your heels, the bitterness of his scent begins to cloud your mind, “You look good from back here, should wear a skirt more often.”

Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t speak. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, you fear he’d take it in stride, entertained by your outburst. Leon feeds on attention. He follows you for the entirety of your journey to the ladies room. “Sweetheart, speak to me.”

You’re a fool for thinking he has the decency to wait outside, let you do your business, and then once you return he can begin sweet-talking in your ear once more. Of course, Leon shoulders the door when it shuts on him, he jams his leg in the cubicle door when you try to lock him out. Too slow.

“Did you want to watch me piss, sir?” You ask, putting on your bravest face, as if your heart isn’t about to fall out of your ass and land on the floor with a wet smack. He scares you more than any virus-addled nutcase ever has.

“No,” Leon frowns, and it’s the first time he hasn’t had a witty remark, “Do you think I want to see that shit?” Oh, that offended him.

“I’m sorry for assuming, sir, but it’s just that you are,” You make a mild gesture at the toilet, “In the women’s restroom.”

“I know,” He’s still frowning, and you don’t like it. “I need something from you, babe.” Babe. Holy Mother of God, that’s worse than sweetheart, it sounds infinitely more sleazy.

“What can I do for you, sir? You got a kink?” Once more, you point to the toilet, the scumbag bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue wets his bottom lip as he hunkers down to press his pointy nose to yours. You hear him sniff around in the crook of your neck, like he’s chasing white lines without a straw.

You’re brave. You’re capable, so capable, Miss Valentine has told you the same. What would she do? What would she do? Quick-thinking, improvising, it’s not your thing— Your fingers itch to take out your gun and press it to his temple. Your own temple at this point.

Leon isn’t stupid, he takes your hand, brushing your knuckles with his lips, then he forces you to face the wall. “Hands on the wall, babe, it’s my turn.”

“Sir,” The argument dies as quickly as it comes to mind, fizzling out on your tongue.

“I won’t hurt you, babe, I know you’re little.” He almost coos, fingers tracing over your shoulder blades, then your spine, then his thumbs slot into your back dimples. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, it doesn’t look right, holding guns and shit— You’re too pretty for that, I bet it hurts your arms, don’t it? Oh, you poor thing. I really care about these things, I’m a feminist, sweetheart.”

No. No, you’re strong, you’re well trained— You’re the best Captain Redfield has to offer. “Mr. Kennedy, please, I’m sorry about the date.” There’s a warmth that presses to your back, “It was an honest mistake—“ His dick, he’s got his fucking pig dick on your back. “Get off of me.” Yes, you’re trained in combat, but against him, admittedly you have nothing on him. And it pisses you off more than his dick does.

“Cool it, babe,” Leon takes your wrists in his hand, keeping them behind your back, you hear him spit on his cock from above. The shlick, shlick, shlick of his wet dick being pumped has the acid in your stomach reacting badly with your lunch. “You’re hot, you ever think of going into porn?” Agent Kennedy is whiny during sex it seems, his voice gets airy, you take some amusement in that. As much amusement as you can in this type of scenario.

“I think you’re disgusting, sir,” Wetness splatters over the back of your sleeveless turtleneck, it soaks into the fabric. Leon kisses the nape of your neck, he tucks his cock away, wipes the sweat from his brow and leaves like he was never there in the first place.

The panic sets in a good five minutes later. He’s made you dirty, in a frenzy, you tear off your shirt in the public restroom, dunking it under the sink to wash it clean. A few ladies filter in and out, ask if you’re okay when they see you in your bra, scrubbing like a mad woman.

You smile your best smile, it’s your worst smile. The hand dryer does little to help you out, even when you wring and ring the fabric into the sink basin, all excess water and cum running down the drain, it’s weak. It’s hard to care in this state, hands trembling as you put it back on, the wetness only reminds you of him, it’s black so unless someone has the pleasure of bumping up against you - it’s likely no one will notice.

Visiting HR is new to you, the elevator dings and you step out onto a floor that’s entirely alien. With a foggy mind it’s harder to navigate the rooms, the people, the desks. A pretty lady leads you to the right place, an even prettier lady sits behind a desk. Her face is weathered, slightly mean, but she’s kind when she smiles.

“I’d like to report… I’d like to report,” Your hands are braced flat on the desk, slumped forward, “To report… I want to…”

Her smile is kinder this time, laced with sympathy, “Take your time, sweetheart,” No, don’t call me that, she takes note of how you bristle, “Take a seat and calm down, alright?”

“No,” You shake your head, insistent on getting it out here and now, “Special Agent Kennedy, Leon Kennedy, Leon Scott Kennedy, I want to report him for… I want to report him for— “

“Sweetie,” The lady, sympathetic once more, takes your hand, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“What? Why? You don’t understand, he—“

“Agent Kennedy, he doesn’t work here, he’s not in our database, and taking it up with STRATCOM, well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.”

“Right,” How stupid can you be? Stupid fucking asshole. It isn’t even a loophole, it’s just totally legal, you can’t do anything. “Right, of course, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Babe, there you are,” Leon revels in your jumpiness, it’s cute. Girls are cuter when they’re shy, when they need a big, strong man to keep ‘em safe. Stoicism doesn’t suit you, anxiety does, it makes your eyes glimmer in the same way Botticelli angels do, your lashes have no end to them. “I missed you.”

“Aren’t you busy saving the world and all, sir?” Still feisty, if it were up to Leon, he’d fuck you silly. Get it all out of you.

“You’re funny,” He says dryly, lips forming a line, “How about that date?”

Rather than exasperation like he had expected, there’s astoundment. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Duh,” Leon nods, “I thought about it, cutie, I’m happy to give you a second chance.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking— Do you seriously think I would ever say yes to you?” Your brows furrow, they need a clean up, nothing some tweezers can’t fix, he’d have to sort out those forehead wrinkles too, you’re much too young for that.

“Nobody says no to me,” Leon responds with ease, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I really thought we had something.” His lips twitch, it’s painfully easy to rile you up. The temper is funny short-term, but long-term not quite as much.

“We,” You point at him, then at yourself, “We have nothing, sir, and if you touch me again, I swear on my life I’ll—“

“What will you do, sweetheart? Cry to your mommy about it?” He edges closer to you, till your sides are warm in his hands, “Little girls shouldn’t talk big, you don’t get to call the shots.”

“I’m not, I’m not a little girl, but you’re a fucking creep, and I will tell Captain Redfield, I will tell him.” And he’ll deal with you, Leon guesses. Stupid little girl, as if Mr. President would let a prick from the BSAA land a hit on his most prized possession, other than First Daughter Ashley Graham.

“See, baby? You can’t handle anything on your own, you’re too little.” He smiles, if your balled up fists say anything, it’s obnoxiously smug, “Oh, are you getting angry at me, baby? That’s no good, why don’t you smile for me?” Leon uses his thumbs to forcefully stretch your cheeks upwards, “C’mon, babe, smile for me.”

“Get off of me,” You twist out of his grip, pumps click-clacking as you desperately try to escape him, but it’s clear you’re new to them, getting the heel caught in each crack— Leon could do better.

“They make your legs look great,” He whistles, never less than a step behind, “Think you should wear ‘em everyday, field work ain’t all that, y’know? I could get you a job over in my building, filing and shit, could wear a skirt everyday.”

“Sir, do you ever shut up?” Comes your shaky yet clipped reply.

“I got plenty more where that came from, babe,” Leon says shamelessly, “Let me take you home, sweetheart, I’ll show you a good time.”

You shiver at the mere thought, shoulders lifting to your ears as you shake yourself off. Leon grabs you from behind once more, this time he’s got a handful of your tits. Without that bulletproof vest, you’ve got a great figure, shit made you square. This pencil skirt and turtleneck combo is flattering, and Leon has to admit, he’s always had a thing for office wear.

To your credit, you put up a good fight, a few more years of training and you would knock Leon flat onto his ass. That’s why he’s gotta save you while he can, girls shouldn’t get to that point. Especially not ones like you. “I’ll leave you alone, sweetheart, if you just give it to me once.” His lies are convincing, he takes your silence as consideration to his offer.

“Once,” You repeat, “Just once?”

“Just once.”

“I’ll bite it off.” You claim.

“Sure you will, babe.” Leon snickers, and because he’s Special Agent Kennedy, he gets his way. Through determination, blood, sweat, tears and a load of cum.

“Keep those on,” He tells you, nodding his head towards your heels as the two of you enter his apartment. “Take that off, and the skirt too.” Leon instructs, and you do as he says, “Good girl.”

He gives you a once over. Not bad. There’s always tweaks that could be made, while all women are beautiful to him, it comes natural to most, they could still be better. Perkier tits, shapely legs, nicer ass— Y’know, you could work on it.

“C’mere, cutie,” Leon pats his lap, begrudgingly you oblige, the mattress sinks with your combined weight. He snaps your bra strap, it pings back on your supple skin, then he reaches back to unhook it. Yeah, Leon can do it one go, you might not look impressed, but he knows you are deep down. “Look at that.” These tits, they have no room on the battlefield, seriously. He squeezes them, the fat spills past his fingers, the BSAA can’t be risking such valuable assets.

He can’t pinpoint your exact feelings, there’s irritation on your face, but when he lays you down, spreads you open, there’s a wet patch on your panties that’s telling of your true nature as a girl. It’s just primal instinct, right? Getting wet when there’s a handsome man groping you. “Aw, I told you we’d have fun, baby.” Leon takes your limp legs, tossing them over his shoulders, he slips your panties off, disappointment floods his system when he sees you’re not shaven bare. He’ll have to skip giving head then. Which is a shame, ‘cause most times it’s fun to see girls squirm on his tongue.

The pad of his thumb meets your clit, he dips downwards past your folds to gather some slick, smears it back over your bud. Part of him wants a taste, his fingers aren’t enough, Leon wants it straight from the source itself. Though it’s totally against his code of conduct, his tongue laves over your spread pussy once. He doesn’t let himself get carried away.

Instead, Leon opens you up around his fingers, scissors them into your tight hole to stretch you out. He keeps his thumb rubbing over your clit, he’s good at multitasking, and it’s the only thing that gets you whimpering, though most of it is muffled into your fist. He deems you wet enough, or he’s just very impatient, and it’s definitely the latter, Leon can admit it.

“You ready, babe?” Leon asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he slides into you, to the hilt, and raw. You let out a shuddering gasp as his cock knocks the fleshy opening of your cervix.

Then, you have the gall to ask, “Is it in yet, sir?” Despite the fact that you’re still trembling, shaken up by the sheer size of him. Leon can be humble, he knows it’s not that big, but for inexperienced little things like you it must be a real challenge. You take to it well, after the first few thrusts, the discomfort seems to fade, and your back arches against your will. A real cockslut born and bred.

He fills you up, fucks you like he wants to tear a hole through you, “You need to shut your mouth sometimes, sweetheart. I don’t know who raised you, but girls shouldn’t talk back like that.” Leon grips your jaw tight, forces it open so he can spit down your throat, much to his dismay you send the ball of spit hurtling back towards his face. He closes his eyes, hips stilling within you, then he brings his palm down on your cheek. It’s encouragement to behave.

You’re stunned, yelping sharply as he hits you once more, grinding deep into your wet cunt, the squelch gives you away. The way you’re sucking him in, like you’re a glutton for dick, how your hip bones smack into his each time you raise ‘em up— it's so clear you’re enjoying it. You like this, you like him, just needed a man to show you, to put you in your place.

Leon’s kind enough to keep pressing down on your bud, when he pulls out, your pussy clenched tight around the fat head of his cock, it begs him so sweetly to fill you up once more. He bottoms out, you jolt, legs slipping from his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. It’s then he’s reminded of your heels, they dig into his back, and your little hands come to rest on his ass to force him deeper and deeper, which Leon isn’t all that fond of, but you’re an unruly girl.

“Look how bad you want it.” Leon licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, “I knew it, baby, I knew you wanted it.” He drives his hips into you with such force, pussy gushing around him, your release trickles out of you with each thrust. “Messy girl.” He taunts, abdomen wet and his cock wetter.

You’re hit with aftershocks as he continues to pump into your sensitive pussy, clit twitching, he has enough sense to pull out. Leon isn’t an idiot. His cock rests heavy on your stomach, he urges you to take it in your hand, and you do. His hand wraps around yours, helps you jerk him off like you should’ve been glad to do in the restrooms earlier. “That’s it, you’re getting good at it, baby, you’re learning.” Leon’s load is sticky, shooting ropes of pearly white over your fingers, dripping down your wrist.

“Sir, this is it now, isn’t it?” You get down to business fast, acting like your pussy wasn’t springing a leak on his cock, “You’ll leave me alone now? If you don’t, I really will tell him, I will do something about it I swear on my fucking life.”

He says yes, but Leon is already thinking of what to send you next week. On Monday it might be a teddy bear, the ones that hold stuffed hearts in their stuffed arms. Tuesday, another bouquet, or a dress, a tight one that brings out your eyes. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, he has plenty of time to chase you again.

[luveline]

Hello! i love all of the spider girl and miguel work you have ahhh may i request a writing where they finally make it official? and how miguel would react when the rest of the spiders start asking or are shocked that he’s openly being more affectionate with her in public :)

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Everybody knows you and Miguel are together before you're officially together, but it's still a surprise for Peter B to find you both walking at a snail's pace toward the lab, hand in hand. 

"Can you fix it?" you're asking, oblivious to Peter B's shocked silence. You're a spider —you know he's there, you're just ignoring him. You and Miguel both are. 

"I'll get you a new one." 

"I like my phone," you say, Miguel a lovey-dovey smile. You're always soft on him, even when you first met and he treated you like a pest. "It's the first present you ever gave me."

"Ah, and I've never given you anything else." 

"That's not what I'm saying!" You swing his hand gallantly as you take a big step forward. Miguel is just tall enough to keep up without jogging. 

"Then what are you saying?" 

"I have, like, an attachment to it. The screen is smashed, not broken. I can get Peter KatKit to do it if you're too busy." 

Peter KatKit being one of your friends from another dimension (where KitKats are called KatKits, evidently). Peter B can physically see the moment the idea, the subliminal threat, loads in Miguel's mind. Miguel grabs you by the waist, your giggly yelping echoing between the atrium walls as he puts his lips against your neck and says, "My schedule's miraculously clear." 

You lean forward to escape him but Miguel follows, kissing and nipping at your skin if your breathless laughter is any indication. 

"Uh, guys?" Peter B says. 

"What?" Miguel asks impatiently. 

"I'm here?" 

"So?"

"So… You know. I can see you guys being gross together." Peter B shoves his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown. "Actually, it's kinda nice, but you guys like pretending you aren't all sick in love with each other. Figured you'd want a heads up."

"We're done pretending!" you say happily, leaning back into Miguel's chest. He accepts you with a straight face but his arms betray his agreement, wrapping around your front. "Miguel asked me to get married." 

"What?" Peter B asks. 

Miguel shakes his head. 

"Nah, I'm kidding. But he did tell me he loves me and he wants to be with me forever." 

Peter looks at Miguel, expecting a second head shake. He doesn't doubt that Miguel loves you, but he cannot imagine Miguel saying something so saccharinely sweet. 

Miguel doesn't shake this one off. 

You have the most smug, pretty smile on your face; you're glowing with how happy you feel, and Miguel isn't frowning for once, so despite any worries Peter B might have about your compatibility, he's thrilled for you. 

"Well, congratulations, kids," Peter B says. 

Miguel squeezes the crook of your arm. "Thanks, Peter." 

"You're welcome. Y/N, I'm pretty good with tech. I could take a look at your phone if you want? Fix it up?" 

"The position has been filled," Miguel says. He's definitely frowning now.

[junggunz]

lovin' on me |🔞

summary: I'm vanilla, baby. I don't like no whips and chains. cw: fembodied!reader | SMUT | pwp | fluff if you squint | sinu + breeding and daddy kink | jerry + size kink, sprinkling of service dom energy | jake + fwb to lovers | all characters featured are 18+ wc: 2.9k an: FIRST REQUEST FOR BIG BABY JERRY AHHHH. i couldnt help myself and added in some other daddies as a treat hehehe HAPPY VALENTINES DAY.

“I'LL CHOKE YOU BUT I AIN'T NO KILLER, BABY”

──★ ˙ ̟SINU HAN

Sinu lives for romance— of course he went all out on Valentine’s Day for you. From the little things like getting your shower started for you before you woke up so you didn’t have to wait for the water to warm up, putting your towel in the dryer then bringing it to you when you finished, and even ordering your favorite breakfast so you could start your day in the best mood. It’s hard to pick your favorite part of the day when it’s packed full of so many loving gestures that make you feel like you’re on top of the world.

Especially when it’s at the end of the day and you have Sinu rutting up into you and letting you feel every sweet inch of his thick cock filling you. The missionary position with him is the farthest thing from boring when every single one of his touches exudes so much passion. Hands glued to your hips while he pushes into you over and over, long hair disheveled as his head falls back with a honeyed moan at the sensation of your walls squeezing him so good; the two of you lost count of what round you were on now. So wrapped up in the embrace of pleasure, his sounds were starting to rival yours in volume. 

“F-fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good!” Sinu rasps out, heavy lidded eyes drifting down to your point of connection and watching the way your folds squeeze around the tip of his cock each time he draws his hips back and pushes back into you. “I could do this all night, you’re not getting tired are you?”

Given how eagerly your sloppy little hole was sucking up his length with even just the slightest of movements, it seemed like your body had become dependent on his touch; several orgasms in and you felt like there was no end in sight.

“Sinu, I’m so full…” You barely get out between little moans, your voice starting to go and dropping to a volume so quiet it was almost drowned out by the sinful slapping of skin on skin and the squelching wetness seeping out of you. “If we keep going like this, you’re going to end up a daddy for sure.” You warn with a weak laugh.

It’s a joke but it gets Sinu’s thrusts to become less sensual and more jerky; the pace not picking up speed and only increasing in intensity. You don’t know what causes the change in demeanor until you notice where his gaze had been fixated on. Lowering your eyes, you see his cock glistening with a mix of your juices with no clear demarcation of where you began and where he ended.

“Oh god, yes, I wanna be a daddy.” Sinu groans, pushing his length as deep as he can into you; the tip stiffly kissing your cervix before you feel warm ribbons of his seed adding to the existing mess inside you. 

His actions don’t stop there. Absolutely not. Being selfish was simply not a part of his prerogative. Shifting the angle of his thrusts slightly, his cock presses into the spongy soft spot within you that he had been well acquainted with. With a few calculated and carefully paced pushes into you, it doesn’t take much for your thighs to start trembling and your walls to start seizing up around his cock; squeezing so tightly it tempts him into spilling inside of you again. 

It’s a flurry of paradoxical sensations overwhelming your body; you feel like you’re on clouds but at the same time, your limbs are so limp and heavy. This orgasm is more intense than all the other ones; the pleasure burns so hot in your core it almost hurts and causes tears to roll down your cheeks and has you gasping about how good it feels. As Sinu helps you ride out the high, his strokes slow to a snail’s crawl and he’s gently kissing away the tears that escaped your eyes.

“You took it so well, baby. Did you like that?” He whispers softly.

“Yeah, it was great.” You say, blinking heavily up at him as the bleary filter over your vision dissipates. “But now I’m wondering if it’s being called daddy or the idea of getting me pregnant is what got you so riled up.” You giggle.

Sinu laughs along with you, leaning in to nuzzle his face against your neck.

“Aw, baby, you know everything about you turns me on.” He replies smoothly; however you did pose a valid point and it had Sinu wondering which one of the two excited him more. There was plenty of time to figure out, but for now, he would let you rest.

──★ ˙ ̟JERRY KWON On Valentines Day, you and Jerry had planned to take the next step in your relationship. Everyone who knew him was well aware of his teddy bear like personality that contrasted his outward appearance. Even with that in mind, you still didn’t know what to expect from him in the bedroom. 

Big hands wander over the soft curves of your body: rough palms with a tender touch. Jerry’s fingers are significantly thicker than your own when you feel them teasing the slick ring of your entrance and it drives you crazy. 

“Need you inside,” you whine.

“Just let me prep you, baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.” Jerry murmurs softly, two of his fingers exploring the heat of your slick walls in search of your sweet spot. “You can’t even take the whole thing like this…” He hums, focused on the task at hand and his other hand keeping a firm hold on your hip to prevent you from squirming away. 

As impatient as you were, Jerry was right. 

Earlier, you had felt the hard outline of his cock through his pants and caught a preview of what was to come; your mind a whirlwind of thoughts about how it would feel to have him filling you up. Despite his fingers carefully spreading apart your tight walls to prepare you, there was no way he was going to be an easy fit— but the anticipation of a pain laced pleasure had you getting even more excited around his digits. 

A calloused thumb presses against your swollen clit in tandem with the fingers stimulating your insides and the pleasure warming the pit of your tummy has you begging.

“Jerry, please…I need more. You promised you would give it to me.” You whimper, needily bucking your hips against his hand. 

He’s conflicted. He wants to please you. He wants to share this moment of intimacy with you. But even the idea of hurting you on accident terrifies him. That feeling only increases when you take matters into your own hands literally and hastily strip him out of his clothes before settling beneath him once again; the hot length of his cock settling on the outside of your pussy as he slides it over your folds. You’re so wet, it doesn’t take long until the underside of his shaft is thoroughly coated in your arousal but you’re also just so small beneath him. Maybe if the size difference between the two of you wasn’t so dramatic, he’d no problem treading the waters.

Teeth sinking into his lower lip nervously, Jerry looks down at you while continuing to glide his cock through your folds. Back and forth, the heavy tip nudges your clit with a delicious friction every time. Forward then back again, your wanton expression finally gets to him and he stops with his dick laid out against your stomach; pulsing and leaking precum onto your skin. 

“Are you ready?” Jerry asks quietly, a light blush warming up his cheeks. 

“Yes, please let me feel you inside.” You mewl, canting your hips up toward him and encouraging him to mount you. 

Clammy palms splayed on the back of your thighs, Jerry spreads them and pushes your thighs closer to your chest, seeing your folds absolutely soaked and swollen for him. The tip of his dick lingers around your fluttering entrance before pushing inside, just barely stretching your pussy around the thick head.

“Ah—fuck—” You both moan at the same time, breathing catching in your throat at the long awaited contact.

The first inch slips in and you can already feel the sting of his cock stretching your walls open. Jerry is shuddering and you’re whining; the feeling is too good and he’s grappling with his own selfish desire to push all the way in with a single thrust. Babbling about how tight and wet you are around his cock, each breathy word is said with so much pleasure that you find yourself deriving your own enjoyment from providing him with this ecstasy. It makes your insides weep and expand to take more of him, urging him to sink even deeper into your sopping wet cunt. 

By the time Jerry’s fully embedded within you, your insides are so tight and sensitive around him, you can feel each throb of his cock against your walls; even if it hurts a little you need to feel him move. And at this point, all of his anxiety has dissipated and it’s like he was primed for your instructions; listening to every single one of your pleas and delivering them with gusto. His body is desperate for your guidance, knowing that it would bring both of you to a new realm of pleasure. 

“Jerry, give me the whole thing.” You pant, noticing the remaining inch or two that wasn’t glistening with your juices. 

And of course, he obliges; you take it all the way in spite of the pinching feeling that has tears pricking your eyes and your toes curling. Guilt washes over Jerry when he sees the tears beading along your lash line but at this moment, he’s feeling too good to acknowledge anything else. The little devil on his shoulder tells him that you were the one who asked for it so he shouldn’t pay any mind to your jaw hanging open with tiny choked out gasps escaping with each undulating movement of his hips. 

“A-are you— are you okay?” Jerry stammers, trying to get a grip and tear away from the lust frenzied state threatening to take over him.

“Feels so good. Keep going.” You encourage him, locking your ankles around his waist and pulling him balls deep into your tight heat.

Limbs wrapped around him, you draw him closer for a kiss; successfully quieting any lingering worries about him hurting you. He had promised to give you whatever you wanted today; and fear was holding him back from fulfilling his duties. Luckily for the two of you, the night was still young and there was plenty of time for Jerry to give you the Valentine's Day you deserved.

──★ ˙ ̟JAKE KIM

A friends with benefits situation is the last thing Jake would have wanted; but if it was what he would have to endure in order to get some semblance of intimacy with you, then fine. You say you’re not romantic and don’t wanna deal with the expectations and disappointments of a relationship and all it does is make Jake want to try and change your mind. 

Valentine’s Day is just another day out of the year, so it doesn’t mean much to you when you call Jake to come over. It totally slips your mind that this holiday was the reason there was so much lingerie on sale at the department stores. And any possible implications of you wearing lingerie when Jake shows up at your place are the last thing on your radar. 

“Jake, don’t leave so many hickeys.” You whine, feeling the way his lips remained consistently latched on to the sensitive skin around your throat and clavicle; teeth scraping the surface every so often.

“Why not? You don’t want anyone to know that you weren’t alone on Valentine’s Day?” He laughs softly into your neck while his hands remain glued to your hips and gently rocks your body on his lap; relishing in the feeling of your walls hugging his shaft. 

A groan tickles the back of your throat, unsure if it was because of Jake’s comment or the fact your pussy was so tight around him, you can feel every throb and pulse of his cock inside of you. Ignoring his question, you let out a shaky sigh as you pick up your hips until just the tip of his cock remained inside before you sink back down on him, taking every inch to the hilt and feeling his full balls press up against your ass. 

“You wore lingerie for me, you can’t tell me that you forgot what day it was.” Jake teases, lips leaving the column of your throat as he looks at you with a cheeky smirk, his fingers dancing along the lace edge of the sheer chemise you had on. The dainty and airy fabric fluttered with each of your movements, adding to the already stimulating visual of you needily fucking yourself on Jake’s cock.  

“Jake, just shut up so I can focus.” You mutter, planting both your hands on his chest before you push him to lay flat on the bed, now riding him harder and faster as you selfishly sought out your own release. 

As much as you hate to admit it, the flush that warms your neck and face isn’t just from the physical exertion of bouncing on his rather impressive length for so long; it’s partially because your subconscious desires regarding your relationship with Jake were creeping to the surface. It wasn’t an intentional decision for you to buy lingerie and wear it when you invited him over on the most romantic day of the year. The last thing you wanted was to give him any impression that somewhere between the late night hookups and platonic lunch dates when neither of you wanted to eat alone, something akin to a crush had developed. 

But it was too late. Things were working in Jake’s favor as his patience had paid off and he had finally been allowed past the high walls that guarded your heart. Every time the two of you had sex, he felt so far away from you—being balls deep inside you couldn’t close the distance created by your detached aura—but tonight, you showed him a more vulnerable side. From the way you get why when he tells you how pretty you are to how you’re more vocal about your needs and even the way you were riding him exudes more intimacy than usual. After spending so many evenings rutting into you from behind in your favorite position, just the sight of your pretty face contorted into an expression of unadulterated pleasure has Jake moaning softly. 

His chest heaves with elation, skin lightly glistening under the low lighting of your bedroom as he staves off his climax; letting you use him until you’re satisfied. Two orgasms in already, your pussy had made a mess all over his lap but it seemed like you had no intention of stopping any time soon.  

“Go out with me.” He abruptly blurts out, the slight strain in his voice becoming more evident when he feels your walls pulsing around him.

“Don’t say things like that so suddenly.” You pant, your pace unfaltering as another zip of pleasure starts to make your body tingle and your third orgasm draws closer.

Letting out a small chuckle of amusement at your stubbornness, Jake grabs both your wrists off his chest, pulling your arms behind your back to keep you in place as he starts thrusting up into you deeper and faster than before. Feet firmly planted into the plushness of your mattress, his cock digs deep into your sopping cunt and gives you the rush you craved. Being fucked like this renders you into a headspace that makes it impossible to think clearly; both you and Jake know this, so he repeats his declaration.

“I mean it. Let’s start dating for real.” He grunts, sweat beading along his brow as he tries not to get too lost in the soft warmth that was your body and the sinful silkiness of your walls gripping his dick. “I can’t play these emotional games with you forever…”

Eyes squeezing shut, you hear his words but any semblance of a response is nonexistent in your brain. All you can focus on is your body tensing at his pace that was getting progressively rougher as the two of you raced toward the edge of ecstasy. Each thrust seems wetter and sloppier than the last when your walls gush around him as he ultimately carries you to your finish once again. Body wavering slightly as he continued to pummel into you from below, you crack your eyes open to get a look at him and you can see the look of adoration that lays beneath all the lust. And in that moment, it’s impossible to deny him any longer.

“F-fine…we can try dating.” You try your best not to cringe at the words but once you finish speaking, you can already feel Jake’s cock throbbing at the sound of your agreement as he releases all his pent up frustration into the condom. 

From that point on, Jake promised to himself that he would try his absolute hardest to make every day—and every Valentine’s Day specifically— special for you so you wouldn’t have to fear love.     

[stevebabey]

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

[andysorbit]

SFW & NSFW boyfriend!Jisung

buckle up this is kinda long

I'm lazy so this is my format for this I might make a fic later but I more than likely won't

Is literally terrified of you at first

like he can't even look at you he's just 🫣

very slowly warms up to you like... a snail could walk across Puerto Rico twice before he's fully convinced that he might have a chance with you

falls in love with how gentle and playful you are with him

if you're more shy like he is, he thinks it's the sweetest thing

if you're more forward then he's scared and turned on by that

you're his baby but he's also your baby

once he knows your his... you're his

he's touchy but he's so sneaky about it.

he'll fix your shirt collar, adjust your bracelets, gently place a hand on your back or an arm around your shoulder

your first kiss kinda just happens

like just unplanned as hell

like you meet up for lunch and when he hugs you, you both just go in for it and he just 😧 then he's kissing you all over your face

he's buying you a necklace with his initials on it

he's also showing you how to play his favorite games

does he know his way around a kitchen? well he didn't but after hearing you say men who are useless in the kitchen don't deserve human rights, he started hounding Jaemin to help him learn the bare basics

he's asking you for help too because he likes how gently you talk to him

he'd bring it up while you're cuddled up in his room watching a movie

he'd be the big spoon most of the time because holding you is like free therapy for him

spams you memes on in IG and TikTok

sometimes writes poetry for you

is super proud that your family and friends like him

wants to go all the way but he's a gentleman

"y'know how uh... I was..."

"you can touch me Jisung. it's okay."

so he rests his hand on your hip

again he's trying but he's a gentleman... who's also still terrified

"and I thought you wanted to fondle me... hm"

"I can fondle you?"

"I mean I did just give you permission, Sungie"

and his hand is immediately easing up your shirt to press to your tummy while he's sighing happily

you have to literally tell him he doesn't need permission to touch you

"I don't need permission, huh?"

"no, you dont"

"because you're all mine?"

"I sure am"

and then he's softly groping your tits and you can feel him growing hard against your ass

"how much of you is mine?"

"all of me"

"how much of what's mine can I have right now?"

again this dude is a gentleman

but also he's an animal

yes he may seem like a gentle giant but when he wants you, he gets a look in his eyes like he could absolutely swallow you up

he's strong and is definitely scared of hurting you so he holds back in everything he does to you

he's overwhelmed tbh he never knows what he wants to do first

first he's kissing you

then he's groping your tits again

then he's sucking marks into your neck

then he's kissing you again and easing his hand into your panties

"is this okay?"

and of course it's okay

he's so feral for you that you can literally feel him holding back

"I'm not glass, Sungie"

"no but you're a soft lady and I'm gonna... I have to do this the right way. Our first time is supposed to be special. I can't just rip your clothes off and have my way with you"

and he does takes his time with you

savoring you, teasing you, caressing you

still unable to process that you're his and that you want him just as much as he wants you

he's playful even during sex

"oh you want me so bad"

"oh shut up"

"not my fault you think I'm sexy"

and you know just how to make him fold

"I do think you're sexy, Jisung"

"stop"

once he's had you, he can't enough of you

he'll drag you off just about anywhere to have you

at a mutual friend's house? he's sneaking you out to the balcony to finger you

out for a night drive? he's grabbing your hand to press to the bulge in his pants

and of course he's fucking you in the backseat

more than anything, he loves watching your face

no matter what you're both doing, he needs to see your face

whether it's something wholesome or downright filthy

if you had a penny for every time he tells you that you're his while he's fucking you, you could by a billionaire

loves fucking you stupid

"take it all. take every fucking inch baby. You're such a good girl for me"

his newfound breeding kink is why you had to get an IUD expeditiously

found out by accident really

the man's addicted to you so there are times when you don't wanna stop to use a condom

"are you sure?"

and of course you're sure

he's beside himself when he gets to feel you without a condom

like he's a mess

moaning, panting, whimpering in your ear

"fuck... oh my God you're so fucking hot. fucking love you so much baby yesyesyesyes"

he whines whether he's in control or not

he needs to touch you any way he can

he's so in love and sometimes you catch him giving you that "that's my baby" look and it just feels like the best thing in the world

bonus!!!! text!!

thanks for reading!!!

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people. 

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @marvelmenwhore @happinessinthebeing @before-we-get-started @sjsmith56 @esposadomd @cjand10 @yearningforsappho @mrsevans90

[m0nsterqzzz]

★ Happy Endings in the Avengers Compound ★

paring: wanda maximoff x female reader

summary: Wanda is to afraid to make a move with you but what about when you get a date that isn't her?

warnings: literally nothing, it's just pure fluff, jealousy if that needs a warning? really shitty ending cuz i didn't know how to end it lol, a tiny bit ofcussing, terrible writing

a/n: I wrote this while I should've been taking notes in English cuz I was so boreddddd got this idea from a video my friend sent me that was all like, "girl whos obsessed with you does your makeup or something" cuz there's this girl in class who likes to do people's makeup and it was so fucking funny cuz she kept making comments I swear so yeah I just wanted to say that. enjoy :)

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

With a big grin, you harshly push open Wanda's bedroom door and squeal. “I got a date with this really pretty girl at the coffee shop!” Wanda's head snaps up from the book she's ready, and no amount of enthusiasm takes over her face. “A girl? what's her name, last name, date of birth, addresses, place of work, and hometown?” you chuckle, sitting criss cross on her bed and taking her cold hands in your warm ones. “Her name is Vanessa but I call her V, her last name is Tanner, birthday is March 23rd…I don't know what year, I don't know her address, she works at the hospital a few streets away, and I don't know where her hometown is.”

She takes a moment to think before questioning, “So you're going out with a woman you barely know? That doesn't sound safe honey.” You chuckle and nod. “I do know her! We spent like two hours talking in the café!” She looked back to her book and muttered, “Yet you still don't know how old she is.”

You giggle, and a sudden thought appears that makes you smile even brighter. “You should do my makeup! She's taking me out to dinner at a really fancy restaurant at seven.” Wanda frowns. You hate fancy restaurants. The last time Tony tried to take the team out to one, you stared at the menu with a disgusted look on your face the entire time. Wanda ended up taking you to a diner later that night, and the burger you had was much better than the snail food Tony made you try. Why are you going out with this girl if she didn’t even care enough to learn that?

Wanda rolls her eyes a bit. “Why would I do that?” She asks, and you smile. “Because you love me.” you say. and she mumbles something incoherent before looking at your face and sighing in defeat. 

You cheer, launching yourself into her arms and letting your head rest against her chest. The corners of her lips tug up at your happiness, but they go back down when she remembers why. 

“Come on butterfly.” She helps you up off the bed, leading you to her vanity and forcing you to sit on the chair. She grabs a bronzer stick, gently applying it to the middle of your cheeks, kind of on your cheekbone. She grabs a beauty blender and blends that in before grabbing a blush palette. Bucky walks into the room, laying down on Wanda's bed and beginning to talk about some guy he met at the park today. “And he’s such an attention seeker!” He ends with, and it’s silent until Wanda speaks quietly- clearly to you, “Just like that girl you’re seeing.” You scoff, and Bucky bursts out laughing as he looks between the two of you. “What's that supposed to mean? You haven’t even met them yet!” You say, and Wanda shots back, “And I don’t want to.” Bucky holds his stomach in laughter, and both you and Wanda turn to glare at him. The frown on your face is clear as you look at Wanda, and she sighs as she tells you, “I’m sorry okay Butterfly? I just…..I don’t know.” You miss the way Bucky smirks at the witch as he leaves the room quietly. 

“I guess…..I just don’t like that she has you and I don’t.” This brings a small giggle out of you. “Of course you have me Wands! You’re my best friend!” You say, oblivious to the way she grimaces at the word “friend”. She sighs, and doesn’t say anything as you apply some eyeshadow and highlighter to your face. “There you go Butterfly.” You look at yourself in the mirror, grinning at the sight and then at her. You kiss her forehead in thanks. “Thank you Wands!” You say, beginning to run out of her bedroom to go search for an outfit to wear. 

“Anytime darling.” She mumbles, releasing a heavy sigh and holding her head in her hands. Someone gently knocks on the door, and she wipes her tears away and says without turning around, “What’s up Butterfly?” A slightly deep and raspy voice speaks teasingly from her doorway, “I thought that nickname was reserved for your girlfriend?” 

Wanda turns around, facing the redhead woman in the doorway and lets the tears fall. Natasha’s smile falls, and she instantly walks to Wanda and wraps her up in a hug. “She-she’s going out with someone else Nat! I’m too late!” Natasha knows about Wanda’s crush on you, as it was revealed after Wanda finally snapped at her after months of the ex-assassin teasing her about the way she looks at you. Natasha’s always been a very, go for it type person, so that’s the advice she had given Wanda the first time the younger girl asked for help asking you out. The witch practically laughed in her face.

“It’s okay kid……it’s okay.” Natasha tries her best to soothe her, but nothing seems to help as the tears continue to fall so she hesitantly pulls away and asks, “Do you love that girl Wanda?” The answer is obvious. “Yes….more than I love anything.” Wanda says. Natasha gently smiles. “Then you’re going to do what you should have done a long time ago. You’re going to buy her her favorite flowers,” Wanda nods along, sniffling a bit as she tries to build up her courage. “,you’ll put on some nice clothes instead of sweatpants and a hoodie,” she giggles and looks down at her comfortable clothes before nodding. “,and most importantly, you’re gonna do it today. Before she goes out on that date. I’m like 84.62 percent sure she likes you back so it’ll all be all right.” Wanda’s eyes go wide. She was expecting this to be more of a in a few weeks plan, but clearly Natasha had other thoughts. The redhead doesn’t give room for complaint though, as she simply gets up and walks out of the bedroom.

Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping her tears and glancing up at the clock on the wall. It’s currently 4pm, so that means there is 3 hours until your date with that bimbo.

Three hours for her to get a bouquet.

Three hours for her to figure out what she's even going to say.

Three hours for her to get her shit together.

Those three hours are spent with Bucky and Natasha, spending the first hour going to multiple stores in search of the perfect bouquet. It’s stupid really, the need to find the perfect bouquet but the older two just roll their eyes and stay silent. 

The next hour is spent trying to figure out what to say, and both Natasha and Bucky could not stay serious as Wanda rehearsed on a pillow. That pillow was thrown at Natasha's head.

The last hour was an hour of panic, especially when you came in to say your date was 10 minutes away. This was her time. She walks through the hallway, finding you sitting on a couch in the living room. You changed clothes, and you look absolutely stunning. She stops walking for a second to admire you, but a giggle from behind her causes her to abruptly turn around. She sees Tony, Natasha, Bucky, Steve, and Thor all standing there with smiles.

Tony's is more of a smirk, but everyone else's is supportive as they give her silent thumbs up. She rolls her eyes at them being nosy and continues to walk closer to you.

Your focus is on your phone, but you look up with a bright smile when you notice Wanda's platform docs. “Hey Wands! What's up?” She swallows thickly, sweaty hands gripping the bouquet a bit tighter behind her back. “Wands? Why do you look so nervous?” You giggle, and she can't help but smile at the sound. 

The group is still watching from the doorway, and Natasha rolls her eyes when Tony pulls out his phone and presses record.

Wanda reveals what she was hiding, and you immediately gasp at the sight of the beautiful flowers. “Well aren't you just a gentle woman my dear? These are beautiful Wands. Thank you.” She smiles as you bring them a bit closer to your nose and sniff them. “Not as beautiful as you.” She cringes, and you immediately burst out laughing. “That was sweet but it was definitely the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say.” She nods.

Tony agrees quietly and Bucky hits the back of his head.

“So um….Butterfly.” You nod to acknowledge her. “I was- I was thinking recently and um…” Your phone begins to buzz, and you simply place it in your purse as you give her your full attention. “Well…” She takes a glance at the group who's still in the doorway, and they all send her encouraging smiles. It's then that you notice them, sending them all confused smiles before looking at Wanda again.

She's taking one last deep breath when Jarvis suddenly alerts the house. “There is a woman named Vanessa Tanner at the front gate, saying she's here to pick up her date.” Natasha and Bucky instantly panic, looking at each other before going back to Wanda.

As if those are the magic words, Wanda's eyes widen and she begins to ramble, “I really, really, really like you Butterfly and I know you may not feel the same way but Natasha and Bucky said you did and I figured that if there was a little bit of hope, I should try it.” A shocked look takes over your face. “It's totally fine if you don't feel the same way but I just couldn't let you go out with that bimbo named Vanessa if there was even a small chance you liked me….half as much as I do you.” She doesn't take her gaze off the floor, and she takes your silence as an answer as tears fill her eyes.

“Wanda. Look at me.” You demand, but she shakes her head no and continues to study the carpeted floor. “Wanda. Look…at…me.” She slowly looks at you, and the happiness in your eyes is enough to make her let out a small sigh of relief- not complete relief though. 

“I wish you had told me this before I practically threw myself at a woman I barely know. Because I'd much rather you be the one picking me up for dinner than Vanessa.” You both giggle, and she hesitantly asks, “So...what does that mean for us?” 

Natasha rolls her eyes and Tony shouts, “Ask her out you dumbass!” It's clear he's talking to the witch in front of you and she blushes red as she glares at him before turning back to you. “He's right. So, would you like to go out with me Butterfly?” 

You take a moment to pretend you're thinking about it before asking playfully, “And what would we do on this date Miss Maximoff?” She hadn't really thought about it, so she takes a minute to do that before declaring, “I'd take you out to dinner, not a fancy restaurant with food you hate, but your favorite dinner a few streets away. And then I'd take you dancing to that place we went to for your birthday because you had a lot of fun there, and then I'd bring you back here and make you a homemade dessert. Your favorite.” You smile. “Then yes, I’d love to go out with you Wanda Maximoff.” You lean in a bit to kiss her cheek, and she blushes a bit.

Suddenly, cheering erupts and the sound of a confetti popper going off can be heard. “What the hell Tony?” Wanda asks, but both of you can’t help but chuckle. He grins. “This long lasting nightmare of having to be around you two’s sexual tension is finally over!” Natasha smacks his arms and questions, but it’s more like telling him what to say, “Don’t you mean, “I popped that confetti popper because I’m so happy two of my teammates have finally found happiness”?” He’s silent for a minute before he laughs loudly as says, “No. Not at all. I meant to say, this long lasting nightmare of having to be around you two’s sexual tension is finally over! Let’s party baby!” You giggle, but Wanda narrows her eyes, letting them glow red. Suddenly, the second unused confetti popper in Tony's hand flies up to be level with his face, and he mumbles, “Well shit” right before it goes off. 

While he’s spitting out small pieces of paper from his mouth and trying to blow them out of his nose, the doorbell rings. “It is Vanessa Tanner.” Jarvis notifies, and you start to walk to the door with Wanda hot on your heels. “Where are you going?” She questions with a hint of sadness in her voice as she’s sure you're going to go on that date with Vanessa even after everything just happened. 

“I’m going to go tell her it won’t work out.” You say casually, and the smile is right back on Wanda's face as she uses her powers to freeze you in place and run ahead of you. You simply laugh, calling out, “Wanda! Wanda!” She turns around for a second to look at you. “Be nice please?” She giggles. “It’s nice of you to think I can do that Butterfly.” She runs off to go probably harass Vanessa, and you're left frozen in the hallway with a small chuckle. 

What Wanda doesn’t know is that you’d been waiting for that day even longer than she had. She’d always been it for you, ever since the first day she came to the compound. But over time, you slowly lost hope she felt the same way, and decided to just move on. If Wanda hadn’t done that sudden declaration of love, the future you two eventually have together would have never happened, and that's something you now think about daily.

[just-jordie-things]

MOREE headcannons for choso i really do love your other headcannons! heh

hell yes i love how open this is i'm gonna give ya such a random smattering of choso headcanons <3 tagging @delzinrowe bc it's choso and we talk abt him a lot so some of the credit for this has to go to her <3 ___

choso is a bit of a menace at the grocery store, but he doesn't mean to be. he's intrigued by all the packaging of different snacks and drinks- sometimes just regular products too like tissue boxes or toilet paper rolls. it often takes a couple hours to get the shopping done with him in tow. he's drawn in like a child to a candy bar!! if something is packaged in bright colors, expect to have to tell him what the product is, because he's gonna be interested in it.

i think he'd hate carbonated drinks. i think the bubbles would be a shock to his system ((did he even drink water before he met you??)) but i think he'd LOVE flavored milk. chocolate and strawberry. picturing choso casually having a lil carton of milk in his hand makes me soft. he'd go to yuji as soon as you introduce him to the wonderful beverage to see if his brother had ever tried such a delicious treat.

choso's always touching you. he doesn't know what pda is, but he's very into it... in an oblivious way. if he's not holding your hand, then his arm is around you. if you're sitting together he prefers to have you on his lap, but tucked into his side and under his arm is the next best thing. and he'll kiss you, anywhere, anytime. standing in line at the bank? the sunlight caught your eyes just right and he was just overwhelmed with the urge to cup your face and kiss you so longingly one could assume you were lovers reunited after years apart... but no, you've just been in this line together for fifteen minutes. you could tell him there's a time and place for such acts of passion but... whew you gotta catch your breath first, don't you??

he's always catching lil critters to show you. he noticed you liked to point out when there's a squirrel crossing the street, or a lady bug on the windowsill, so he notes that little creatures are some of your favorites. now on walks he keeps an eye out for any critter to present you with. he's caught all sorts of things with ease and surprising gentleness- despite being a massive hunk of muscle. he's managed to catch (and later release, of course) rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, toads, a couple of turtles, possums, even street rats. as well as bugs- just about any bug he sees. some are more exciting than others, the dragonflies, the ladybugs, rollie pollies, caterpillars, snails.... you could probably do without the roaches and big spiders, but you try not to show your squeamish side as you thank him for showing you and politely ask him to put it back on the ground <3

choso pouts if you don't shower with him. bc why wouldn't you? he got the water to the temperature you like... what, is he supposed to shampoo his own hair?? are you mad at him??

choso is quickly becoming a favorite of mine i'm sorry gojo but i have to cope somehow

[waldau]

hello!! big fan here! i think you’re super talented and cool 🫶🏼 can i perhaps request a friends to lovers thing for vernon? do you think he’d be the first one to break and confess or would it be you? if it’s the latter, how does he react? any thoughts on this would be fine really, even if you don’t want to make it into a full fledged story. just love talking about and thinking about vernon.

darling anon i think you broke my brain because i've never written so much in a single day (also thank you so much!!! <3). i love vernon and i've kind of been in a vernon spiral myself recently. i hope you like this :)

chroma — chwe hansol | 2,520 words | fluff

chroma (noun) — the purity of a colour, or its freedom from white or grey. reader and vernon are best friends who SCREAM become lovers. briefly ft dokyeom.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

at first glance, you and vernon are opposites.

not exactly grumpy and sunshine opposites, but if you're both the same colour, you're a shade or two brighter than him. which means that you're similar with different energy levels, and honestly? you love your dynamic.

your friends notice that outside of the group, you're the one he's the closest to — so it only makes sense that he's also the one you're the closest to.

he's always near you whenever you're hanging out with your friends — whether you're sitting right next to each other or across the room, he meets your eyes from time to time, if only to check in on you, or to allude to an inside joke when someone speaks.

(you have way too many inside jokes; an unhealthy amount, even.)

he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely. or you crash at each other's places for the night if you're too tired.

you always look forward to whenever he gets random bursts of energy and proceeds to tell you about stuff he finds interesting. but you also use him as a pillow when he becomes extremely quiet, and honestly? it's pretty easy to co-exist with vernon regardless of the silence or the lack of it, because you always match his energy.

he sends you pictures of whatever he thinks you'll like, whether it's a meme or a sunset, but sometimes he sends you stuff he likes — like a cool monument he saw in new york or his cat or a picture of two snails on the side of the road with the caption "us?"

seriously, opening his texts is like a wild card (in a good way).

he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely.

you're slightly more affectionate than him, which is something he doesn't mind.

he's not the first to initiate hugs, but you can trust that he's always going to find your hand for a high five or a fist bump or a quick side hug.

if you're sitting together on the couch listening to music or watching something on the television, he lets you loop your arm through his like it's something you do every day (which it most definitely is).

vernon wasn't very physical in the beginning of your friendship, but now you're used to a light brush of his hand against yours, your shoulders bumping for a second or two, a poke to your cheek — just your things.

now the thing is this: you have a crush on vernon. a huge crush that doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"i knew it!" dokyeom says shrilly, and you wince. you love him, but you're not sure if he's capable of keeping your secret.

"was it that obvious?"

"of course it was! i've seen the way you look at him. like he's the funniest guy in the room, even if he's not. or like he's the hottest guy in the room. which he—"

"—is," you finish, and bite your tongue. dokyeom doesn't need to know exactly how in deep you are.

dokyeom shakes his head. "i can't believe he doesn't know."

"kyeom, if you tell him, i swear—"

"i won't! i kind of want to see how long it takes for him to realize."

"i don't think he will," you say, looking over to where vernon is sitting on the couch and arguing with seungkwan and seungcheol about the best movie from 2008.

"how do you know that?"

you shrug. "i've tried dropping subtle hints. he's just...oblivious."

dokyeom follows your gaze and sighs. "he really is. but if you ask me," he says, turning to raise an eyebrow. "this really could go somewhere."

every year, you spend valentine's day together.

it started as a joke the first time — vernon's date somehow cancelled on him at the last moment, and he showed up to your place with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.

you thought your heart was going to fall out of your body, but he sheepishly explained he didn't know where else to go, or who else to give them to.

it turned into a rant about how he didn't believe in or care about the holiday anymore.

but now it's your tradition to enjoy each other's company rolling your eyes and booing at cheesy movies.

(you wish they'd come to life, specifically with vernon, but he doesn't have to know.)

he isn't the best at comforting you with words. you learned that a long time ago and know it well even now. yet he's the first person you turn to when something's wrong.

you're wrapped in a blanket on vernon's sofa, a hot mug of cocoa in front of you next to a bowl of snacks, but your mind isn't on any of them. why, you think. why, why, why me. you feel terrible for the space you're occupying, even though you've curled up into a ball.

"hey," vernon says from above you, and the next thing you know, you're pulled into him. "i don't know what to say to make it better, and...i don't know what else i can do, but tell me, okay?"

you nod.

"i'm sorry."

you stop crying at that, trying to blink away your tears but failing. "why?"

"he was a dick, and you never deserved someone so shitty."

you try to inhale, but it's shaky. "i'm just...so tired," you say, resting your head on his shoulder. "i don't know why i keep attracting idiots like him. and i hate that you always have to see me like this."

"like this?"

"in pieces. crying. whatever."

"you're not in pieces," vernon says, running his hand over your back. "you're sad. it happens. and i don't mind being here, okay? i'm always here. sorry."

you snort. "you've apologized more to me than he's ever done at this point."

"now you know who to keep around longer," vernon smiles.

you wonder if vernon's aware of the things he does. he talks to you like there's no one else he'd rather be with at the moment. he bends down to meet your eyes when you're talking about something, and you're amazed he hasn't noticed you short-circuiting in the middle of your sentences more than a few times now. he finds the most random things to give you every now and then.

"huh?"

"pebble. reminded me of pou."

"pou? vernon, that was so long ago!"

"do you want me to skip this rock?"

"no, wait—"

fights with him aren't really fights, because one of you always caves in and has to make up.

"your neck's going to hurt," you hear vernon say softly, probably trying not to wake you up. but you weren't really asleep in the first place.

"why do you care?" you grumble, sitting up straight and wincing when your neck does, in fact, hurt.

"i don't hate you just because we had a fight," he says, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest. "sore necks suck."

you chew on your cheek for a while, not wanting to say the words you know are inevitable. "fighting with you sucks, too."

he says nothing; just hugs you tighter.

you're surprised at how well you've adapted to vernon going out on dates.

it wasn't easy, you'll admit. at first it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest while also being crushed, but now it's okay (maybe because he hasn't been dating as much recently — you can't remember the last one he even went on).

you're nothing if not a supportive best friend, so you're okay with the few times his dates go well enough to tell you about.

you teasingly tell him not to give you too many details, but you wonder if he knows why you really ask that of him.

both of you act like a married couple, according to your friends. it made you blush at first, but there's no point reacting to it anymore because it's just not true. vernon doesn't like you the way you like him, and the way you're affectionate with each other is...hard to explain. just friends, you say, even though you wish you were more.

"you're dishgushting," dokyeom says, mouth stuffed full of pizza while he pours himself some coke.

you give him a look. "you or me?"

dokyeom nods, chewing aggressively before swallowing his bite. "you. and vernon. can't stop giving each other those eyes all the time. makes me sick."

"...eyes?"

"like you need a room or something. like there's no one else in here with you guys."

"we don't do that, kyeom."

he snorts inelegantly. "ask anyone. you're lucky jeonghan hasn't snitched on you yet."

and maybe, just maybe, vernon treats you somewhat differently than he treats his friends.

you always get the first bite of his food, always listen to new vinyls he gets on the weekends, sprawled out on the floor and letting the music seep into your skin, always get to steal his hoodies whenever you're cold — you can't think of any other friend of his who gets the same treatment.

but that's just best friend privilege.

at least that's what you tell yourself.

after vernon comes back from his latest tour, he becomes more touchy with you — resting a hand on your thigh, tracing the shell of your ear, linking pinkies with you.

maybe it's just his way of reconnecting with you after being away for so long.

but doesn't he realize what he's doing to your heart?

probably not, you think, when he wraps his arms around your waist one morning when you're in front of his vinyl collection, trying to pick something you think you'll like.

"sol?" you ask, patting his hands before resuming browsing through his shelf.

"hey."

"what's up?"

"tired."

"shouldn't you be in bed, then?"

"you weren't there."

you pause, the magdalene vinyl in your hand threatening to fall before you place it back. "i'm never there."

"wanna change that?"

"what?"

"what."

you think it's some silly pick-up line he's trying to test on you, so you gently push him back to his bedroom, threatening to leave his home if he doesn't sleep for a few more hours.

but it doesn't end there.

those pick-up lines pop up in the most unexpected places, with the most unexpected company. you shake your head and laugh them off, but you wonder why he's behaving like this.

there's one possible explanation for it, but you're not going to let yourself walk down that path. not unless he does it first.

vernon's quiet on the walk back to your car from the supermarket, half your groceries with you and the other half with him. he doesn't say anything when you point out his shoelace is untied, or his hair is sticking up a bit weirdly for his liking, or even the fact that there's a cat sitting right next to your car before it skitters away a few seconds later.

you're not worried. vernon does have those moments where he zones out so hard no one can get him back for a while, and this seems to be one of them.

"i love you," he finally says.

your hand fumbles with the grip of your bag. not cool, not when there's a couple of glass jars in there. there's going to be nothing cute to put the cookies in if you break them now.

"i love you too?" you offer, because it's not uncommon for you to say it to each other. it's just that vernon's never brought it up unprompted before.

"no. not how you think."

not how you think? how...

oh.

you can only stare at vernon, mind running a million miles an hour while he refuses to look at you, suddenly finding interest in that untied shoelace.

"love me love me?"

he nods, almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for it. it gives you a sudden boost of courage, of happiness, of everything good. you weren't wrong, after all. you put the rest of the groceries in the trunk and turn to face him.

you've seen this sight hundreds of times before — vernon with his messy hair, in this very hoodie with jam stains on the left sleeve, and those brown eyes that light up from the inside when the sun hits them just the right way and make him look like the most handsome man in the world — but it's like you've been seeing the world, even vernon, in monochrome till he said those words.

chroma.

"oi," you say, grabbing his face in your hands. "sol."

he just blinks.

"are you sure? absolutely sure?"

"yeah," he says, voice a bit rougher than usual, and you see yourself in his eyes for a moment. "i am. but i'm sor—"

you shut him up with a quick peck to his lips, uncaring of who might be seeing you right now. you know you're going to be embarrassed about it, squeal about it to dokyeom, bury your face in your pillow and question if any of it was real, but right now, it doesn't matter.

you've shocked vernon, for once. it feels good. he's staring at you with his mouth open, hands clutching your wrists like there's no tomorrow.

"you're not the only one," you explain, all bravado fizzling out when his full focus lands only on you.

"oh? yeah?" he asks, pulling you closer.

"mm."

he rubs his thumb across one of your wrists. "do you have eggs?"

"...what?" back to regularly scheduled programming, then. trust vernon not to make it weird.

"eggs. or ice cream. anything that needs the fridge. because i want to take you out on a date right now."

some things change: vernon becomes your boyfriend. you move in together a few months later. it's not the first time you've met his mother, but you're still nervous.

but the best thing of all is that he's yours now.

he even tells you how he realized he loved you back.

"i just...remembered you arguing with me about whether penne or fusilli was better, and my only thought was, i want this with you. for however long i could have it. i think i just loved you for so long, but...i didn't realize it was that love. i finally understood why kyeom-hyung kept telling me to get my shit together."

"sol—"

"no one knows me like you do and i don't want anyone else to. yeah."

"sol, babe, i was just asking if you want me to take out the trash."

"you...oh," he says, grinning in that shy way he does. "thought you asked me if i wanted you. but hey, if i'm trash for you, you're legally obligated to take me out, right?"

i've never put pictures before but he's SO boyfriend material, look at him

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi