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#i shouldn’t be acting like this when it comes to grown ass men but they make me do it
watmalik · 11 months
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I can’t believe y’all moved on from this. I’m still stuck on the fact that Carlos is just patiently waiting for TK to get to him so they can kiss??? This man really has both arms wide open for his fiancé, he’s like dude get in here, and he waits.
On the other hand, we have TK, a literal golden retriever (I like to think of him more as a corgi for obvi reasons but we make do), with his little impatient run/overly excited wiggle to get to his fiancé when he finally realizes Carlos is waiting for him. Then that pull… it’s like their hips have their own gravitational orbit where they just do that now ? Besties, your friends are literally there what are y’all doing?? They’re better ways to let them know you’re done hosting.
Yeah, I’m not well 😩
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blackstarising · 3 years
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coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.
tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.
i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.
that being said!
what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.
sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.
but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.
it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.
it's patronizing.
it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.
and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.
that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.
it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.
and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!
and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?
that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.
so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:
if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.
(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)
people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?
what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.
it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.
these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.
and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.
coach beard said it best: we need to do better.
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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years
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One shot | Bucky | Fluffy: 1 , 9 | Angst: 5 , 6 | w/ a happy ending
I kinda wanted to make it a challenge, and I thought these prompts were the most interesting! If you do choose to do it, I hope you have fun! Have a great day ❤️
Pizza With a Side of Confessions
Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: N/A, bit fluff, bit angst
Word Count: 1.8k
A/N: thank you so so much for requesting! this also include in the second ask you sent i did see it and make note of it! you certainly did give me a challenge here this one took some real mapping out to complete but i think i got it i hope i checked off all the boxes :)
Masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You had sworn the knock on your door was going to be from your date. The sleazy, creepy date you had just rejected on the stoop of your apartment building.
He had ended up being the complete opposite of what he appeared to be online. Through text messages, he seemed caring and kind. Interested in you. But then when you two met… He hands kept groping. Wandering. Caressing. You had begged him to stop in the restaurant which he eventually did after he walked you home, something you only agreed to to keep the peace, he began working on you again and you had to put your foot down, forbidding the night from going further.
He didn’t look too happy about your attitude which made you assume when that knock landed on your door, it was him and he was coming back for revenge. You had grabbed the first knife you could find and quickly pulled the door open, ready to hopelessly defend yourself…
But as you blinked back the tears cascading down your face, welling in your eyes, you saw a familiar pair of blue eyes along with a familiar frown.
"Bucky?" You sniffled, still pointing the knife at your best friend’s chest.
"Hey, doll," Bucky said, cautiously. He was standing as still as he could while also balancing a pizza box in his arms. "Do you… Do you maybe want to drop the knife, like, right now?"
You shook yourself out of your daze, quickly pulling the knife away from him. He visibly relaxed but his expression was cold, serious, as it took in your upset form. You brought the back of your hand to your face trying to get rid of the tears but they just wouldn’t stop.
"I-I’m sorry," you mumbled as you stepped away from the doorway, letting Bucky into the apartment. He immediately abandoned the pizza on your kitchen counter and turned to you, brows furrowing in waves of worry.
"What happened?" He asked — well, more like growled. If a man could growl. He truly sounded beyond angry which made you jump a bit. Bucky must’ve noticed because he immediately took a step back and tried recomposing himself. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you it’s just — seeing you cry — I need to know, whose ass am I kicking now."
You let out a light laugh at that, seeing his such protective side. You and Bucky had formed quite an interesting friendship over time. When you two first met, he loved bickering with you, teasing you here and there about anything and everything. You’d be the bud of the joke with him and while you tried not to let it bother you, admittedly, it had very quickly gotten quite annoying. Eventually, he seemed to just abandon the act and while you were cautious, you welcomed the newfound friendship — Lord knows those were hard to come across in adulthood.
Bucky has been an amazing friend to you ever since. Maybe even a little too amazing because over time you couldn’t deny some feelings had begun to form. But in your eyes, there could be no way such a handsome, funny man was going to be as interested in you. You tried to suppress it and instead just taught yourself to enjoy his little acts of kindness.
"I-I went on another date tonight," you sighed, setting the knife back in its holder. You leaned against the counter, opposite of Bucky. His arms were folded, waiting. "I and this guy had been texting for a while and… and I really thought he was great, I truly did, but then when we met he just made me so uncomfortable. All touchy, feely… Just making my skin crawl, even now." You sighed, dropping your gaze to the kitchen floor. "I told him I wasn’t interested after he walked me home and he didn’t seem very happy about it so… When you knocked, I thought it was him trying to get into my apartment."
You felt like such a fool explaining the situation. Despite this being Bucky and knowing, at some capacity, he wasn’t going to hold it over you, it was still embarrassing. You seemed to be constantly going on these dates trying to find a partner and time after time you came up disappointed. And Bucky would always be there to pick up the pieces.
When you looked back up at your friend, you found he was studying you closely. He was sure taking a while to respond but, then again, what more could he say? You felt he probably had grown exhausted trying to comfort you after these failed dates.
And it seemed your suspicions had been confirmed — but not in a way you could have ever seen coming.
Bucky cleared his throat as if he was preparing. You took a deep breath, ready for whatever blow he was about to serve. Would he yell at you? Would he give some speech on his disappointed he is? Beg you to delete the apps? Would he—
"Maybe you just shouldn’t be going on those dates anymore."
"Huh?" You frowned.
Bucky sighed. "You can’t keep putting yourself through this."
"But how else will I find someone to date? I’m not getting any younger here, Buck."
He turned away suddenly. You heard him let out a deep sigh. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.
"You could maybe start by looking at the man in front of you."
Your jaw just about hit the floor. "B-Bucky—"
But there was no stopping him as he went in for the declaration. "Remember when we first met and I used to tease you relentlessly? At the time, did it ever cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t hate you? That I wasn’t doing it out of spite? I was doing it because I was nervous. Here waltzes in this amazing, beautiful woman, and I-I didn’t know what to do. I was falling for you and I couldn’t stop it. Hell, I’m still falling for you. Every day, darling. Every goddamn day." He paused, shaking his head. "I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear tonight but I can’t sit here any longer watching you get taken advantage of by the men in this city. I’m sorry it’s coming out like this but I think you needed to hear it. I apologize for that but I won’t apologize for loving you."
You didn’t know what to do. All you could focus on was Bucky’s pleading eyes and the tears forming in your own. But they were coming on for a good reason this time. They weren’t wasted tears over an uncomfortable date. They were tears of relief.
"Do-Do you really mean all that?" You finally asked.
Bucky nodded. "Every word."
In a spontaneous move, you pushed yourself away from the counter and took determined strides towards Bucky. You threw your arms around his waist, burying your face in his shirt. It took Bucky a second to react but you eventually felt his arms snake around you.
"I love you, too, Buck," you mumbled into his chest. You felt his body shake as he chuckled.
"You sure, doll?"
You nodded. "I’ve loved you for a while, too. I just never thought you’d ever…"
"Stop," Bucky said. "Don’t say anymore. Whatever you thought, it’s not true. I have always loved you."
You pulled away from his chest, putting some distance between you two but keeping your arms locked around him. He was looking down at you with a great mixture of relief and adornment on his face. You couldn’t help but smile. You felt the same.
"I can’t believe this," you giggled. "So are we… Are we like…"
Bucky laughed. "I think we need a date first."
You gasped, happily. "A date?"
He nodded then untangled himself from you. You watched as Bucky walked over to the forgotten pizza. "How about pizza and a movie?"
You looked between Bucky and the pizza box. "Bucky, do you want to explain why you were at my door with a pizza?"
Realization flashed across Bucky’s face. "I-I didn’t come here expecting a date or anything, I swear. I stopped by because… well, I didn’t know you had your date and thought at the very least we could hang out. I even got your favorite."
You smiled, stalking over to the pizza. "Pepperoni and jalapeños?"
Bucky scoffed. "I did say I got your favorite, didn’t I?"
You let out a cheerful squeal as you hugged Bucky again, throwing your arms around his neck. He leaned into you and it all felt natural, like the stars in the sky had finally aligned.
You broke away and said, "You take the pizza and find a movie. I’ll grab some plates."
Bucky agreed and you two broke into your separate tasks, eventually coming back together to sit on your living room couch. At first, though, you two just kind of stood there, the smell of pizza wafting between you two. You weren’t just sitting on the couch to watch a movie — you were sitting down, on a date, to watch a movie.
But you were tired of being so hesitant and running into wrongs after wrongs. You were taking this opportunity. You sat on the couch and patted the spot right next to you. Once Bucky sat down, you got a bit bolder and threw his arm over you, allowing you to cuddle into him. He was a bit tense at first but soon eased up, welcoming you to invade his space.
Bucky had decided on some action movie but you didn’t particularly care about it. All you could focus on was the fact you were cuddling with Bucky while eating pizza. It was a date. A real date where the touching felt natural and you weren’t scared of saying the wrong thing. Had you really been so blind?"
The emotions and questions within you were building quickly. You needed a way to break it, to distract yourself. You landed on your sad, silly humor to save the day.
"Hey, Buck," you mumbled as the car on screen blew up or something. You didn’t know, you just shifted closer into Bucky — if that was even possible. His hold on you got tighter.
"Yeah, doll?"
"Remember when I pulled a knife on you? That’s crazy. Who would’ve guessed a little civilian like myself could hold a knife to the Winter Soldier and live to tell the tale." You were well aware that you were rambling now, the roller coaster of a night catching up to you, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind.
The laughter that escaped him was like music to your ears. His body shook beneath you as he comically laughed at your ridiculous comment.
“You drive me up the wall sometimes, darling," Bucky mumbled back once he had calmed down.
You giggled, "Better get used to it."
"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I better."
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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years
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Facing Your Demons
Jaskier x Reader 1785 words
TW: implied sexual assault, seeing an abuser in public, panic attacks, and references to trauma. I did my best to avoid explicit details but tread carefully. 
A huge thank you to @bubblegumfanfics for trusting me with this request - I hope I’ve done it justice :”)
Request: Something where the reader was a*saulted in the in the past and has a flashback or she sees her ex that did it and Jaskier ends up comforting the reader, telling her how much she means to him (accidental love confession? Maybe? I love those) while Geralt is dealing with her ex. The reader says she feel the same way but she can't give Jaskier anything sexual because it makes her uncomfortable. But jaskier says he'll be with her regardless and that he loves her and if she ever wanted to try he will oblige and if she doesn't like it he'll stop
It was only one contract, meant to last no more than a fortnight. It should have been an easy in-and-out arrangement; your client got nervous, enlisted a Witcher’s help, and you agreed against your better judgement to stay on and split the earnings. While you’d dealt with this type of apparition before, you were tired, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to work alongside someone tailormade for the trade.
It was only supposed to be for the one job. It should have never gone on like this. You should have never allowed yourself to be charmed by the Geralt’s friend, the bard. You shouldn’t have grown comfortable working alongside Geralt, earning twice the coin by doubling your work. Hell, you should have refused to travel with them while working that first contract. Because maybe if you’d done that, you wouldn’t have found yourself so heavily linked to the pair of them.
Maybe if you’d had kept your distance, you wouldn’t be where you are now.
And you so desperately did not want to be where you were now.  
Cowering in the dank, stuffy corner of this horrid tavern, trapped between Geralt’s gargantuan frame and Jaskier’s far-too-close body, you were stuck looking the devil in the eye.
Okay, don’t be dramatic, you thought desperately, clinging to whatever silver lining you could get your trembling hands on to stay afloat, you haven’t actually looked him in the eye.
But still, you’d seen him, and the memories you’d spent so long trying to scrub away were worming their way back into the forefront of your mind, traveling down your body like furious snakes. Each memory burning with venom over everywhere he’d touched you.
“Hey, Y/N, you alright?”  Jaskier asked, reaching over to lay a comforting hand on your arm.
At the contact, however, you recoiled so violently away from him that you practically slammed yourself into Geralt. The combined sensation of Jaskier’s warm, calloused fingers on your arm and Geralt’s broad, hard chest against your shoulder sent blaring alarms of panic through you. Everything was too loud; everyone was too close.
You jerked your knees up in an attempt to curl yourself into a ball but ended up slamming both knees, hard, under the table. Surprised by the sudden ruckus, Geralt swore loudly beside you as Jaskier yelped, jumping back as his beer spilt and splashed across the table and onto his lap.
Both knees were now throbbing angrily, your head felt as if it had been filled with cotton, and your mouth watered dangerously as panic-induced nausea crashed over you. I can’t be here, a voice screamed inside your mind, I can’t be here with him.
“Y/N, what the hell-” Geralt started, stopping short when he finally saw the state you were in; the pallor of your skin paired with your wide, vacant eyes were horrifically familiar. It was something he’d seen in the faces of traumatized villagers whose lives were ruined by war, and in soldiers who’d just seen their comrades killed.  
Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes over your head and knew that they were thinking the same thing.
Without speaking, Jaskier pushed the table away from you as Geralt scooped you up and began marching steadily towards the exit. Once outside, Geralt gently set you down on a bench as Jaskier materialized by your side with a cup of water.
You’d been so focused on the devil’s face that you’d barely registered the change of scenery, but when your back hit the cool rock wall behind the bench, you were pulled back to reality. Startled, you blinked back unshed tears and let your eyes focus on the two concerned faces before you.
Your breathing slowed, and as you were coming too you heard Jaskier as Geralt whether he should splash the water he’d brought onto your face.
“N-no,” you breathed, feeling more grounded with every passing second, “please don’t.”
Geralt hummed knowingly and smacked the bard upside the head, scolding him for his ridiculous proposal, eliciting another yelp from Jaskier. “It was just an idea!” he hissed defensively, earning only a vacant stare from you and a glare from Geralt.
Frustrated and inexplicably jealous to see Geralt assume the dominant protective role, Jaskier knelt in front of you and scanned your face for a sign. His brows furrowed as he watched your lips mumble something inaudibly. “What is it?” he encouraged you gently, resting a hand next to you on the bench, but decisively not onto you.
“I can’t be here,” you said, barely above a whisper, “I can’t be here with him.”
Jaskier looked back at Geralt inquisitively, as if assuming he’d know you better since he got so defensive earlier. But when Geralt shrugged unperceptively in response, Jaskier felt strangely vindicated and turned back to you confidently.
“Be here with who, love?” he tried, meeting your eyes and doing his best to communicate non-verbally that you could trust him.
“The devil,” you murmured, your eyes finding the man over Jaskier’s head, through the tavern’s window.
The two men turned to follow your gaze. Upon spotting the man they assumed to be devil – a pompous soldier, gesticulating wildly as he held audience in the tavern – their eyes met briefly, eyebrows quirked, before coming back to you.
“You mean, that ridiculous ass?” Jaskier asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“The one in red? you asked.
“That’s the ass,” he replied, eyes sad as a tentative smile played at the corner of his lips, hoping you’d mirror the act.
You nodded silently, eyes meeting his fleetingly. “We, um, I mean he –” you broke off unable to continue, your eyes now closed as memories washed over you like acid.
“You were… together?” he tried, looking back to Geralt for support but getting nothing back but a non-committal shrug.
“I was, I mean he – um,” you swallowed thickly before going on, “we were.”
“And it was bad?” Jaskier was whispering now, meeting you at your energy.
You hesitated before responding, and that brief moment of silence broke Jaskier completely as he imagined the worst.
“It was,” you replied finally, meeting his eyes head-on, “not consensual.”
What happened next happened quickly.
Geralt swore loudly, his hands closing into tight fists as Jaskier swore in a way you’d never imagined him capable.
“Geralt!” Jaskier called over his shoulder, saying his name more like a command, begging his friend to take action.
“Way ahead of you, Jask,” he replied, already stalking his way back into the tavern.
When the tavern door slammed shut behind Geralt, Jaskier sprang to his feet before tentatively sitting by your side. His hand hovered over yours momentarily before he thought better of it and brought his hand back to rest on his own lap. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I can’t,” you choked out, putting your own hand over his, surprising both of you.
“That’s alright,” he breathed, placing his other hand over yours lightly, “you don’t ever need to think about it ever again. Geralt is taking care of it.” As he spoke, he swung a leg over the bench and turned so that his body faced yours squarely.
“But Geralt doesn’t get involved in human conflict,” you said, swiping at the tears that had managed to fall as you tucked a leg under yourself to angle yourself in his direction.
Jaskier’s eyes flit momentarily to the tavern’s window before quickly coming back to meet yours. “No, but he does kill monsters,” he assured, “and specializes in demons.”
“Do you think he’ll kill him?” you ask quietly, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.
“Hard to say,” he tried to answer, but was interrupted by loud crash followed by shouting coming from within the tavern, “but, huh, I think it’s fair to say you won’t ever need to worry about him again.”
You nodded lightly, trying and failing to hold Jaskier’s gaze. He was looking at you with such intensity, with a warmth you definitely didn’t think you deserved.  “Don’t look at me like that, Jask.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, bringing his eyes down to your still-intertwined hands. “I just hate to think of anything bad ever happening to you. I wish I could have known you then… that I could have protected you, that I could have,” he hesitated, considering his next words carefully, “that I could have loved you the way you deserve to be loved.”
“Oh, Jask…”
“No, no, darling, you don’t need to say anything. Please don’t feel obligated,” he blurted out, immediate regret burning at his cheeks, “I’m so incredibly stupid and selfish! I’m so sorry I-I just, seeing you like this it just, argh! I shouldn’t have said it-”
“Jaskier, please,” you interject, placing a feather-light hand over his chest, the pads of your fingers ghosting over the flesh exposed at his collar, “it’s not that. I’m… honestly I’m glad you said it.”
“Yeah?” he asked timidly, looking up at you through his thick lashes.
“Yeah,” you breathed, “I think I feel the same way… about wishing I could, know your love. Be able to love you, freely.”
“Yeah?” he murmured once more; eyes hesitantly alight with hope.
“Yeah,” a teary laugh escaping your lips. “But Jaskier, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to, you know, love you in the way you need.”
“Y/N, hey,” he cooed, your confession bolstering his confidence, “all I need is to know your heart. Knowing you love me is enough.”
“Jask, I don’t think you’re understanding me –”
“My sweet girl, look at me,” he pleaded, bringing his head down to hold your gaze through the curtain of your tear-soaked lashes, “so long as you’ll have me, I’ll be by your side. And I promise you, nothing will happen unless you’re ready and you want it. Nothing.”
“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes scanning his for any hint of mal-intent or deception but finding only earnest adoration.
“Hell yeah,” he whispered, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. 
Just then, Geralt immerged from the tavern and wiped his blood-soaked blade against the tall grass as he spoke. “We’re leaving.”
“Way ahead of you,” you parroted in a small voice, letting Jaskier pull you to your feet, before you ran to your horses.
You didn’t feel ready to ride out yourself, so you hopped behind Jaskier as Geralt led your horse behind him on Roach. As you put more distance between you and the tavern behind you, you found yourself growing ever calmer. Until finally, with your arms wrapped tightly around Jaskier’s waist and your face pushed between his shoulder blades, you took your first full breath of the evening and realized, incredulously, that you knew you were going to be okay.
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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years
Text
Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)
Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.
Chapter 3: Love So Soft
Main Masterlist
A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.
Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.
Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.
Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.
Word count: 5K
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Chapter 4: Fixed
You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.
Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.
At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.
You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.
As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.
You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.
So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.
Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.  
You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.
Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.
Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.
With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.
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“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.
“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”
“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”
You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.
The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.
Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.
Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.
“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.
“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”
“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.
He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.
Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?
Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.
‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.
You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”
Well look who just read your mind.
You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-
“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?
You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.
“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”
The fucking audacity.
“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”
As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.
You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.
You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.
You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.
Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.
You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.
The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.
As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.  
This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.
As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.
You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.
“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.
As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.
Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.
You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”
Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.
“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.
“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.
Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.
Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.
Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.
The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.
People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.
You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.  
“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”
Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.
“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.
You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.
“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”
Posh word for threats.
“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”
As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.
“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.
“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”
“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.
“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”
This fucker knew. Of course, he did!
You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-
“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.
You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.
“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.
“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”
“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.
“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.
For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.
You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.
You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”
We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?
Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.
“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.
“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.
“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”
Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.
You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.
As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.
It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.
“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.
“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”
The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.
He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.
“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.
Oh no, not the right direction to take.
You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.
“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”
You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.
Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.
“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”
Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.
“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.
“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?  
You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.
He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.
Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.
“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.
His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.
“Steve, please no, you don’t-”
His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.
You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.
“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.
His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.
“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”
“Steve, I beg you-”
Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.
His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.
Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.
His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.
It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.
The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.
Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.
He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.
He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.
“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.
As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.
There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.  
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shotofire · 3 years
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Impulse
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LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER
Overview: In which you have trouble respecting Captain Levi, and he shows you whos in charge
Warnings: cursing, filthy smut, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, choking, degrading, angst, toxic relations, biting, oral, creampie
Season: Not specified
-
Most would jump off a cliff before they even thought about talking back to the Captain Levi. Then there was you, the girl who sure had a mouth on them. At first you treated the Captain with respect and followed orders, but then he became too pushy. You’d never liked when others barked orders at you, or told you to do one thing after another. It was common sense that things were done more sufficiently if you take your time and not rush. Captain Levi wanted things done quickly, no questions asked.
Personally, you didn’t like the guy. One could not deny that he was extremely attractive, and when you had first saw him he’d sparked your interest. Then he decided to open his mouth and it ruined the entire fantasy you had playing out.
He expected way too much out of his squad sometimes, and you really wished Erwin hadn’t assigned you to him. You were incredibly skilled but lacked discipline and could be lazy at times. There was a reason he’d put you with Levi, but you had yet to realize it.
To you Levi was a ego driven asshole who thought he was better because of his rank. He always had your squad out late running laps, and cleaning whatever he wanted you to. Purification of whatever he found unfit had to be your least favorite thing in the world. You’d been raised on a farm and constantly had to clean, then you joined the scouts thinking it’d be all action. Then your Captain has you shoveling horse shit several times a week, and for what exactly? You had no clue. There was no way this was benefitting to your skills at all, it’s not like you had to clean titan shit.
The worst part was that Levi would only make you clean it all by yourself. The rest of your squad got the  luxury of sweeping, dusting, or mopping. Then there was you trying not to throw up every five minutes while the smell of shit and piss is filling your head. It was hell and you about had enough. You’d kept your mouth shut at that point telling yourself over and over to be the bigger person. You had reached a breaking point when a horse nearly kicked you in the face, you had to get off of Levi’s squad.
That day you stomped to Commander Erwins office full set of getting assigned to a new squad. Erwin had a weird soft spot for you, mainly because he knows your tragic past. He tried his best not to let it show, favoritism wasn’t something he liked to reveal. Harsh knocks echo through the mans office and he flinched, “You may come in.” There you are bursting through the door out of breath and cheeks flaming red.
The sight was somewhat scary, but only because you looked like you were about to rip someone’s head off. The first thing you saw, that only added to the anger, was Captain Levi himself sitting across from Erwin. Why the hell does he have to be here? You thought as your hands balled into firsts.
Everyone knew you had a temper problem. That was another reason Erwin saw you fit for Levi’s squad. Levi didn’t like people who couldn’t control themselves, so he wanted to put you in your place. So far all he’s done is increase your irritability and make you want to punch him in the face. “I want to be on another squad, I can’t take anymore of Captain Levi,” you stare ahead at Erwin, not even acknowledging Levi. The raven-haired man look at you with narrowed eyes and a scowl, someone really needed to put you in your place.
“Coming into my quarters without stating your name or business will get you nowhere, neither will that tone,” Erwin said, he couldn’t believe the way you were acting. You huffed at his words, patience wearing thin. “To hell with my tone!” Levi and Erwin’s eyes widen and their mouths fall open.
Not once has a cadet talked or acted in this manner of disrespect, you had some nerve. Levi was infront of you in almost an instant, backing you up against the door as his breath fanned over your face. “You need to learn how to respect your Captain and your Commander, or i’ll have you sent to the military police. Stop acting as if you’re entitled to be treated like a princess when all you are is a brat,” he spits in your face.
It took everything in you to not knee the man in his groin. You look away from him to Erwin, seeing his armed crosses at his chest. All of you knew your actions just now we’re not justified and you shouldn’t be talking to your superiors that way. But what Levi was doing right now was completely degrading. The Commander wasn’t big on Levi’s approach, but he let him follow through. He was your Captain after all, he treated you how he saw fit. You grabbed the knob that was pushing into your back and opened the door, causing Levi to stumble back a bit. “I hate men,” you mumbled before slamming the door.
A few cadets stood outside the room with wide eyes and jaws ajar. They had heard the whole thing, some wondered how you were still alive. “What the fuck do you want?” You yelled with gritted teeth. They didn’t say a word, only scattered away. If you could talk to the superiors like that and not get your ass kicked there was no telling what you were capable of deep down.
Levi and the Erwin looked at one another with shocked expressions. “She needs to be put in her place,” Levi grunts. No cadet had pushed his buttons like you have. Erwin held the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger, eyes pressed shut. “She’s a lot like the way you used to be, you know. You gave me a hard time, I guess she’s your karma,” Erwin said somewhat amused. Levi didn’t find anything funny, not even in the slightest.
It had been a few weeks since the incident and Levi hadn’t let you catch a break. If anything things got worse, and you were doing more shit back to back. He went as far as to make you do dishes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a straight two weeks. Your attitude had gotten worse as well and insulting the Captain to his face had become a regular occurrence. “(y/n), I want you to clean the stables and then strip all the cadets beds. The sheets need cleaning,” he said to you with a smirk on his face. Your squad stood in a side by side line as he gave you each a chore. Everyone’s was simple and would only take maybe an hour, but yours would cost the rest of the day. “You’re such a prick,” you said with an enraged tone.
Some of your squad gasps while the others had already grown used to it. Levi wasn’t going to stop until you did, it was stubbornness against stubbornness. Even if you did insult him and yell profanities in his face you’d still do as he said. He got such joy out of ordering you around. “And you’re such a brat,” he said back with an amused smile. Before you could think your hand was starting to swing through the air, your squads face watched in horror. He grabbed your wrist right before it made contact with his face, his eyes never left yours. That was kind of hot, you thought and automatically wanted to slap yourself.
His hand remained on your wrist and his grip tightened, causing you to whimper in pain. “Go to what i’ve asked of you cadets,” he says with that same shit eating grin on his face. They all run away with startled expressions. “Let me go,” you tried to rip away your hand but it was no use. “After you’re done with your tasks come to my quarters, no matter how late it is. Also take a shower before you get anywhere near me, you smell like shit.” You scoffed at his words, “Eat fucking shit, Levi.” Calling him by his name really pissed him off, you hadn’t call him Captain since the Erwin office visit. He let go of your wrist finally and walked off, leaving you vision blurred with anger.
Your fellow cadets didn’t say a word as your sweaty form stripped their beds. The smell coming off of you was gag worthy, but they didn’t dare provoke you. If you could talk to Levi in that manner there was no telling what you’d do to them.
One wrong look and you’d knock their teeth out, no questions asked. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t half-ass clean those stables. But the afternoon was coming in and you still had to clean and hang everyone’s sheets. That would take longer than anything, and you’d probably miss out on lunch and dinner. You sat out in the sun pushing one smelly sheet into the bucket of soap and water after another. The boys bed linen almost made you throw up a few times. Did they ever bath?
After soaking them they were hung up to dry, and with the beaming sun hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. You thought about the whole reason you’d basically became a maid, Captain Levi. The man had his mind set on making your life a living hell, and you returned the favor. The threat to send you back to the military police didn’t scare you one bit, it wasn’t going to happen. You were more skilled at killing titans than anyone else on your squad, and almost all the others. Loosing you would be a great loss for the scouts, and you knew it. Some thought, if it came down to it, you could totally kick Levi’s ass. He had heard that one day and it only exasperated the man further. His ego was bigger than a mountain and that chipped the top off of it.
As the sheets dried you were able to attend lunch, but just barely. Most had already finished and were doing combat training. You managed to stuff down a few pieces of bread to keep you moving for the rest of the day. When you returned back to you duties over half of them had dried and you jumped up and down with joy.
You celebrated too fast, and Levi was coming towards you quickly. The sight made you want to vanish in thin air, what could he possibly want now? “I took a look at the stables, you didn’t even clean half of it.” Of course he went and checked. “I’ll finish it,” you grumbled. He was shocked that he didn’t get a smart response, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now.
The rest of the sheets dried and you returned them to each bed. You had never felt like such a maid before, having to make beds for grown adults. Knowing you had to finish cleaning the stables almost brought you to the edge of tears. All you wanted was to lay in your bed and sleep, to relax the pain filling out your lower back. Pure stench filled your senses as you entered the stables, each horse eyeing you. To be honest these horses scared you, their beady judgemental eyes reminded you of Levi. Thinking about that made you snort out loud, your next insult was definitely going to be telling him he looked like a damn horse.
The sun had set by the time you’d finished, and you wouldn’t be surprised if most had already gone to sleep. Thoughts of your bed made you crack a smile before letting out a deep yawn. You headed straight for the showers, stripping yourself of your sticky clothing. As the satisfaction of hot water ran over your body you sighed and closed your eyes. It was a great feeling that you truly needed.
The happiness was short lived as you remembered that Levi wanted you in his office once you were finished. You wanted to scream at the thought, why the hell does he want to see you? The man can’t stand you so why would he spend his after hours to talk to you? There was no point if he was just going to insult you, but you had no choice.
After getting dressed and somwhat drying your hair, you drag your feet to Levi’s office. You stare at the door for a few seconds, contemplating just going to bed. That would ensure a even more hell filled day tomorrow, so you went ahead and knocked on the door. This shouldn’t last long anyways, right? He’s gonna throw a few insults and you’re gonna leave, easy as that. “Come in,” his deep voice says. You open the door, shut it behind you, and start walking up to his desk. He didn’t expect you to state your name or salute him, so he wasn’t too fazed. You sit down in the wooden chair on the other side of his desk, eyes laced with annoyance. He takes in your state, you looked completely beat.
“Do you know why you’re here (y/n)?” He questioned, his fingers interlocked as they sat upon his desk. The man was trying to be all serious but you weren’t in anyway intimidated. “Nope, but i’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up. See I just did all your dumb chores for you and i’m fucking tired.” The Captain presses his lips in a straight line. He stands up from his seat, moving to your side of the desk and sitting on the edge of it.
He’s close to you now, frame above yours. You look up at him, feeling small under his gaze. “That right there, the unnecessary attitude. I’m tired of you thinking you’re better than everyone, when i’m reality you’re just an entitled brat.” So he’d called you here to argue? You didn’t care how tired you were, this man wasn’t going to walk all over you.
You stand up, eye to eye with him, and growl in his face. “I’m the one who thinks i’m entitled? You order everyone around like some King, Well guess what your highass, no one likes you! You’re just some higher rank motherfucker who thinks their life is more valuable than anyone else. When will you face reality and see we’re not different!” You yell in his face, not holding back at all. Your faces were so closer, barely touching.
The air fell silent at your words and he looked into your eyes. Maybe what he was about to do was pure impulse and should be thought over. But he’s already slamming his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss before he can really think it over. He was baffled when your lips moved with his, tongues already slipping against one another. You couldn’t believe you were kissing him right now, but you couldn’t find it within you to stop.
In one swift move Levi had your back pressed on his desk as he hovered over you, the kiss only intensifying. His fingers pressed at your sides and you let out lights moans onto his lips, only boosting his ego. When his lips moved to your neck you realized what was happening, “What the hell.” Levi heard you mumble and only chuckled. His lips bite and suck at your nape and you can’t hold back the sounds coming from your lips. “I fucking hate you,” you said through clenched teeth.
It was aggravating that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop, you didn’t even want him to. His pillow lips felt like heaven against your skin and you already felt your core start to dampen. After those words pass your lips hes pressing his hand to your neck, stopping any air from making its way in. “Hate me all you want, but I know you’re dying for me to fuck you right now. I bet you’d even beg me,” he said with a smirk. His hand stays wrapped around your neck as his other hand pulls your shorts down your legs. “See, you’re already wet.” He eyes the visible mark on your underwear with a devilish smile.
He lets go of your neck and you immediately start coughing, he was for sure insane. Before you could collect yourself he was biting the inside of your thigh, causing you to yelp. He sucked harshly at the delicate skin and you wince away from his touch. He’s fast to grab your thighs with a firm grip, and you’re unable to move away. You gasp as he licks a long stripe on your still covered core. “So sensitive,” he coos.
You’d die before you admitted it, but Levi looked so incredibly sexy right now. His eyes were sparkling with lust and his lips were a light shade of red from the kissing. His fingers loops on the sides of your underwear and he yanks them off. You watch as he bites his lower lip, eyeing your wet pussy. Before you can even think, his lips are attaching to where you needed him the most.
A long high pitched moan slips past your lips and you’re positive someone had to have heard you. His mouth works against you and you’re a complete mess. You fall onto your back and raise your hips, but his arms are fast to push you back onto the surface. His left hand leaves your waist, and soon he’s plunging two fingers into your hole. “Holy fuck!” You yell in complete ecstasy, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You feel your high approaching as his fingers and mouth continue to work. “Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you say with tears forming in your eyes. He smiles at your words, feeling accomplished. His lips wrap around your bundle of nerves and it send you over the edge. Your legs shake as he sends you through your orgasm.
Before you could even collect yourself he was ripping your shirt over your head, and then his own. He nearly breaks your bra trying to get it off, and you snort at him. You sit up so he doesn’t have to struggle, “I still hate you.” He ignores your words and flips your body over so that you’re facing away from him. The sound of his pants being pulled down makes your stomach drop, shit. You were really about to have sex with this asshole. He enters you without any warning and you let out your loudest moan yet. The man doesn’t bother giving you time to adjust as his hips start moving at a ungodly speed. Your nails dig into the desk at the feeling. Levi was much bigger than you anticipated, definitely the biggest you had ever been with.
The sound of skin slapping together fills the air, mixed with your constant moans. His hand comes down to smack you ass, making red handprints in your skin. The stinging sensation brought you pleasure, and he noticed. His hand cracked down harder and you yelled out in pain and pleasure. “Fuck, if I would’ve know you were such a slut I would’ve already fucked you,” he says breathlessly. He grabs that hair at your scalp, pulling you back into his chest. He fucks up into you harder and you can’t think straight. His fingers stay tangled in your hair as his lips attack your neck, leaving small purple marks on your skin.
“Tell me how much you love it,” he whispers in your ear, “Tell me you love my cock.” The filthy words made you shiver even though your body was on fire. You didn’t answer, mustering up words as fucked you ruthlessly was nearly impossible. He lets go of your scalp, making you fall forward. He grabs ahold of your waist and pushes himself into you deeper, making your mouth fall open. “Tell me, now,” he says before pulling back and shoving himself deeply again. “I love your cock,” you say with tear filled eyes. He smirks in gratification and somehow manages to move his hips even faster. Soon your legs are shaking once again as you reach your second orgasm.
Levi pulls out of you harshly and you’re left limp on his desk. Arms wrap around your frail body and carry you into his bedrooom that was connected to his office. The feeling of the soft bed makes you sigh, it was a lot better than your own. He’s already back between your legs, and you finally get to take in his toned body.
You sit up to run your fingers up and down his stomach, feeling him flinch under your touch. His breath hitches when you keep moving down, fingering wrapping around his still hard dick. You pump your wrist a few times and his eyes shut at the feeling. You guide him back to your aching hole, wanting more. As he enters you, you throw your head back.
He starts moving, hips hitting yours harshly. His elbows sit on either side of your head as he fucks you into the mattress. Foreheads press against one another and his eyes stare into yours. The sight was new to you, his eyes were sparkling differently than in the beginning. You’d never seen this side of Levi, he actually looked loving. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly. Your stomach flipped at his words, it was the first nice thing he’d said to you. To be honest, you didn’t even know he was capable of being nice. Yet he’d just let a compliment slip past his lips.
You legs wrapped around his waist, helping him go deeper. The feeling of your third orgasm approaching had you seeing double. Levi pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss as you moan through your high, and he comes undone inside of you. The room is filled with heavy breathing as you two try to compose yourself.
Levi is the first to say something, “I’m sorry.” You sit up quickly and look at him confused. “I ordered you around like a dog and it wasn’t right. You just have so much pride,” his eyes look at the ceiling, “I wish I could be like that.” You smile softly, he was just damaged more than you knew. “I’m sorry for shit talking you in front of everyone,” you say and can’t help but let out a light laugh.
He smiles and closes his eyes, “you’re still a brat.”
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stevenbasic · 3 years
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8:10, there she is, good fucking god, I thought to myself, peering surreptitiously under the cheap window blind of my second-floor apartment, out into the parking lot. Already several strides from her white beemer, Melissa’s outrageous, hourglass figure grabbed my eye, my attention, my whole fucking beng. Tuesday morning, and I hadn’t actually seen her since Friday; I’d cloistered myself away in my office all day yesterday, refused to see anyone. So, now, watching her utterly magnificent hips in her tight black pants, her long legs strut her towards the building, her huge chest wobbling in a too-small, skin-tight turtleneck top...it was like filling a deep need of mine. What’s wrong with me?!? I fretted, as unconsciously my hand began stroking the huge erection already growing down my thigh...
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He’s watching me he’s watching me I can feel it don’t look don’t look up at his window
<clack-clack-clack-clack>, the sound of Melissa’s new, size-12 red heels on the pavement, carrying her past other parked cars in the lot of Far Horizon Medical Associates. It was early - 8:10! I’m late! - but her mind was already on the big task at hand today: him. She hadn’t seen him since last week, he hadn’t taken as much as a single step out of his office yesterday, and his absence had confused her, bothered her, made her actually upset. Despite being so busy with all the excitement of yesterday, all the new girls, the new construction, an emptiness nagged at her, and there was an itch inside her skin that needed scratching. But now that feeling of his eyes, the thought, the mental image of him spying down at her from his little room upstairs, trying to catch a peek of her as she walked into work, animated her. She had grown used to the gazes of men, had learned to tolerate them and be patient with them. She’d grown accustomed to being the object of their attention, a magnet for it since middle school, but with him, these days, it was different.
She wanted him, she wanted his eyes on her. She craved his attention. And even beyond that, she ached for more from him….more than just him ogling her from a faraway window. She needed more than to be able to have him sit alone all day in his little office, doing whatever it is he does in there, when she’s outside, right there. She needed him to need her. Yes, he was married, technically, still, but she was impatient, now. She wanted him to realize it was over, that his life was changing. She needed him to realize what his next step should be...how much he needed her…
She needed to get him to sign those papers.
She put an extra sway in her hips.
Someone else is watching me too…
<clack-clack-clack-clack>
...there’s someone in that truck.
<clack-clack-clack-clack>
She smiled crookedly at the naughtiness of the plan that just materialized in her head.
Okay...okay...yes...let’s see how he likes this...
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Oooo, okay, yes, there she is… AJ thought, sitting low in his truck, surveying the lot, waiting for her white beemer to pull in. 8:10 in the morning and he was technically late to work; he should have been on the job ten minutes ago. But he’d been here all night, and damned if he wasn’t at least going to get a look at her, this boss-girl Melissa. He at least needed that, to cheer him. Angie had broken up with him, for real, yesterday, and he now had nowhere else to go. He was, now - ffff, shit - basically homeless.
Holy fucking shit, he thought to himself, as her tall, TALL body stretched up and up and up out of her 3-series. Jesus christ, he marveled, as his hand went between his legs, no woman should be allowed to be built like that.
She was walking across the lot, towards the building and closer towards him. She was going to pass right in front of his truck, right by him. He watched her, wide-eyed, and grasped himself through his utility pants. Though his windows were up he swore he could hear the <clack-clack-clack-clack> of her heels as she came nearer, now within twenty feet or so, now just right in front of his truck. He could actually feel them, through his truck, shaking the pavement. God she moves the earth, this girl, he goggled, agape at her huge ass as she passed, and right as - ohmigod! - she turned and looked right at him, over her right shoulder...
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...and smiled at him.
Oh shit, he panicked, swiftly taking his hand out from between his legs, sitting up straight, and trying to smile back through the windshield at her. He was sure, dead sure, that she’d caught him gaping. That smile told him everything.
Oh god, no...no no no...he lamented, she’s turning around. She was turning around, bending over to look through his windshield, and - with a smile of recognition - waving at him.
Flushing red, AJ did everything he could as a man who’d just slept the night in his truck to look put together, calm and collected. She was coming back, around to his side of the car, and he began to roll down his window. He couldn’t help but goggle at her tits, right at eye level.
“Hiiii..!” she sang as she leaned in towards him, forearms resting possessively on the lower edge of the window frame. Her big hands were inside the space of the truck and, not even realizing it, AJ had backed away a bit from this larger person. “You’re Aaron, right? Angie’s, uh…”
She’s fucking gorgeous, AJ couldn’t help but think, momentarily dumbfounded by the twinkle of her eyes, the brightness of her dimpled smile. He knew he was staring, and- had she asked him something?
“Oh, uh - heh heh, yeah, sorry - boyfriend?” he finally managed, recovering his tongue. C’mon, Shaw, he thought, working to rally himself in the face of a beautiful girl, an opportunity to make something happen, you can do this, turn it on. “Well, ex-boyfriend…”
To that, Melissa smiled, and AJ’s heart skipped a beat. The body language this chick was giving him was all-signals-go. Leaned in as she was, she filled the space between him and the outside. Her body moved languorously, slightly rocking at the hips; anyone watching from the building would be getting quite a show as she swayed that ass slowly to and fro...
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What is she doing?? he fretted, what the hell is she doing??
He’d watched her, covertly gawking from his little upper-level window, and had immediately started to worry when she’d stopped in her tracks, turned to talk to some guy in a pickup. A guy! One of the construction guys, he grumbled, knowing the jealousy that immediately tightened his throat was unreasonable, she shouldn’t be talking to a guy! She’s flirting, she’s totally flirting.
His pulse quickened, a cold shiver prickled his skin. He, this meathead, was probably tall, young, strong. Someone she’d find cute, attractive, maybe funny. It burned at him, and he hated it. But, from where he was, all he could do was watch.
Good fucking lord look at that ass…
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Melissa felt them on her, she felt his eyes, from that upstairs window. They were on her rear, and the gaze of them warmed her, brought a moist heat between her legs. In response she embellished it, displaying herself to him, lazily rolling her hips as she leaned over, talking to this skinny, nervous guy in the truck. He could watch her from his little post, from that little window, he could watch all he wanted. I like him looking at my butt, thinking about it. And he could have it, it could be his, she thought, presenting herself, getting wetter as she imagined him staring at her, maybe getting hard...
“I was a model, yes,” she answered, as AJ’s questions had come predictably to her appearance. She did her best to act flirty, though her thoughts were distracted, elsewhere, upstairs in that apartment. “That was me, the Mega-Milk girl…”
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my apologies but I have no idea who did the morphing in the first image. I've left it untouched/no faceswap so if anyone can figure it out, I'd love to credit the artist. In the meantime, enjoy the curves.
More GITJ stuff at my Patreon
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Last Christmas (M)
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Angst, smut, fluff
Word Count: 11k
Warnings: mentions of past bad relationships, oral (f receiving), fairly vanilla sex
(A/N): I am aware this is a common title 🙄 I’m very insecure about my angst writing skills and my golly gosh I was not happy with this at first. So I edited it several times and now it’s... acceptable. Hope y’all enjoy! (Inspired by me listening the Last Christmas by Wham! 20,000 times)
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“Crowded room, friends with tired eyes/
I’m hiding from you and your soul of ice”
-Last Christmas by Wham!
Holiday parties can be one of two things. They could either be the most exciting, eventful get together of the year, filled with laughter and happenings that will be talked about all the way until the next party. Or they can be a dreadfully stressful evening of avoiding that One Person and stuffing your face full of cookies and eggnog— trying to figure out when’s an appropriate time to leave without being rude because you only really came to show your face for the person that invited you. Last year’s party was the happier option for Jimin, one he’ll never forget; but unfortunately, this year has become the latter situation where his choices from the previous party have come to bite him in the ass.
He stands somewhere in the corner, out of sight and avoiding the crowd as everyone mingles merrily over the festive music playing in the background. All night has been like this, terribly boring as he watches his friends joke around and have fun. A few times he’s gone over to the group when he felt it was safe to do so, trying to appear as normal and relaxed as possible as Seokjin scolded him for being a wallflower. He didn’t even want to come, he reminds them, he would have been happy to stay home and mope all night instead of being subjected to this torture.
‘But you have to come, this party is tradition!” Hoseok whined when Jimin first told them this 2 weeks ago. The others had similar complaints.
‘Yeah, it’ll ruin the whole night if you don’t show.’ Jungkook’s pout was pretty convincing, part of the reason why Jimin caved. When he finally agreed, Taehyung had thrown an arm over his shoulders with that carefree grin of his.
‘Don’t let her keep you from having fun! Show up and show off how good of a time you’re having. She doesn’t control your life and you need to start acting like it.’
But Taehyung was completely wrong about that because you had an unimaginable amount of control over him even after so much time. His eyes were wide and paranoid from the moment he walked through the doors, hoping that you wouldn’t see him or try to approach— hoping that he wouldn’t see you and fall apart. And even after initially locating you on the other side of the room chatting to someone else, Jimin couldn’t freely move about the room without keeping his eyes on you to maintain a safe distance. He wouldn’t allow himself to become too distracted in fear of losing sight of you and having an awkward encounter, so he barely spoke to his friends and kept a solo cup of punch as his only companion. Even if he hadn’t come, if he had stayed in his home like he wanted, you would probably still have power over him. He’d probably catch himself wondering if you decided to show up or if you were just as nervous to see him as he was. Would likely daydream about what creative outfit you’d chosen to dress yourself in because he’s been told you usually go all out for parties like these. Maybe he’d scroll through the messages he still hasn’t deleted from his phone, remembering, regretting, reliving both the good and the bad of everything that happened between you two in the course of the past year. Thinking about the events that led him to this, all starting at last year’s party.
*** *** *** ***
One Year Ago
*** *** *** ***
“Who is she?” Jimin stares at you over the lip of his cup, sipping slowly on his drink. Seokjin glances at where his friend is looking, lounging drunkenly on the sofa cushions and loudly singing the wrong words to the Christmas music blasting through the speakers.
“Why? You have a crush on her or something?” He smirks, chuckling at the scandalized expression that Jimin turns to him with.
“A crush? I’m not in the 5th grade, hyung,” He rolls his eyes. “I’m just asking because I’ve never seen her around before...” Jimin finishes quietly, mumbling into his cup as he takes another sip. But before he can swallow fully, Jin is calling you over with a wave of his hand.
You turn your head at the sound of his voice and Jimin swears his heart stops beating in his chest as a bright smile spreads on your lips at the sight of your friend. You walk over with confidence and he has no choice but to take in your body, curves and lines caressed by the tightest onesie he’s ever seen. You’ve come to the party dressed as Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, your deer onesie zipped low enough for the tops of your cleavage to be revealed and your makeup colored flawlessly to match, freckles spotted along your cheeks and red painted at the tip of your nose. It shouldn’t be sexy, but you could probably make a trash bag look like lingerie with your looks. Jimin shifts in his seat when you come to stand in front of the two men, popping your hip as you look down at them.
“Yes, Seokjin?” You only spare a glance at Jimin before your eyes return to Jin, but his linger on you shamelessly.
“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” He sits up into a proper sitting position, pointing to the man beside him. “(Y/n), this is Park Jimin. Jimin, this is (Y/n). You’re welcome.” Abruptly, he stands and walks away, heading over to bother Jungkook in another part of the large room.
“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” You extend your hand toward him and he fumbles with his cup between his hands at the gesture, eventually composing himself to stand and give you a proper handshake. Since he was seated on the couch and you had come to stand directly in front of him, you now stand a bit too close to each other, his body trapped between yours and the couch. But you don’t retreat, not even moving back a step as you inspect him from head to toe.
The two of you spent more than 2 whole hours talking, relentlessly flirting with each other as you discovered that you shared many things in common. You laughed at his jokes and gave him your full attention the entire night, your hand always finding it’s way onto his arm or knee as you pressed closer to him on the couch cushions as the night went on. It was obvious that you were very attracted to him, but Jimin didn’t want to be too forward and make you uncomfortable so he kept his hands to himself until you finally cracked and pulled his hand onto your upper thigh.
Looking into your eyes, he could clearly see the lust swirling in your irises, so it wasn’t a surprise when you pulled him upstairs into a bathroom, locking the door behind you and kissing him up against it. Nor was it surprising when you allowed him to lift you onto the countertop of the sink and bury his face between your thighs, tasting you until you had to clap a hand over your mouth to suppress your moans. What did surprise Jimin, however, was how amazing it felt to be inside you, his knees feeling weak as he pounded you into the hard surface and bit back the needy groans bubbling in his throat. You almost killed him when you dropped to your knees and took his tip into your mouth, sucking and swallowing every drop of his release as he gasped in elation. It took him several minutes to collect himself after the ordeal, but you sat on the counter and talked to him as you both calmed down and quickly agreed that this should become a regular thing.
It was about 5 months in that Jimin realized that he had serious feelings for you. The realization came when he couldn’t stop thinking about you— even in a non-sexual context— and started thinking about what it would be like if you were his. And when he finally gathered the courage to ask you out on a date, his heart nearly exploded when you said ‘yes’.
Yet his joy was short lived because his phone rang on the day of your date and you explained to him that you had been “thinking about some things” after a conversation with Jin. You had been talking about the newest episode of a tv show with him when he mentioned how awkward it would be if 2 of his friends ever started dating. He said he would hate to be a middle man between them, especially in an argument or breakup, and how hanging out with them would never be the same, how it would be weird to spend time with them separately but that he would be a third wheel if they were together. Of course, Jin didn’t know that you and Jimin were sleeping together, even if he was the one who introduced you, but his comment got you thinking and now you weren’t sure if you wanted to go out with him anymore. You told him that you needed time to think about it more deeply, but you are a logical person who never makes decisions without analyzing every outcome, so Jimin knew that it would be a long time before he got an answer from you. In the meantime, you suggested, you could continue to be friends because you had grown so used to his company, but things were awkward, and eventually communication dropped between you and you fell out of touch for the rest of the year.
A few times Jimin had wanted to text you. Ask if you still thought about him or if you ever intended to give him an answer. Maybe just check to see if you were doing well since he does still care about you. He still thinks about you almost everyday. Still wets his pillow with tears on hard nights. But his pride keeps him from reaching out, always afraid of your rejection.
*** *** ***
A sharp tap on the shoulder startles Jimin out of his thoughts and he almost drops the plate of cookies in his hands. Turning, his face pales as he is met with your inquisitive stare, beautiful face betraying little emotion. Before he can stop himself his eyes are scanning down your body, the ugly Christmas sweater dress you’ve elected to wear looking so cute on you, and he’s certain you’re the only person who could pull that off.
“Are you avoiding me? I haven’t seen you all night.” Blunt as ever, you stare directly into his soul as he squirms, looking down at the snack table in front of him and pretending to contemplate which goodies to pick up.
“No, I’ve been around.” He answers coyly.
“Not around your friends.” Your eyes shift behind him to the cackling group of men standing several feet away. This simple statement makes his heart jump. Had you been looking for him? Were you actually eager to see him tonight despite everything that’s happened? He tries to squash the tiny bud of hope in his chest, clearing his throat when you continue to stare at him.
“Like I said, I’ve been around. I’m not avoiding you.” This comes out quietly, he’s never been good at lying. But you make a sound of agreement and nod, not pressing him about it further. He watches from the corner of his eye as you turn your attention to the snack table now, looking as though you were going to pick something up, but when you realize that neither of you are moving and waiting for the other, you turn your head to him again.
“Do you- can we talk?” You ask abruptly and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He doesn’t know how to respond to this. Would it really be a good idea for him to talk to you? He’s tried so hard over these past months to extinguish the flame he felt for you, to lock away those feelings so he doesn’t get hurt anymore than he already has, but looking at you now— standing so close to him that he can smell the scent of your holiday themed body spray— has his heart working double time. One look into your eyes and he’s ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. He’s not sure how he’ll react if you actually got him alone.
Even still, he agrees.
Of course it’s after several seconds of silence and wide-eyed staring, but the smile you give eases his awkwardness once he finally gets the words out. It’s with lead limbs that he follows you through the crowd, weaving through friends and acquaintances until the noise of the room becomes muffled and you are the only person he can see. This is different, though. Flashes of last year keep coming back to him, the parallels making his head spin, but the air is different. Instead of sexual tension between you two it’s just regular tension. The air is tight in his lungs, but this time it’s not from excitement— it’s nervousness. The hallway you guide him to is private and out of sight, but this time you’re alone for an entirely different reason. He can sense the tension in your body even through the zip-tight facade you have on display.
When you come to a stop and face him, both of you are biting your lips, and it looks as if you’re trying to find the best way to put your words. You both stand with your backs to the opposite walls of the hall, the distance between you feeling necessary in order to think properly.
“How have you been?” You start quietly, lips pressed tightly together as though forcing yourself not to say the wrong things. “I’ve wanted to call you, text you, do anything to show that I still acknowledge your existence on this planet- but I’m a coward so I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So how are you?”
Again, Jimin finds himself not knowing how to answer. He could say he’s fine, but what good would that do in this situation? Taking a deep breath, he speaks.
“Honestly, it’s been hard, (Y/n). I know we never dated, I’m just the idiot that caught feelings in a strictly sexual arrangement, but it still hurts. You left me hanging.”
“You’re not an idiot.” You say quietly and he gives you a blank look before returning his gaze to the floor.
“... How have you been?” The words sound forced even on his own ears, but he can’t help but ask. He relates so deeply to what you said about not having the guts to reach out first. So many times he’s pulled up your contact, typed something out that resembles accepting the apology you never gave, but then he’d remind himself that if you wanted to talk to him you would, but you haven’t so you don’t.
“Miserable. I keep thinking about how it was when we were ‘together’ and how stupidly I acted. We were good together. I opened up to you more than I have to 99% of the people I know, and you did the same to me. I loved being with you— it wasn’t just about the sex— and I knew you felt the same way, but I froze up at the possibility of being your girlfriend. So I kept replaying everything that happened between us from the first day to the last, trying to make sense of it all and it was exhausting. A year feels like so long, but at the same time it feels like no time has passed at all.”
You were right about that. Standing in front of you now, it seems like he just saw you yesterday. He’s reminded of the last time he saw you in person, your head on his lap as he asked you out to dinner, beaming up at him as you spoke the magic words to him. “I did feel the same way. Truthfully, I liked you after our first night together and things just got better and better from there. I had so much hope. You seemed so happy with me, which made it hurt so much worse when you turned me down.” His eyes never leave the ground as he speaks.
He doesn’t see how your eyebrows crease. “I was happy! I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time when I was with you, but-“ You trail off with a shake of your head, biting your lip when you can’t think of the right words. “Jimin, I’m so sorry I hurt you. It really is all my fault.”
“But what? Would dating me really make that much of a difference?” You were basically a couple already, he doesn’t see what the problem could have been. He refuses to believe that you simply didn’t like him enough. Yet, a cold chill climbs up his limbs at the thought.
“No.” His eyes connect with yours and it’s your turn to look away.
“Then why did-“ He doesn’t even need to finish his question before you’re shaking your head.
“Because I was scared. Like I said, I’m a coward.” Jimin hates when you put yourself down like that. Hates to see you look so guilty even though he knows you probably should.
There’s a long pause.
“Then were you ever going to give me an answer?” Quietly, the words slip past his lips before he can even think about them. They float over to you and dance around your head as if taunting you. If Jin was truly the obstacle of your relationship, you both could have just asked him. No, Jimin isn’t asking you if you were willing to risk Jin’s comfort to be with him. He was asking you if you shared his feelings. If you wanted to be with him. And the answer isn’t as straightforward as he would have liked.
“I typed out an answer to you so many times, but I couldn’t send it. I’m sorry I waited so long to talk to you, but the more I looked at my words the more uncertain I got and eventually I felt like you wouldn’t want to hear from me at all. I really am sorry, Jimin.”
Finding his eyes again, you see Jimin stiffen. He looks tired almost, as if exhausted by his own worries and thoughts, and you sag when you notice this.
“What would you have said?” His words come louder than his previous ones, though they seem much more fragile. He blinks at you, watching your chest heave for breath at the question. Dread fills his stomach like a heavy stone in his gut.
“I like you a lot, Jimin, I do. But-“
Without a second thought, he spins on his heel and walks back toward the party, leaving you stunned with a gaping mouth. His heart twists painfully as he paces away from you, weaving his way through the crowd and toward the door. It’s one thing to worry and think the worst, but Jimin has been clinging onto that one shred of hope, and hearing you confirm his fears out loud would be the worst heartbreak. Your rejection would sicken him and he had no intention of crying in front of you or at a holiday party filled with his friends, so he made the split decision to leave.
He should have never come. He would’ve happily stayed in blissful ignorance for another year instead of having to experience this. This pain is the worst.
He can tell you’ve started to follow behind him but he doesn’t care. Swooping past the pile of coats on one of the couches and picking his from the top, slinging it across his body as he pushes open the door. The cold winter air bites at his nose as he pushes on toward his car, sniffling from both the weather and the emotions stuck in his throat. Soon, he hears your footsteps behind him, heeled boots clicking on the frozen pavement as you scurry after him. He doesn’t even look back.
“Jimin, wait-“ How childish of him to run off like this, you must be thinking, and he listens to your hurried steps with a frown as he imagines the pout on your lips and distress in your eyes. “I- Ah!”
Your dramatic gasp and the sound of your body hitting the concrete is enough to stop him. And his body reacts on instinct.
Whipping around he sees you wincing on the cold ground, cradling your ankle with one hand, and suddenly he’s rushing back over to you. You move to stand, attempting a tentative step forward, and Jimin reaches you just in time as you collapse again and fall forward into his arms.
“Jimin, that’s not what I meant-“
“Did you hurt your ankle?” He cuts you off, focused solely on the foot you hold limply above the ground.
“I-“ Noticing that he won’t meet your eyes, you relent, cheeks burning. “Y-Yeah.” The sidewalk is cracked and uneven where you stand, your heels likely stepping right into the crack and causing your twisted ankle. He clicks his tongue.
Any logical person might have taken you back into the party where the host, your friend, would surely be able to help. But instead he scoops you up into his arms princess style and continues down the path toward his car. You say nothing, simply looking at his side profile as he walks. Jimin refuses to look at you even with his arms wrapped around your body, feeling a distinct warmth not only from your body pressed to his, but also from your unyielding gaze. It’s almost as if you are studying every inch of his face, awed by the sight as though you missed it. As if you missed him. His face heats uncomfortably but he ignores it, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead until you reach his vehicle.
Opening the back door, he sets you inside, well aware of your momentary surprise when he slides in next to you and shuts the door. Holding out his hand, he waits for you to get the message, and slowly you raise your leg up until your ankle rests in his lap. The silence is tense. The enclosed space is only slightly warmer than the whipping wind and bitter cold outside, but currently neither of you are sure which you would prefer more. He removes your boot with some difficulty but takes care not to hurt you, reaching down to slip off the other and note the difference in size. Your ankle has begun swelling a bit, though the damage is minimal likely because of the cold. Your mouth opens with unspoken words, he can see this from his peripheral, but you end up closing it again without a sound.
The leather of his seats crinkle when you shift and the noise feels far too loud. His car smells of the air freshener he’s placed somewhere, a woody and spicy scent that reminds you of cuddles by a warm fireplace— the smell calming you somewhat as you allow him to continue his examination. As gently as he can, Jimin pokes at your ankle around the swollen area, pressing one finger over a spot that makes you hiss, and finally his eyes snap up to yours.
“What are you doing?” His eyes flicker away from you again at the question.
“I’m checking your ankle, it seems a little swollen-“
“No- what are you doing? Why did you walk away from me? Why did you bring me to your car?”
If he had an answer for you, surely he would give it, but he’s trying to figure all of those things out himself. What was his goal? Did he subconsciously want to talk to you somewhere away from the party, in a place where he was comfortable, that he could control? He thought he didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but here you are, alone with him again.
“I don’t know.” He answers lamely. “Did you walk here? I know you don’t live far— I can give you a ride home if you want.”
“I don’t want a ride home, I want you to listen to me!” At the raise of your voice everything stops. It even seems like the wind outside has paused. You weren’t angry, you were tired of him ignoring you when he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yourself. You bring your voice back down when he drops his hands. “Could you listen to me? Please.”
“... Okay.” Like a child, he sits stiffly with his hands folded and fidgeting, body half turned toward you, but you take that as sign enough to start.
“You asked me what I would have said to you in my message. You didn’t let me finish.” He swallows at your irritated tone, but it softens when you take a deep breath. “I was saying that I really do like you Jimin, but I just didn’t realize how much I liked you until I had already ruined things. I would have said that I’d love to date you, that hearing you ask me out was the happiest moment I’ve had in a long time— but I kept doubting myself. I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint you. That we’ll start dating and just when I’m finally happy you’ll realize I’m not everything you thought I was and leave me. I’ve had some really bad relationships in the past and I felt like they’d come back to haunt me and you’d realize how damaged I am and get fed up because I’m not sensitive enough or too paranoid or too... broken.”
“(Y/n),” Seeing you so insecure like this hurts his heart. His hand returns to your leg. “I already know about your past relationships and trauma. You told me about it all and I still asked you out after I knew. I would never think that way about you.”
“I know you wouldn’t, that’s one of the reasons I fell so hard for you. That’s why it’s called an irrational fear. Even though I knew this, I still panicked when you asked me out and all of those thoughts came flooding in. And when Jin made the comment about his friends dating... I guess I was looking for an out. You did absolutely nothing wrong, but I pushed you away because I couldn’t handle the thought that you would want me, of all people.” You mumble your last sentence, but he hears you loud and clear. “I’m sorry, I do some pretty stupid things when I’m in love.”
When you’re in love? 
Jimin doesn’t say anything for a long while, shocked into silence by your last statement. It’s a lot to take in, he’s just gone from believing you were about to rip his heart out and reject him, to hearing you say that you’re in love with him.
“So... what does this mean for us?” He hears himself ask, not conscious of his mouth moving to produce the words.
“I-If the offer still stands, I’d really like to date you. That is, if I didn’t already screw everything up and you still have feelings for me.” Your eyes looks so innocent when you look at him. You are usually fairly stoic, eyes betraying little emotion except for when you’re extremely happy or flirting— this is one of the few times he’s gotten to see this side of you. Being vulnerable is something you struggle with, it’s rare for you to be in this type of position where someone else holds your fate, your heart, in their hands.
He can’t hold back the small smile that makes its way onto his face, meeting your eyes without any apprehension this time. “You didn’t screw anything up, (Y/n).” He doesn’t say anything more after you return his smile, he simply exits the car and rounds the front to the drivers seat. The air shifts and it’s no longer as suffocatingly tense as it was moments prior, much to your relief.
The ride to his home is quiet, you don’t dare speak or look out the window for the entirety of the trip because you’re so focused on the back of his seat and the glimpse of his face you can catch whenever he shifts. He’s fairly certain you’re trying to figure out what exactly is running through his mind right now— and so is he, honestly— but you won’t ask him yet. He hasn’t really given you a proper response, you can only hope that his comment meant that he holds no ill feelings toward you and would also like the chance to date you, but you hate assuming. Your pride has your questions caught in your throat, though.
You seem a bit startled when he parks in front of his building. He answers your curious gaze with the excuse that he can better take care of your injury here and insists that you stay the night since it’s already so late. Cheeks burning, Jimin tries to ignore the small chuckle you let out when he stammers, his arm wrapping around you to help you out of his car. He takes revenge on you, however, as he lifts you back into his arms like before, not even allowing you to place your feet on the ground as he walks into the apartment complex despite your complaints, smirking slyly when your face colors the same as his at the odd looks you receive from the other passengers of the elevator.
He puts you down only when you reach the couch inside his apartment, setting you gently on the soft cushions and offering to take your coat from your shoulders. He hadn’t even asked if you had all of your belongings from Jin’s house before he impulsively drove you here, something that he apologizes profusely for, though you wave him off and assure him that you only brought your coat and the things you could fit in its pockets with you.
Not knowing what else to say, Jimin stands in front of you for several long seconds as you look up at him with soft eyes. He’s caught now, forgetting everything that he was doing as he looks back at you sitting so prettily on his couch. That look you have in your eyes is the same one that gave him enough courage to ask you out months ago, your irises nearly sparkling even in the dull lighting of his living room. It takes his breath away and he is momentarily stunned, frozen in place with a heart that beats out of his chest. What was he even supposed to be doing? Your coat is in his hands and he fiddles with it, trying to remember where he wanted to put it before you blindsided him with those beautiful eyes. Ah, yes. The coat closet. Blinking, you take note of how he shifts from one foot, then the other, before clearing his throat.
“I’ll be right back.” Jimin turns from you immediately as he feels his cheeks start to color pink. It feels heavy, having all of those wilting and withering emotions come slamming back down on him with just one look. He’s dazed as he hangs both of your coats in his closet, picking up compression bandages and scissors from his first aid kit then swinging past his kitchen to retrieve an ice pack for you.
When he returns he sees you still seated rather uncomfortably on his sofa, body tense and on the very edge of the seat. You were never this awkward in his home before, even during your first time here— granted, you did spend the first few hours naked in his bedroom, eliminating most of the discomfort you’d feel when he decided to give you a tour of the rest of the place afterward. But Jimin somewhat expected that you would settle right in even though things have changed since the last time you were here. Guess not.
“You can get comfortable, you know. You don’t have to act like a stranger.” He tries to laugh but it comes out a bit dry, the pull on his lips looking a bit forced. And it hits him then that he’s the one that’s nervous. While you seem to be trying your hardest to be polite, he’s actually the one that feels pressured. Swallowing hard, he takes a seat next to you and lifts your injured foot onto his lap again, this time feeling hyper aware of where your body touches his. His hands shake the entire time he wraps your ankle and he’s sure you’ve noticed by how intensely you stare as he works. It’s embarrassing to say the least, but he can’t seem to calm himself. Not when you’re so close to him again and especially not now that he knows how you truly feel about him. So, reluctantly, he removes your legs from him once he’s finished and sets up some pillows over the armrest for you to elevate your foot and places the ice pack on your ankle. “So, um, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”
*** *** ***
One thing Jimin has always found endearing about you is how quickly you tend to fall asleep once relaxed enough. The movie is little over halfway through when he sees your head nodding beside him, catching him by surprise when you lean over to rest it on his shoulder. He shifted you to lay against his strong thigh so you can get more comfortable, and now he’s completely forgotten about the movie as he watches you sleep peacefully against him. Staring down at you like this has all of his worries slipping away, your words from earlier finally sinking in and allowing him to finally react. This was all he ever wanted, you to give him a chance and reciprocate his feelings, and now that it’s happening it doesn’t quite feel real. But you are very real. He confirms this by caressing his thumb over your cheek, planting a soft kiss on your forehead that makes your eyes flutter open.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He whispers sheepishly, but you simply shake your head.
“No, it’s okay.” You stretch but don’t bother to move away from him. You’re far too tired for awkwardness and would much rather return to normalcy with him.
“How’s your ankle?” He asks gently, glancing at where it remains propped up at the end of the couch.
“Mm, a little sore,” He frowns at that, feeling guilty. “But it’s not that bad! I’m fine, really.”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got hurt.”
“No it isn’t, it’s my fault for not looking where I was going.”
“But you wouldn’t have needed to watch where you were going if I didn’t storm away from you like that.”
You let out a heavy sigh at this. “Just drop it, okay? It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll be back to normal in a few days.” You turn your head toward the tv to take in what was happening on the screen, allowing the noise of the movie to fill the quiet that falls between you two.
“I won’t do that again.” Jimin states quietly, playing with the hair at the very top of your head. “In the future, I won’t walk away from you until we work things out like adults. You didn’t deserve that tonight.” Something about how he says this makes your heart stutter. You turn back around slowly, lips parted as you look up at him.
“In the future? As in, you want to have a future with me?” Realizing how that sounds, you quickly try to backtrack as you sit upright with a wave of your hands. “I mean in the near future, not like you want a future with me like we’re getting married or something! You know what I meant, right? I wasn’t implying that... y-yeah.“ At the amused look on his face, you stop, closing your mouth before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. You’re never like this around him. You never used to fumble for words or feel the need to explain yourself like you do now, but suddenly the pounding of your heart has you tongue tied and jittery. Your nervousness makes Jimin feel a little bolder.
“Yes, (Y/n). In both the near and far future, I’ll always treat you with respect. You’ve had it hard. I want to be the one to show you that relationships can be good— that you can trust me to respect you as a person and can put your faith in me. So yes, I want there to be a future.” You blink at him and he has to laugh at the dumbfounded look on your face.
“...Does this mean you’ll give me a chance and date me?” He nods. “You’re not upset? I left you waiting unanswered for months, I would’ve thought you would at least need some time to... reconsider?”
“What’s there to reconsider? My feelings for you are just as strong as the last time I saw you, (Y/n), that hasn’t changed.” Your eyes drop to where his hand lands on your thigh, making you gulp. “We wasted enough time not being together this year, what’s the point in wasting another second? Sure, I was hurt before tonight, but hearing you explain everything so openly to me made me happier than you can imagine. I want you to go out with me. I want you to see how much I care about you and know how far I’ll go to make you happy, and fall for me just like I’ve fallen for you.”
He seems resolute when he says this, serious but sweet all the same, and now it’s your turn to be shocked and dazed by how honest he’s being at the moment. This must have been how he felt earlier, unable to say the right words or relax his body even after your reassurance. You want to tell him that what he said is pretty silly. Silly because you already fell for him without even realizing it and there’s little else he needs to do to prove himself in your eyes. Unable to vocalize all of this, you simply move closer to him until you’re face to face. His hands come to softly rest on your waist out of habit, stabilizing you as you slowly rise on your knees and lean into his lips, kissing them innocently to convey what you feel.
As soon as your lips find his, chills shoot throughout his body. God, he’s missed your lips. Missed the way you smile into the kiss when he presses deeper and pulls you closer with his insistent hands. You tell him everything he needs to know with every movement you make, your hands snaking up from his chest to his neck where they twine loosely in the hair at the back of his head. His breath hitches when you throw a leg over his hips to straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs until it bunches around your hips. You pull away from his mouth, panting and grinning in his lap.
“Okay.” You nod, accepting him.
“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile.
“Yes. I want that, too.” He allows you to press into him again, his back molding into the cushions of the seat as you rest your weight on him fully.
“Good.” You can see he’s trying not to look overly excited by this because he’s biting his lips hard to contain his smile, but his eyes betray his happiness to you. When he sees you smiling at him, he buries his face in your neck, leaving playful butterfly kisses that flutter ticklishly against the skin of your neck, chest, and shoulders causing you to giggle.
“Jimin stop, that tickles!” You squeal, halfheartedly squirming to get away, but he has his hands tight on your hips to keep you in place. Giggling at your playfulness, he lets his lips linger just a little longer with each peck, stealing licks and nibbles every so often until he trails his way back up to your lips. His fingers slide down to press into the smooth skin of your exposed thighs, wanting but not pushy even as the kisses become hungrier.
You didn’t intend on your make out session turning into anything more, but the atmosphere quickly shifts in that direction as soon as your hips start to roll against his. As soon as your crotch meets his, Jimin bucks into you slightly and you let out a mewl into his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He feels your body start to heat when he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring you in sync with the rolls of you hips. Just having you close to him again has his body reacting and he’s sure you can feel him hardening in his slacks, light hisses leaving him whenever you catch his tip against your thigh or pull at his roots, tugging his head back to you every time he tries to pull away to gasp. A wet patch seeps into his briefs beneath your expert hips, ruining his slacks from the inside while you ruin them from the outside with the wetness you drip from your panties.
Jimin’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress, breaking from you shortly to silently ask your permission, and once you nod he delicately removes the clothing item before tossing it to the other side of the sofa. Taking it further, he pulls down the cups of your bra to expose your breasts to him, gently rubbing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples.
“So pretty,” He whispers, bending down to take one into his mouth, sucking the bud as you hump against him faster. Your fingers, still wound in his hair, keep him steady at your chest, tiny whimpers leaving your lips at each flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth against your pert nipple. He works around your tits just how you like it, having learned exactly what makes you mewl from the many times he’s found himself in your bed. Your chest is glossy by the time you peel him away, the pressure in your core no longer satisfied by your grinding, and he gives you a questioning look when you move to stand in front of him with your hands on the button of his slacks. Completely forgetting about your ankle, your leg gives as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot and Jimin catches you swiftly, flipping you so that you now lay against the cushions with him kneeling in front of you. “Be careful,” He scolds lightly, trailing kisses up your thighs.
“You don’t want me to give you the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’?” He snorts at your puppy eyes, pulling down your panties with a shake of his head.
“Not today,” The pecks he leaves up your inner thighs have goosebumps prickling your skin.
“But you love the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’!” Your pout becomes more prominent when he spreads your legs further apart, anticipation building exponentially in your gut.
“Please stop calling it that,” Jimin laughs, eyes squinting cutely at you. “Tonight I wanna  show you how much I missed you. Just relax, baby, let me take care of you.” He doesn’t give you time for a rebuttal, diving down to lick up the arousal that dribbles down your folds, following the trail up with his tongue until he reaches your clit with a flick. You moan immediately and he’s almost surprised by your sensitivity, concealing a small smirk by dipping down to do it again.
His fingers part your lower lips, allowing him to press his tongue more firmly on your bud, and it’s all you can do not to shriek at the bolts of pleasure it sends up your spine. It’s like he’s injected lava into your veins, heat spreading all throughout your body and pooling in your core with every eager swipe of his tongue against your bud, setting your nerves alight. Jimin has always shown enthusiasm for oral— you remember one night in particular where he pinned you down and wouldn’t let up until you were begging and crying for him to stop as your 5th orgasm of the night washed over you— but this is something different entirely. His movements are slow and deliberate, sensual patterns drawn against your most intimate areas to build you up slowly but steadily, focused solely on your throbbing clit that practically begs for his attention. He has his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every emotion that flickers across your features and noting what brings you the most pleasure, although he already knows from experience.
“Mmh,” He growls into you as you continue to drip for him. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, your essence coating his cheeks and chin messily. It smears against his lips when you start to rock into him, moaning lewdly in tandem with your movements and holding onto the back of his head for leverage. He really doesn’t mind how you hold his face so tightly to your center. The heat from your core and thighs give his cheeks a delightful flush but he doesn’t pull away for a second, instead using his lips to suck on your pearl until your legs quiver around him. One of his hands drops down to palm at the ever increasing tent in his pants, his dick already at full hardness and twitching impatiently for the chance to be inside you. Just thinking about being inside your wet heat again makes his eyes roll— fuck, he needs to calm down before he cums in his pants. But he can’t help but shift his hips in search of friction when two of his fingers enter you with no resistance, slipping in to the knuckle because of the copious amounts of fluids you leak. It’s easy to find your spot, and when he does your back arches from the chair.
“Fuck, Jimin, I’m close.” You gasp out, tossing your head back as you rub yourself against his face more forcefully.
“Already?” He mumbles against you, the words muffled because he refuses to pull away, but the vibrations of his voice go straight through you. All you can offer is a needy whine to him but it’s more than enough for him to double his efforts. He pushes at your thigh to open you again, then flattens his wet muscle over your clit, using his whole mouth to please you with broad licks that make your toes curl. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he strokes at your spot, pulsing synchronously with the bud against his tongue, and he catches the most beautiful look take over your face as he brings you to climax.
Your skin flushes as the high overtakes you, mouth parted to let out the cutest moans and curses mixed with his name, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows scrunched together as wave after wave crashes down on you. His name has never sounded better to him as it falls from your pretty lips on repeat, drowning out the squelch of your wetness as he fingers you through your bliss. Feeling you pulsate around him is a feeling he’ll never get tired of, but he’d much rather feel you throb around his cock instead of his fingers, his hips bucking up into the air in anticipation.
“So fucking sexy,” Jimin groans, obsessed with the way your hips squirm when it becomes too much. His wet lips press kisses down your trembling leg as you catch your breath, ending with your tender ankle that he babies apologetically.
“Holy shit.” You finally find it within yourself to whisper, melting into the couch beneath you.
“You okay? I’ve never seen you cum that hard before.” He isn’t teasing when he says this, but your cheeks heat up regardless, averting your eyes away from his gentle gaze.
“I haven’t slept with anyone since you, so I’m a little hypersensitive now.” It’s been months since anyone has touched you. Truthfully, it wasn’t only because you felt bad because of your silence toward Jimin, but that certainly played a part in it. Even still, you don’t like how his face morphs into shock as if there’s a horn growing out of your forehead. “Stop looking at me like that!”
“Oh, no it’s just- I haven’t been with anyone else either...” He didn’t like to think about it, but he assumed that you were getting your needs fulfilled by someone else after you had stopped talking to him. Knowing you hadn’t been with anyone else makes an odd relief come over him. Now he’s blushing too and you still can’t look at him, but he climbs up your body to kiss you anyway, easing your momentary shyness. The kiss reignites your desire and suddenly he feels your hands tugging at his zipper, working to free his member from his confinement. He takes this time to remove his own shirt, unclipping your bra and tossing it into the pile of clothes that now sits at the end of his couch as you yank down his slacks and briefs in one go.
His length springs free before you, the sight pulling a whimper from your lips. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, thick and long and smooth in all the right places, and it never fails to make you gush every time you see it. You can practically feel it inside you already and you can’t wait another minute, wrapping your warm fingers around the base and stroking drips of precum from the tip. Jimin groans with a bite of his lip, removing your hands from him and leaning away.
“Turn over for me.” He instructs, gripping himself as he watches you spin onto your knees with your arms draped over the back of the couch. You look back at him with flirtatious eyes, wiggling your ass at him to entice him into action. A smack lands on one of your cheeks, the flesh jiggling from its force and you hear a sharp inhale behind you. “Comfortable?”
Always the gentleman, he always checks to make sure you’re okay. But you’re far beyond that point, seconds away from grabbing him and pushing him into you yourself.
“Yes, now please fuck me already, I’m going insane.” He snickers at the way you push back toward him, hole searching for his length blindly as sweat accumulates on your back.
“Anything for you, babe.” Fingers collecting your dripping essence, Jimin takes the time to spread your lubricant over himself, allowing you to hear the slick noise and his heavy breaths as you wait on quivering knees. After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel him drag his hot tip through your folds, tapping the weight against you until you’re just about ready to crack. But just as you take in a breath to scold him, he pushes in to the hilt and forces a groan from you.
The intrusion is tight. He almost goes cross-eyed at how tightly you squeeze him upon entry, and he’s awed into silence at the way your velvet repeatedly clenches and relaxes as you try to adjust. At least he thinks you’re trying to adjust, until he brings his fingers down to your clit and starts rubbing, only for the clenching to get more intense.
“Is that okay?” He asks, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back.
“It’s amazing,” You nearly sob, rocking back into him. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”
Before you’re even finished your sentence he’s pulling back, leaving you completely empty except for his tip before thrusting forward. You both moan at the movement and he starts a fairly quick pace, standing erect and gripping your hips securely. Just like the first time he had you, you steal his breath away. It’s addicting, the way he glides in so easily with the thick coating of arousal you cover him in, and he wonders how the hell he lasted months without you. He thrusts deep, giving you every inch and loving the curses and whimpers you let out.
“Shit baby, just like that.” You gasp, digging your nails into the top of the sofa at the pleasure. The arch in your back deepens when he hits your spot, and you involuntarily clench around him, goosebumps crawling up your skin when the tightness pulls a deep groan from him. His cock is the perfect shape, the perfect length for you, and he touches places within you that you can never reach on your own. Every snap of his hips is precise, intended to give you the utmost pleasure because Jimin simply adores seeing you fall apart for him, but there’s something else tonight. Passion. You can feel it in the way his hands roam your body freely, tracing over your curves and caressing you with a tenderness that you haven’t felt before from anyone. His thumbs massage the dimples in your back even as he rams into you, dipping down to line your shoulder blades in sloppy kisses.
“Fuck (Y/n), I missed you so much.” Jimin rasps, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck as he changes his pace to a swivel of his hips. “Missed our long talks, missed your laugh, those cute little moans— mmh— and I especially missed fucking this tight, wet pussy.”
“Yeah?” You try to sound a little cocky, but that’s ruined by the shakiness of your voice. He still has your legs shaking even with the delicate strokes he now delivers, and you have to rest your forehead on the back of the couch to catch your breath.
“I can’t tell you how much I thought about you these past few months. I drove myself crazy wondering if I’d get to see you again.” His voice drops an octave when you squeeze at his words, your walls fluttering along with your heart.
“S-sorry,”
“Stop apologizing, at least I get to have you now.” And have you he does. Whether he knows it or not, he owns your body and heart already and there’s no going back now. Nodding, you start to rock backwards against him, fucking yourself on his cock. He stops moving to let you work, biting down on your shoulder at the feeling as you spread your legs wider to get more leverage. His moans and grunts spur you on, wordless encouragement as you render him speechless with your hips. If he wouldn’t let you use your mouth on him, the least you could do is take some of the work off his hands to pay him back. If it wasn’t for your bum ankle you’d be riding him off into the sunset right now, but you settle for working hard on pleasuring him like this.
His hands aid your movements, pulling you back onto him as you feel the light layer of sweat smear on your shoulder when he rests his forehead against it. One of his hands inches toward your midsection, pressing down slightly to feel the bulge of his tip as it slips in and out of you, pulling a desperate moan from you. The pressure around his member increases from the external force and he moans alongside you, the sweet sound breathed right next to your ear and traveling straight to your core.
“I’m- I’m close again.” You hiccup, faltering in your motions.
Without a word, Jimin pulls out of you, ignoring your whine to move you onto your back swiftly. He situates himself between your open legs, smirking at how they tremble on either side of him as he lines himself up and pushes back into you. At your gasp he steals a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth and savoring the taste of your moans. He drops down to his elbows but you pull him closer until all of his weight rests on top of you, even if it causes his thrusts to be less efficient. When he pulls away for air, he smiles down at you.
“Hi,”
“Hi.” You return, brushing some hair away from his eyes.
“I just wanted you to face me so I could watch you cum again.” Jimin explains cheekily, proud of the blush he pulls from your cheeks.
“Then make me cum.” He doesn’t need to be told twice. Swooping down for another kiss, his hand immediately slithers between your body to reach for your clit, pressing into it with his fingers as his hips pick up speed. You’re confused at first when his hand doesn’t move, your pearl throbbing beneath him, but it’s soon forgotten when he touches your g-spot again and makes you see stars.
Your orgasm builds up with every hard stroke of his, and when your legs move up to wrap around him he hits so much deeper. A knot is forming in his own belly from looking at you, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open and on him as you tug on his scalp. The sparks of pain only add to the almost overwhelming pleasure of being inside you, and Jimin has to focus hard to avoid cumming before you. He grits his teeth as he fucks you harder, reveling in the music of your squelching wetness and the slap of your skin, keeping the rhythm steady to please you. Your hands leave his hair as the pleasure mounts. They grapple at anything around you as you start to lose control, grabbing at the cushions beneath you, scratching down his back, holding onto your own legs, until they finally settle on the firm muscles of his ass, urging him on.
Then he feels it. The steady clamp of your cunt that tells him quite clearly that you’re ready.
Shifting his fingers to swipe a glob of your arousal, Jimin begins rubbing into your clit vigorously, holding his position solidly above you when your body jolts from the sensation. You feel as if he’s rubbing a fireball into your core, heating you up until you’re panting and sweating and just about ready to combust. He’s assaulting you from all sides, battering your g-spot, attacking your clit with his nimble fingers, and sucking at your stiffened nipples; the onslaught of bliss sending you head-first into a breathtaking orgasm.
Looking up at you through lidded eyes, Jimin feels like he’s flying. You look completely enveloped in bliss, pride swelling in his chest as you call out his name and pull him closer until there’s no space between you. Feeling you cum around him is his favorite feeling, he loves the erratic spasms of your inner muscles, how the rest of your body tenses around him, the uncontrollable jump of your hips as he works you through it all with slow fingers until you try to squeeze your legs shut around his body and he takes pity on your whimpering. It feels so good you could cry, and there’s nothing he loves more than the watery eyed smile you give him when you finally peek your eyes open to stare up at him.
His heart clenches as he looks down at you, racing for a reason unrelated to the vigorous movements of his hips. Seeing you like this, with stars in your eyes and soft adoration for him, has him hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You stroke his hair and continue to clench around him, whispering dirty words to push him over the edge.
“I’m g-gonna cum,” Jimin grunts, the crease between his eyebrows growing.
“That’s it, baby,” You drawl as you suck your own love marks into his skin. “Cum for me.”
With a strained groan, Jimin pulls out of you and rubs himself against your lower abdomen, shivering when you drop down a hand to stroke him until white ribbons coat your stomach. There’s a lot of cum and it makes a mess all over you, yet you enjoy every drop, savoring the quivering moans from the man above you. When he’s finished, you release him and reach for his face, bringing him down for a searing kiss.
You don’t know how long you kiss him like that, but you do know that he breaks away all too soon, pushing himself up off the couch to gaze upon his artwork. He lets out a growl of approval, to which you laugh and throw one a pillow at him.
“Pervert.”
“What? I didn’t even say anything!” He snickers on his way out of the room, returning with a wet washcloth to clean you with. His touch is so gentle that you could fall asleep right there, but you force yourself to stay awake to bask in the moment. It’s then that you realize the tv is still on, the movie you had been watching having ended long ago. You reach for the remote and turn off the screen, watching instead as Jimin busies himself with tidying the room. He reaches for you when he deems it good enough, all of your clothes folded at the other end of the couch and his cushions clean of any bodily fluids, and this time when he lifts you into his arms you allow it.
After helping you to the bathroom and making sure you didn’t fall or walk on your injured foot, he rests you on his bed gently and tosses you one of his shirts, slipping on a new pair of boxers for himself. As soon as his warmth enters the bed with you, your entire body relaxes. Cuddling after sex hadn’t always been your thing, but it became routine a few months after seeing Jimin. He couldn’t resist and you couldn’t say no and now it comes almost automatically. He lets you wrap your arms around his midsection and rest your head on his beating heart, his own arm slung around your waist. These moments, these quiet moments where the silence is comfortable and simply feeling your skin is enough, are what he missed the most. He’s never wanted this kind of intimacy with anyone else. Never craved to hug anyone and never let go until he met you. No one has ever occupied his thoughts like this, made him slightly irrational or scared him as much as you do— he’s never been scared to lose someone before he was faced with that situation with you. Jimin is certain he’s never been in love before, therefore he has no idea what it feels like, but now he’s starting to wonder if this is it. The thought is equal parts terrifying and comforting and all he can do is hold you closer.
A chuckle from you draws his attention to the silly smirk on your face, and he just knows you’re about to say something stupid.
“So, you missed this gorilla grip pussy?” Of course you would say something like that. You’re the only person he knows who would say that to someone in seriousness— just like how you came up with that foolish name for a blowjob. But it’s one of your many charms. He stifles a laugh knowing it would only encourage you, but you catch the rise of his cheeks and laugh anyway.
“Ugh, why do I even put up with you?” He rolls his eyes playfully.
“Because of this gorilla grip pussy.” You state as though it were obvious, clinging to him as he lightheartedly tries to push you off.
“God, I missed your goofy ass.” His lips find your forehead and your snuggle deeper into his chest.
“And my-“
“Please, don’t say it again.” Jimin stops you with a wrinkle of his nose, pulling the sheets higher up your bodies. “But yes, I missed that too.” Your giggles settle down after a few seconds and then the mood shifts to something a bit more serious. “(Y/n).”
“Hmm?” You hum, closing your eyes.
“Never think you aren’t good enough. Your past doesn’t define your future and just because a few people treated you poorly in the past doesn’t mean that you’re unworthy of love. You may think that what you went through makes you undesirable, but in my eyes it makes you look incredibly strong. And you’re even stronger to be able to share your experiences with me and open yourself up after all that’s happened. I want you to know that I will never fault you for the shitty things other people have done, and I will spend every day showing you just how amazing you are to me, if you’ll let me.”
You don’t open your eyes as he speaks, afraid that the tears that have been welling up will spill over if you open them. Hearing him say this means the world to you and you’re inclined to believe every word. These are the kinds of things he would say to you when you were still just fuck buddies. He always listened with empathy and took the time reassuring you that nothing you went through was your fault, yet you still doubted him when he showed interest in dating you. Looking back on it, you feel silly. How could you ever doubt such a genuine man, who has never taken advantage of you even once when you poured your heart out to him, who is so understanding and caring that you feel instantly at ease when talking to him? Jimin is everything you ever wanted, and for once your heart and brain can agree to let yourself be happy.
“Thank you, Jimin.” You sniffle, leaning into the hand that now strokes through your hair as his words replay in your mind. You don’t like getting emotional, so you try to dispel it by using humor. “If you truly mean it then get ready, I only get goofier from here.”
He giggles. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Oh it is, trust me.”
“I do.” The seriousness of his tone has you glancing up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the affection in his eyes. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your neck so you look away. “So will you let me take you out tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, the sooner the better. We could go out for breakfast.” His smile is blinding and your blush deepens. You’re not used to getting shy, but Jimin seems to bring it out of you.
“Brunch. I have a feeling we’ll be sleeping in.” Glancing at the clock, you note how late it is, well past midnight and any other reasonable bedtime. That doesn’t seem to matter, however, because you will probably spend all night laying awake from the excitement of what will come tomorrow— and the day after, and the day after that. Your months of worrying have finally come to an end and this feels like a brand new start. You have no idea what it’ll be like to date Jimin, but the promise of it all is too much to bear. The smile doesn’t leave your face for the rest of the night, not even as you fall asleep.
“Brunch it is.”
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mindibindi · 3 years
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Beyond disappointed in Ted Lasso. What were they thinking?!
The writing is a complete betrayal and insult to Rebecca’s character and Hannah’s skills as they’re being seriously underused. It’s also insulting Sam’s character.
Hoping someone pulls Rebecca’s head out of her ass tbh. Sam shouldn’t be getting caught in the crossfire of her looking for romance. I know he showed up at her doorstep but she still should’ve turned him away, and not even messaged him in the first place.
Hey, I'm with you, Anon, though we do seem to be in the minority. Sam is definitely not blameless here, he is also in the wrong. But if one of them is more in the wrong, it is Rebecca. I can't speak to whether her head has left her arse as yet because I have quit watching (at least for now). I hear she called it off with Sam in the most recent ep, though not because of any major crisis of conscience or because anyone in her inner circle expressed any reasonable reservations in response to her bad behaviour. And to be honest, I'm not sure we should need to hope and pray that Rebecca's precocious god-daughter, her slimy ex-husband, or the brutal British press will act as a moral compass on this ill-advised relationship. Both Rupert and the press have been set up to some extent as the villains of the piece. And a 14 year old should never have to school her elders on what is and isn't acceptable. Nora's needs have already been neglected by Rebecca for far too long.
If a moral position is to be taken on this, it needs to be taken by the show (because stance matters) and/or by its characters. But the show has for the most part depicted this relationship as ill-advised but ultimately hot, sweet, funny and romantic. As for the characters themselves, Sam has shown at least once that he has some moral backbone but seems to be adorably clueless when it comes to fucking his boss who keeps trying to set boundaries with him. Meanwhile, Rebecca's whole arc in s1 was about learning not to misuse her power for her own selfish ends. In season one, she misused her power within the club in order to exact revenge. In season 2, we have seen her misuse her sexual power, though I still cannot see to what end. I'm a bit at a loss as to what exactly she gets out of this 'relationship' but then I'm a grown woman so I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with a Harry Potter enthusiast barely out of his teens. I couldn't think of anything less sexy and more ick. I was certainly hoping for better character development for her this season.
As to what the writers were thinking, obviously I was not in the writer's room, but I would guess that they were thinking that any drama is good drama, people are stupid and fan devotion will trump any meaningful critique. In other words, they were thinking exactly how every other television writer thinks, despite the fact that this show posited itself as 'not like other TV shows'. This, to me, is where the blame really lies. Not with the characters or with the actors who are doing their best to sell this ludicrous turn of events. It must be noted, however, that both actors were completely blindsided by this relationship that had supposedly been so cleverly foreshadowed. Newsflash: if the people actually living these stories did not see this coming then you haven't foreshadowed shit. Sure, there were a handful of people that paired Rebecca with Sam but this does not constitute proof either. Fans have free-range to imagine and re-imagine characters. In some cases this may extend to imagining relationships between characters who have barely, if ever, interacted. There may be little to no evidence that these characters have even clocked each other's existence and some fans will still ship it. The existence of a handful of shippers does not legitimise such a problematic and divisive plotline making it onscreen.
But wait!, you might argue, this may not be a case of a popular show seeing just how far they can stretch fan devotion. This may not be a case of fan service to a handful of shippers. After all, the creators mapped out the entire three-season arc of Ted Lasso before they even pitched it to Apple. This was their brilliant plan all along! To which I would say: then maybe they should've rethought their second act based on people's strong reactions to their first. Ted Lasso was touted as the show we all needed in 2020. The writers and creators have all marveled at the chord it struck considering it was conceived prior to the pandemic and all the chaos it wrought. And while there is something to be said for having/sticking to a creative vision, there is also something to be said for being flexible and responsive to your audience and the cultural zeitgeist with which you're engaged. Season 1 of Ted Lasso told its story so gently, without creating distrust, division or unnecessary anxiety. It did not treat its audience like a gaggle of stupid lemmings to be led over a succession of narrative cliffs. THIS is what I mean when I say the show has broken with its brand. And look, this whole dark forest thing would be okay if the narrative arc was as well-crafted as s1. Season 1 gave us meaning, cohesion, comfort, sense in a senseless time. It was an almost perfectly crafted season of television. And I kept the faith for 6 episodes, despite the first half of s2 being pretty damn wobbly. But the follow-up to this stellar debut has been less than extraordinary so yeah, perhaps they should've thought a little harder about what made s1 so special before throwing it all out the window.
But wait!, I hear the faithful say, you don't know how things will pan out yet! Wait until the season is over and everything will make sense! But -- wearily and once again, I say -- we should not need to wait until the end of the season to understand what the hell is happening. By this point (over halfway through the season and show) we should have a v clear idea of the show's themes and the characters' arcs. And tbf, from what I can tell there are some fab things happening in other aspects of the show that I wish I could watch and enjoy. But my biggest fear at this point is that they are going to use Sam to solve Rebecca's childlessness. That, like Rupert (because the parallel cannot be avoided), she will become pregnant with a young fling and the show's attitude to this relationship will ultimately be: oh well, it was a bad idea and didn't work out for them but it was all for the best in the end cos who can be mad about a cute lil baaaayyybbbeeee??!! If they do go down this path then I will definitely be abstaining from the rest of the show. I will simply recall my repeated viewings of s1 with fondness tinged with regret at just how badly they fucked up a good thing.
Ultimately, Anon, I think this may be a case of there simply not being a diverse enough perspective in the writer's room. I am not saying that every single woman or every single person of colour will necessarily object to this relationship. I am simply saying that women and people of colour will be more sensitive to the issues of gender and race that are relevant here but that have not been fully or sensitively acknowledged in the writing of this plotline. Neither am I saying that Rebecca is the first woman to sleep with a man much (much, much, MUCH) younger than herself or indulge in an ill-advised relationship. But the comparison with Rupert both works here and doesn't because Rebecca is not being written like a white woman, she is being written like a white man. Realistically, only a white man can engage in this kind of hugely imbalanced relationship seemingly without any major moral qualms or societal ramifications. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this kind of relationship is reserved for all the Bills and Joes and Brendans and Jasons out there -- not for the Rebeccas and definitely not for the Sams. We are way beyond the point in feminism where we believe that liberation is simply the right for a white woman to behave as badly as a white man. The truth is that whatever wealth, power and privilege Rebecca has, the rules are different for men and women. She will not be treated the same as Rupert if and when this affair is uncovered. She will be treated far more savagely than Rupert ever was and Sam will be treated far more savagely than Bex was. This is not an argument for the equal treatment of these two relationships. It is an argument against how the relationship between Rebecca and Sam has been envisaged, i.e. through the wrong perspective. In writing from a 'neutral' white male pov, the show has invisiblised all the many issues activated by this storyline and revealed a blindspot that was always there.
As much as I loved and still love season 1 of this show, it has definite blindspots when it comes to representations of race and gender. There are at least two moments in s1 that stand out for me as being so obviously written by a man. Not necessarily because of what they do but because of what they don't do: what is missed, absent, unacknowledged. I was willing to overlook such minor failings in a debut season for many reasons. But s2 seems to have exacerbated these minor flaws rather than correcting them. And here I can't help thinking of Tina Fey speaking of the diversification of the writer's room at SNL during her tenure as co-headwriter. This notoriously male-dominated environment only began to shift and produce better work when a greater diversity of minds, voices and persepectives was allowed in the room. In this richer environment, she notes, different jokes played differently. Different sketches made it to air. Different perspectives were represented and different performers were celebrated. I can't help wondering if this plotline would have made it to air if there had been a female writer, a writer of colour or both further up the chain of command to challenge the ideas of the straight white dudes in charge.
One of the reasons I didn't think Ted Lasso was for me was that it centred a straight, white, cis-het, able-bodied man who rose to a position he didn't earn. That is just not a pov I would normally choose for myself, especially now that there is such a rich array of alternative perspectives through which to view the world. But I think the show won a lot of females fans with its first season largely due to its portrayal of Rebecca. She is the first person we meet. She is arguably the protagonist of s1. And while she would have been figured as a villain in previous pieces, the show never took that stance with her (because again, stance matters). Other elements like the depiction of female friendships, all centred around Rebecca, made this show female-friendly viewing. But imo, the major reason this show won over female fans (this one, at least) is because, in this post-MeToo, post-TimesUp era, it stood up and said: domestic violence is not okay, we stand with women and all victims of abuse, we will defend you, we know words can hurt, we know it can happen to anyone, we know all about toxic masculinity, we do not take this lightly and we will support you in your healing. Needless to say, this is how women hope men will act when they speak of their most difficult experiences but it is not how they always do.
The shift away from Rebecca this season has however meant that the white male experience is more centred than it was in s1. Rebecca's journey to recovery, health and happiness has been trivialised and sidelined, reduced to a highly questionable sexcapade. Meanwhile, we get overwrought manpain at every turn. We get Beard wandering around London (no, I haven't seen it and no, I don't need to. We've all been raised on white dudes thinking they're genuises when they have a figurative wank all over our screens). We get NO queer represention at all. And the only other female characters on screen are in care/service roles to men. The father/son, mentoring and toxic masculinity themes are all still there but they're no longer balanced out by ANY other competing perspective. One of the reasons I was okay with Ted failing upwards in s1 was that he used his power and privilege to lift up others. He was the one in service. He used his enormous privilege for good, as anyone with such privilege must. (Admittedly, it could be argued that this is just another version of a white savior narrative).
My point here is that I'm not sure that peeking behind the mask at the sad clown is as revolutionary as some might believe. We love it because it's familiar. But this is a narrative with a long and problematic history. Do I believe in tearing down toxic masculinity in all its forms? You bet. Do I believe that patriarchy traumatises men as well as women and every other minority in existence? I mean...nowhere near as much, but absolutely. Do I believe in men expressing their feelings and going to therapy? Wholeheartedly. But I am also aware that 100 or so years ago, we were in a very similar place with our narratives. Everyone is looking for a recapitulation of modernism and frankly, this might be an indicator of just that. Whenever women and people of colour have demanded rights and recognition, there has always been a resurgence of tales about just how frickin' hard it is to be a white man. Minority genders and non-white people have never in western history been as visible or vocal as they are now. So forgive me (or don't, I don't care) if I critique a show not only for centering fathers, sons, boys and men but for blindly and boldly writing one of its only female characters and one of its only black characters as if their gender and race just do not exist. There are many other power differentials at play in this relationship, including age, experience, wealth and position, but race and gender are the two that patriarchy is most invested in invisiblising. So I don't care how brilliant they think they are, I will not trust the writing of a bunch of white dudes trying to tell me that race and gender are irrelevant.
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msgrumpygills · 2 years
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"a bit too crude and sexual at cons"
omg, thank you, finally someone who is seeing this as well. I am not a misha anti, I just usually ignore him, but misha has made so many creepy sexual remarks (often even involving his own kids), he just gives me the weirdest vibes. not saying he is a pedo or a predator or anything, but I really don't like some of the stuff he does or that comes out of his mouth.
like when he made his 1 or 2 year old baby daughter sing a song about fucking and filmed it and posted it on the internet. so inappropriate imo. or when he said his kids have seen jensen have sex many times (it was a joke during a question about what he lets his kids see on tv, but still, what a weird thing to say). or when he said he was sad that his daughter didn't need him to wipe her butt anymore because he tought they "had something special going on". again a joke I guess, but wth???
in a similar vein, I absolutely hate how misha has been implying (or outright saying) that jensen is sexually submissive to him for years. at this point, basically all the cockles shippers/tinhats I see are convinced that misha and jensen are in a bdsm relationship, with misha being jensen's dom. and that is all due to the crap misha does and says on his social media or during cons (usually where only his fans will see or hear). it's so creepy and verges on sexual harassment imo.
See when I posted about how I think he gets kinda gross at cons, I had tons of Misha fans throwing the “But it’s the parents’ fault for having a kid there!” argument at me. Like yes, I understand that parents shouldn’t bring their kids to a place where grown men are going to be swearing and stuff. But isn’t it also Misha’s responsibility to not be gross in front of children? I’m around half his age and I won’t talk about certain things in front of kids because it makes me feel uncomfortable and it’s gross. Why doesn’t Misha have that filter?
I know everyone has their own version of “humor” but the way he does it is just past the line of creepy and gross. The way he acts, he makes himself look like some sex-crazed pervert and it’s not cute. 
I never liked the way he sexualized Jensen all the time and egged on the shippers. Imagine if Jensen was a female and Misha acted like that, he’d get his ass handed to him. But since Jensen is a male, it’s okay? Misha gets so creepy and crude at cons and you can’t change my mind about that. 
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So Sooga gets along with Revali, Sidon, Riju- what about Urbosa and Daruk? I don't think I recall the dynamic between him and the others. And I think Kohga is missing a few too- i guess im asking for headcanons here.
Oh good point. All of these are susceptible to change, so nothing is particularly set in stone.
Sooga;
Enjoys hanging out with Revali. He admires not just his talent, but the fact that he hides his insecurities very well. Match that with his quick wit and their mutual love for making fun of Link honestly makes them buddies. They like to train, have tea, and have a nice crab omlette (Sooga is on and off in terms of how comfortable he is, eating around Revali). Revali, along with every other rito (namely women) have a crush on him. Sooga just, fucking attracts birds for some reason.
Sidon is his close second friend. Big as he is, a lover of fish, Sidon is annoying in a sort of endearing way. He likes fishing, hiking, swimming, collecting shells with him. When they aren't having fun outside or fucking, you'll see them indoors, whittling while Sidon goes on and on about some story. Sooga likes to listen, Sidon loves to talk. They just work.
Riju. Riju is sort of like his niece. He treats her respectfully, but having grown up with six sisters, Sooga has the instinct to care for her. He takes her out for ice cream, he does her nails/hair, listens to her rant, and even helps pet sit Patricia from time to time (and Patricia LOVES him, she blows him kisses all the time). He's also kinda protective. A boy her age tried talking to her, he went missing the next day. Odd I know.
Urbosa. Urbosa acts like HIS older sister, and while women make him uncomfortable, he trusts her more than most. She's always there to give him words of encouragement, always there to help him against some rather hungry ladies- she just has his back. Sometimes they meet up for a nice dessert and talk about what they like in men (Urbosa loves ladies too, but women are lost on Sooga).
Mipha. Sooga and Mipha get along. They aren't at each other’s throats, but Sooga isn't exactly nuts about her. She finds him slightly imposing, he doesn't like being near women-without Kohga, they're awkward with one another.
Teba. Sooga and Teba actually get along pretty well. They're both rather strong and silent types. That is, until Sooga asks about the family life. They end up sitting next to each other, tending to their weapons, while Teba tells him what it's like to be a dad. They're quiet overall.
Daruk. Daruk and Sooga...they co exist. Sooga doesn't hate him, but he isn't a fan. Jealousy from Kohga aside, Sooga doesn't like that he's loud, brazen, VERY touchy, and is constantly trying to get him to eat. Suffice to say, Sooga would prefer anyone else's company (he was once in a room with JUST him and Mipha. It sucked).
Sooga and Yunobo. For some reason, he's chosen to adopt him too, and is constantly acting as his confident. He's constantly making sure he's eaten and slept, and is trying to help him come out of his shell. The 'he asked for no pickles' meme, but in an uncle way. Sooga likes to take him out to smash boulders during the day, and hunt for fireflies at night. Yunobo once fell asleep on him, Sooga didn't have the heart to move him. He had to see a doctor for his back the next day, but worth it.
Link and Sooga have a VERY competitive relationship. They've established early on that they're rivals, and as such, wanna beat each other's shit on a daily basis. They lowkey need to stop hitting each other and just bone, everyone sees it.
The Great faeries. Not champions, but imma include it anyway-they coddle the crap out of him because he's honestly adorable to them. He really. Really wishes they'd stop kissing him, just ONCE. They're all better than Malanya though, for some reason he fucking HATES Sooga.
Zelda. Sooga...does not like Zelda. I'll leave it at that. Let's just say you shouldn't leave them alone together.
Impa/Purah/Robbie. Its fucking on site with Impa, Purah is actually tolerable, and Robbie is just fucking annoying.
Kohga!!;
Kohga of course, LOVES his lil red fishy, Mipha. You kidding me? She's a cherry! An absolutely precious lil ruby! Kohga loves her SO much, she can pretty much just waltz into the clan whenever she pleases, and gets whatever she wants by asking for it. They're ABSOLUTELY bff's. Shopping, cooking, talking about boys and taking selfies, they're practically joined at the hip. I'm telling you, Kohga would end game any bitch if Mipha asked.
Daruk. Kohga LOVES the guy! Not just because he's easy on the eyes, but he's big, loud, rowdy, pair that up with his love for food, and these two can keep each other company FOREVER. Just, be warned if booze is allowed, and may god help your pantry. When they AREN'T raining hell, they spend time at the hot springs, and let me tell you, you've never seen two dudes happier, they're like pigs in shit.
Sidon. Kohga and Sidon get along great! Nice to look at, Sidon is also just a sweetie who just. Does whatever Kohga tells him to. Like Sooga, but dumb as hell. One of the few people that BOTH of them can hang around with. Seriously though, Sidon is a big dumb sweetie, Kohga LOVES it.
Urbosa. Her and Kohga get along, in a sorta 'let's meet for brunch on Sundays' kinda way. It's a casual friendship, and honestly? It's comfortable for them. He's still lowkey scared of her though.
Kohga is Riju's OTHER uncle. He's the more 'tell me about the boys you like' kinda uncle. Total enabler, he lets Riju do all the kid stuff she never really got the chance to do. You wanna play with chalk? Absolutely. You wanna get your shoes dirty? Course! You wanna eat all the candy and go pants a royal guard? He's IN.
Revali is an ass. Full of himself, snarky, and so in the closet, they bicker ALL the fucking time. They don't HATE each other, they just fucking can't get along. They fought over BREAD once.
Teba doesn't love Kohga. He's not quiet, he squirms a lot, and even if he's asleep, he tosses and turns a LOT. Teba just puts up with him, while Kohga thinks he's boring, but nice to look at.
Yunobo is more loved by Sooga than Kohga, but he thinks the kid is a peach. He teaches him how to talk to boys he likes. Can't help with girls though. Still sweet to the poor kid though, always brings him something to eat, because he worries.
Kohga LOVES Link! They both love food (especially fried bananas), Kohga loves Link's antics, Link loves Kohga’s funny dance moves- they just click. You'll often see them napping together after a buffet of food.
The great faeries! He LOVES them!! They're big, they're beautiful, they proud and loud- they are just his gal pals. He knows each ones specific tastes, and its so easy for him to charm the pants off of them during tea time. Don't tell anyone, but Malanya is his favorite, they love talking about horses.
Impa/Purah/Robbie. Kohga doesn't hate Impa, but the girl is SUCH a buzzkill. Instead of going and getting her a girl, she's here, scolding him for some random rule. Smh. He LOVES Purah though. They're TOTAL shutterbugs together, and they both agree that Impa needs to get a girlfriend. Robbie is also a TOTAL babe. Like if dude likes to experiment, Kohga can run some tests on that DI-
Zelda. Kohga...hates that he likes her. She's just a sweet gal, and with a smile like that? He can't hate her. He visits here and there for political reasons, but they do have lunch and catch up. Him and Sooga do sometimes help pick outfits/looks as well. And...well. The royal stables are a HUGE plus (seriously, Kohga SWOONS for her white horse. He jokes that he's more handsome than Sooga. He's half kidding, that fucker is a BEAUTIFUL horse).
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spaceskam · 3 years
Text
a classic case of infatuation
Summary: TK is a very annoying coworker.
Tags: enemies to lovers LiteTM, office job au, Carlos POV
for @lire-casander​ !!! happy birthday! I’m so late but i finally finished it! I hope you like it!
ao3
“Whoops.”
Carlos breathed in a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he looked up. TK was walking away, not even bothering looking back at him despite the fact that he’d knocked his letter opener off his desk and onto the floor. It was infuriating and he wanted to do something about it, but that wasn’t feasible all things considered.
Carlos had been working in this office building with this management, slowly working his way from receptionist to the accounts receivable role of the building and he had serious job security. He considered himself rather likeable and a good fit. He enjoyed his job, even, managing to balance out his work-life and his free time in a way that worked for him best. It was great.
Or, it had been until three months ago when April, another accountant who handled the accounts payable aspect of things, had quit to stay home with her kids and they’d hired a nuisance in her place.
His name was TK Strand and he was one of the most cocky people Carlos had ever met. Whereas Carlos tried to get along with everyone and went out of his way to be exceptionally nice even when he was having a bad day and had stayed late on more than one occasion to help other people in his department out because he knew they had children to go home to, TK was full of himself and seemingly bored with his job if the way he found any excuse to walk  around all day said anything. Carlos couldn't even complain about him to anyone because everyone else in the office found him endlessly charming and didn’t understand why Carlos was so bothered by him.
But he was and TK seemed to get off on getting a rise out of him.
On more than one occasion, TK had hidden his car keys or mistakenly mixed their mail or spilled a bit of water on his shoes. Every time he passed his desk, TK would knock something off no matter how much Carlos tried to make it where there was nothing to knock off. Hell, he even once managed to replace some of his deposit stacks and had Carlos scrambling when he almost presented his boss with the Communist Manifesto in comic sans instead.
“Maybe if you didn’t feed into it he would stop,” Michelle had suggested once, stirring her coffee with that annoyingly knowing smile, “Or maybe he’s just acting like a little boy vying for your attention.”
“Then someone should’ve taught him that doesn’t actually work. We’re grown ass men and we’re at work, he needs to grow up,” Carlos insisted, eyes narrowed. He had such a distinct memory of TK leaning against the receptionist desk, probably bothering her with his annoying smile. The memory was probably distinct because he did it damn near every day.
Truly, it was a problem. Shouldn’t he be working instead?
“Then try to ignore him, I definitely feel like that will help.”
It did not help.
“TK!” Carlos snapped, getting up from his desk with a sudden desire to tear him a new one. TK paused, his fingers dancing on the top of a divider for two empty cubicles as he turned to face him. He was smirking and his head was tilted to the side like he just knew he was going to have fun with this.
As if he wasn’t driving Carlos insane.
“Yes, Sir?” TK responded, still grinning. 
“Pick it up.”
“Pick what up?” 
“You know what.”
TK huffed a laugh and took a languid step forward, his head still tilted as if just challenging Carlos to say something about it. Which was stupid and infuriating because clearly no matter what he said, TK wasn’t going to act like a coworker. He was just going to be straight up annoying forever.
“Pick it up,” Carlos repeated. TK rolled his eyes.
“Fine, Dad,” he said, strolling past him just close enough so they bumped shoulders. Carlos watched him pick up the letter opener and wave it around, slamming it on his desk once he was done with his show. “Happy?”
Carlos didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until TK walked away.
“Talk to him,” Michelle suggested again that night as they sat at the bar. Carlos was uncharacteristically pissed and craving a drink, his eyes trained on the neck of his beer as if that would do anything. His stomach was tense with irritation.
“I think I’m going to quit.”
“What? Why would you do that? You love your job,” she said and maybe that was an overstatement, but he definitely worked hard and didn’t hate it. Didn’t hate it until someone was there to distract him and frustrate him to no end.
“Yeah, but I’m going to end up hating it at some point if he doesn’t stop,” Carlos told her. She frowned a little, purposefully exaggerated.
“Then go to your boss if it’s that bad.”
“It… It isn’t that bad. I don’t want to get him fired, he’s just driving me crazy,” Carlos insisted. They fell silent for a moment as Carlos glared at his beer and she stared at his face. He knew that her silence was her reading him and he was quietly dreading whatever she came up with.
“Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so annoyed is because maybe you like him?” Michelle suggested. Carlos scoffed.
“I don’t like him. What’s there to like? He’s annoying and won’t leave me alone and‒”
“And gives you a lot of attention and goes out of his way to make sure you think about him and is undeniably good looking?” Michelle suggested. Carlos glared harder and she let out a laugh. “I’m not saying he’s going about it the right way, I’m just saying maybe you’re just angry that you like him despite the fact that he’s ticking you off.”
“No. No, I’m going to talk to Tommy in the morning about maybe just getting me away from him,” Carlos decided.
Michelle didn’t try to talk him out of it.
He spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about what the hell he was going to do about this situation. He was going to march up to Tommy and explain the situation: TK was a nuisance and he needed to be moved away from him. Or‒no, that sounded like he was in grade school. He was going to explain that maybe he needed to put in his two weeks because of irreconcilable issues. He didn’t want to do that though and he didn’t want to threaten it either. He just wished there was an easier way to go about it.
The next day, after psyching himself up, he did approximately no tattling.
When TK walked by his desk again, Carlos didn’t react at all. Even when he circled back around to knock more shit off at least three times, Carlos didn’t respond and didn’t move to pick anything up. He just pretended it wasn’t there.
“Aw, are you mad at me?” TK said, a teasing tone in his voice as he sat across from him in the breakroom during lunch. Carlos continued to keep his eyes down and his breath even. He was just going to ignore him until he got a hint. “Oh, come on, Carlos. Play nice.”
Carlos rightfully ignored him.
He felt like he’d earned a medal of some sort by the time the day was over and he hadn’t reacted to TK at all. After lunch, TK had backed off for the most part and he’d finally had a soothing few hours at work before his shift finally ended.
And then he was locked in an elevator for six whole floors alone with TK.
“Look, dude, I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry,” TK said around the third floor. Carlos, after his day of strength, huffed a laugh.
“You don’t know what you did?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. TK blinked, his lips parting for a moment like he was genuinely confused and Carlos really understood what Michelle meant by him being undeniably good looking.
“Wait, what? What did I do?” TK asked, stepping closer again. Carlos scoffed.
The elevator doors were about to open, but he’d clearly lost his mind because Carlos reached out and pushed the button to make it stop in the middle of its journey before 
“You won’t leave me alone. You bother me constantly, I never get a moment to not be annoyed by you. You literally make me dread going to work. I’ve never had a coworker I’ve considered quitting over until I met you,” Carlos vented. TK’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked actually a bit upset.
“Wait, don’t quit. I was just messing with you. I thought we were having fun,” TK said. Carlos’ eyes widened.
“Fun? You think being poked and prodded and relentlessly annoyed by some guy you don’t even know is fun?” Carlos asked. TK blinked once, twice, before taking a step back and putting a considerable amount of distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I thought… Well, I guess I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that we were friends. That you’re cute and make that stupid serious face when you’re working where your eyebrows get all furrowed and I start thinking that you’re going to give yourself a headache. I don’t know. Sorry that I bothered you, I’ll stop,” TK said. Carlos blinked, staring at him incredulously.
“Are you five?” Carlos asked through a breath, almost annoyed that Michelle was right, “Annoying someone isn’t how you flirt with them.”
TK licked his lips and looked around, eyes stopping on the button to put the elevator back in motion. Then he looked back to Carlos.
“Would it be totally out of line for me to ask you to let me try again?” TK asked, that annoying little smile returning despite everything. Carlos let out an exasperated breath.
“For real?”
“I mean,” TK said, laughing softly, “Yeah. I’ll fuck off if you say no, but, like, if you’d be okay with it, can I woo you in a different way?”
“I don’t exactly have faith that you can woo anyone if your go to tactic was being an annoyance,” Carlos said. TK grinned.
“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it?”
Carlos stared at him and TK stared back for what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time. He kept hearing Michelle’s voice in his head that maybe it was pissing him off so much because he was interested. Wouldn’t hurt to try seemed to be her method.
Carlos breathed out and started the elevator again, staring forward and immediately stepping out when the doors opened.
“Good luck. I’m not easy to win over,” he said simply. TK laughed behind him.
“Come on, Carlos! Have faith!”
Carlos made his way to his car and took a deep breath, sitting in the silence.
For the first time in weeks, he found himself not dreading work the next day.
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nightswithkookmin · 3 years
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Hi! Goldy, do you know why are jikookers making such a big deal out of jk saying “I’m hyung ‘s copy cat”. I’m I missing something here , why is everyone acting like they just confessed their love , if anything vmin were more sus 😂
Lol shippers...
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We are like a bunch of boohbahs on crack every day. We get excited over everything and anything- which I think is the point of shipping though. Lol.
Not sure what you are missing as I haven't seen the show in its entirety yet...
But off the top of my head, I'd say it's probably because of the blushing and the whole Kook's ear turning red bit when JM was addressing him about copying him.
He did the same thing in the Be.TS Vlive when Jimin put him on the spot about posting on his birthday. Jimin makes him shy
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It's been several years and Jimin still has an effect on him. I think it's cute.
Also, the bit about them confessing...
You actually not wrong. Lol.
JM used to say JK copies him because JK liked him and so JK would deny that all the time. To accept that he was imitating JM would mean he was admitting he liked Jimin- that he thought Jimin was cool, had impeccable style yadda yadda.
Jimin might as well had asked JK to confess he liked him.
They both had a habit of trying to get the other to confess their feelings for them in the past.
JM: I am Army.
JK: Do you like me that much?
JM: I had blue eyes first.
JK: No. Mine is bluer
JM: Stop imitating me.
Do you like me that much?
Jk: No
It was their way of flirting. So I guess in effect, in admiting he imitates JM, Jimin sort of got JK to officially admit he likes him🤷🏽‍♀️
'Do you like me?'
'Do you?'
'Do you?'
And he acted so innocent about it too.
This man! Lol
That innocent pout afterwards my God. Lmho.
There's just a lot of history between those two. A lot, and it's nice to see them remind eachother of that.
And I think it's the history and memories, the nolstagia he evoked in JK with that comment that had JK blushing hard especially if he read double meaning in that request.
From, his reaction I'd say he did.
All these double entendres chilee.
Its intriguing JK had such a strong reaction to something seemingly less intense or even cringe. That comment was supposed to be a safe bet. The safest conversation JM could have with Kook in front of new audience to not make things awkward in the room and yet...
There's no hope for JK. Dude is gone. Bid him farewell to gay boulevard🤧
Jimin was like why are you blushing it's nothing heavy or something like that and that reminded me again of that whole, 'did I scold you" bit from New Jersey.
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Jimin had a strong reaction to what JK deemed a trivial issue- Which I gotta smirk at. Smirk.
It's interesting that of all the things he could ask Jk, this is what he chose to ask him. I think he genuinely believed it was a safer conversation to have- Y'all think VMin was wilding, wait till you meet the Jikooknims.
Imagine if JK had said what V said to JM or if JM had said that to JM. Imagine that...
I mean I get it, if they are going to be regulars on traditional SK media now, they have to be able to interact 'normally' within the group without the members or eachother panicking and acting like Jikook be spelling the nuclear codes with their butts.
We've discussed the gradual shift in BigHit's marketing model but it seems with all the Asian hate crimes, racism, stigmatization of Asians and Asian Americans in the wake of the pandemic, it's become imperative that they redirect their focus and attention to SK to solidify their presence and hold in their home market.
I'm afraid we might be seeing a shift towards the company pandering to their roots and adhering to traditional media practices with mostly one foot in the international market, and one foot in their home market.
And if that's the case, Jikook would have to be able to tether the line of their closet without making things awkward for eachother and the members lest they risk exposing themselves to the gay hateration and criticism rampant in Korea.
Bang PD have made it perfectly clear, he is not about the risk taking life. That he prefers as a company to play things safe- I wonder if he's stance on that has changed in recent times.
But I don't think when it comes to it, he'd risk it for them. He's not gonna shove their alternative lifestyle in conservative spaces like that. Chilee.
Anywho, Jimin likes to rile JK up and watch him squirm sometimes but naa I don't think that was the agenda this time around...
Then there was this bit also
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Which I think my guy spilled right there😏
I've been saying for the longest time BigHit staff take stock in the Jikook business. There you have it.
They style Jikook. They style BTS. So all the times they've appeared in couple outfits, matching shoes, complimentary hairstyles, all the time they deliberately cut from JK to Jimin or Jimin to JK, all the times they've paired Jikook up, isolated them from the group so Jikook can give them a moment-
When I say BigHit is intentional in the way they brand Jikook within the group and in the way they push those two not as friends but as a 'couple'
And because of this people scream Jikook is fan service blah blah nonsense.
But the question have always been, why does these two grown ass men go along with it. Do they not know what it means when of all seven they are the two that are constantly marketed as 'lovers?" They are not twins, neither are they twelve and so why the need to match their fits?
And how come none of them object to this?
Why don't they ask questions???
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Bet. Bet there's a reason for that.
As for Vmin all I have to say is...
Tae Kook who? Tae Kook WHERE?!
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Lmho. Vmin, TaeJin, (Tae kook) VHope, Taegi
In that particular order for Tae's ships. The last three are fluid with Tae Kook alternating anywhere from 3rd to the last position lol.
I saw their shippers bust out their go to, 'Tae was being sarcastic" he hates Jimin rhetoric - like
GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
Tae talks some strong Vmin agenda.
We been knew. We been said it
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He flirts Jimin hard to gay proportions too.
'In love with my Soulmate- a memoir written by Kim Taehyung. Coming soon to a bookshop near you. Lmho.
If Jimin catches feelings for Tae one day it's game over for us all🤣🤣🤣🤣
'We need to stop. This game is dangerous.'
Then he proceeds to gulp on top of it 🤣🤣
Reminds me of when JK was asked if Jimin wasn't his style and JK was fumbling and Jimin said, cut the cameras. Deadass. Lol
'Jk don't answer that' 🤭
Why shouldn't he answer that?
Jimin is a funny guy. A funny gay guy🤭
And did y'all see how hard Yoongi screamed when Tae said that?
Lolololololololololololololololololololololololol
Tae doesn't need to convince me he has feelings for Jimin. I'm convinced all by myself 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
And is it me or did Tae look like he didn't believe Jimin when JM said he liked him too??🤔
I can't wait to watch the whole thing.
I love their relationship. I hate when people invalidate it. VMin does not invalidate Jikook nor does Jikook invalidate VMin or even Tae Kook. They all are, unique and they are beautiful me thinks.
They ought not be compared in this way but celebrated.
It's not a competition.
Talk of celebrating ships, did you see Tae and Kook too??? 🤭🤭🤭🤭
I love seeing them in a good place in their dynamic like this.
It's the look he shot JK when the envelope ended up infront of him for me😂
Tae is hilarious I swear! Lmho.
I kinda lowkey wished it was for him I won't lie.
It's the same energy as when JK grabbed his neck and said he wanted to ride in the car with Tae. (If those subs were correct. Can't trust any unofficial subs on any Tuktuk moment💀)
Tae was like 👀 waeyo? Lmho.
I'm off to ship Tae Kook and VMin.
Keep your eyes on the gays for me.
Bye🤣
💜💜💜💜
Signed,
GOLDY
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bakunobakuyes · 3 years
Text
I’m not going anywhere || Bakugou Katsuki
this is long, srry.
WARNINGS: smut, softdom bakugo, cursing, alcohol, verbal abuse
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It’s not an empty floor you’d step into. Well, it's not supposed to be empty - third year students occupying the rdorms were downstairs, mingling, enjoying a small party. It's almost forgotten when you hear the thud against the thin wall,  coming for a room on the far left corner. The small hiss and growl of a “yes” and a “fuck” is something that seems to be filling the room. 
The smell of vanilla lingers in his room, engraving itself on his shirt. It's her fault. That goddamn shampoo and perfume she wears. That goddamn smell is too familiar to the aspiring hero. Even the smell of the vodka they had consumed seemed to be overpowered by the heavenly scent. 
The vanilla smell is clean-cutting compared to the smell of burnt caramel that stung her nostrils when she was close enough to him. It's not the sting that makes her stomach crunch in disgust. that was what made it weird. Self-control just did wonders for this girl. 
Self-control wasn't important now. That was evident as she dragged her fingernails down his back, drawing blood from the red marks that followed. It's rough; he likes it. You know how she can tell? There was no sickening sneer or taunting smirk when he let out a small gasp, teeth coming to clamp onto the skin on her shoulder. It takes almost everything in her not to give in when he shivers. 
They weren't supposed to be like this. How did they even end up like this? She's not supposed to want this. But she wants this. She wants the way his fingernails dig into the soft skin of her thighs, holding her up. She wants the groans he gives; the wet, sloppy kisses he gives on her neck, collarbone and any other place he thinks of.
There's a voice in the back of her head, whispering, "Wicked little girls like you grow up to be witchy women." every time she touches him. Like an old ghost, whispering in her ear. That same voice whispers that she is un-submitted and lustful as Jezebel, the Bible's famous wḣore. A male voice she knows all too well. She's been rebelling from that voice she had begun to walk. That voice tells her she was marked by sin; no matter how hard she scrubs every morning she will never be clean of it. 
She wants the feeling of her back hitting the wall behind her with every thrust - feeling him fill inside her. The thought itself was painfully terrific and made her want nothing more than just /this/. She wants to feel his lips against her skin; she wants the noises he makes with each thrust he gives her - feeling him pull out almost slowly and tortuously before slamming back into her. She wants the feeling of his ash blonde hair when she would fist it.
Their clothes are still on; both much too eager to remove articles. It's the only thing keeping them from really bruising each other with kisses, gripping, biting - anything you could think of when you have sex. The black skirt was shoved to wrap around her hips, underwear hanging around her ankle. The back of his shirt have a few traces of blood. No thanks to the girl between him and the damned wall of his bedroom. 
It's her voice drawling out, "Harder, fuck you, harder." as he pulls out tortuously slow before slamming back into her, going back to his fast, angry pace.  He shouldn't be too surprised. He still remembers the bruises on her neck made by teeth that he had seen one day at school. Teeth that aren’t his. Just the thought triggers an almost barbaric response, craving to make her his own.
It's her voice that told him as soon as they were done with this round, she was going to ride him so hard. It's her voice that is saying his name, causing flips from his stomach as that single word spilt through her lips.  
Oh God, shit, fuck - it was being slurred out. It just wasn't the girl saying it; it was the blonde dragging out the words. She's not the girl who makes guys say that. She's the girl who goes to guys so she can slur out those words. These feelings were indescribable, and she wishes there was a word to describe what she was feeling - describe what she hoped he was feeling. There wasn't.
There wasn't a word that could describe /them/. Both terrible with words; you could only imagine how easily that stopped them from expressing their feelings to each other. It's the only thing that stood in the way. They both know that. 
Soon enough they were on the bed, a second round in the process. 
She's the girl who watched. She watched everything go by without saying a damn thing. She's the girl whose father demanded that she would leave his home and move into the dorms, finding the long letters he had stuffed in her bag before she had left only saying, "God will eventually forgive her for her sins." She's the girl who kept her vulnerability secret. She's the girl who didn’t need anyone. She's the girl who enrolled in the hero course purely out of spite.
Only asking for one thing and one thing only - to never fall in love and ever endure a broken heart. It was a ridiculous want and maybe too cliche. But wanting this boy was ridiculous. He's not meant for her. He's too good - too powerful - for a girl like her. He simply wanted what all men wanted. No matter how many times he would tell her he wasn’t trying to be a friend to her she would never believe him. Not as long as he said it with that goddamn smug expression on his face. 
It was a fucking joke. Them fucking was a joke. They weren't meant to want each other. 
But they want. 
It's a feeling that seems to possess every inch of their bodies and minds; keeping them overwhelmed when near each other. You'd have to be insane to think it's mainly sexual. It's not mainly sexual when she wants to simply spend time with him. It's not mainly sexual when he breaks all the rules he  sets for herself for her. This isn't a mainly sexual relationship, but neither of them will say it. Regardless if this is the first time he's between her thighs, making her slur his name. 
That goddamn voice. It haunts his thoughts; leaving him to hear it everywhere. Regardless if she is present or not. He wonders why it's quiet when everything she said was laced with sarcasm, and unseen sadness seeping into every word. Goddamn it. She doesn't trust him enough to even admit that there's something between them. He doesn't have the ability to open his mouth to say something that wasn’t laced with faux hostility that hid his aching vulnerability.
He should be fucking someone else, but he still chooses her out of all people. he shouldn't even be interested in her, but he is. Why? She wouldn't ever know. She doesn't understand him. He shouldn't be fucking her, goddamn it! She shouldn't be the girl he crawls on top of, creating a fast-paced rhythm as he hoists her legs around his waist. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall, stroking his ego. 
She sees it, and it makes her wonder if he had genuine feelings for her. She'd be a silly, little girl if she thought he didn't. You bet your ass she's that silly, little girl. The girl with striking eyes doesn't believe she is worthy of love, for she had grown up with that being forced into her head. Her brothers even suffering the same fate before her. They were all doomed from the start. 
Why would she drag him into this fiery pit of destruction? 
The clothes that had once stood in the way of them being completely intimate had been discarded quickly like a drunken stumble, the location meaning nothing to the two intoxicated teens acting upon their feelings rather than expressing it through words.
It's the feeling of ecstasy that overwhelms her when he sits back, pulling her into his lap. He's still buried inside her, his hand grasping her breast as the other grasped her hip to lead her. Her eyes close as she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck, a moan expressing the feeling of pleasure she feels. His lips messily leave kisses among her collarbone and neck, wanting nothing more to make his mark. He wanted everyone to know that she was his. There's no being courteous and saving her from the possibility of covering up the hickeys. 
He's coming close to his peak, she feels his movements quicken. It makes her want more, so she whines for it. Her nails dig into his skin as he leads. His thumb is working against her cłit, working to get her to her own peak. He knows he's just driving her insane, and he loves it. She's made him work for this, and it feels good. He just won't say those words. Besides, he still has a reputation to protect. 
"I ca-can-" she sputters out, before giving a silent cry as she reaches her climax. Her teeth clamping down on the skin of the eighteen year old she was straddling.
He promised her an empty floor after escaping the party, both shit-faced. She doesn't care. Moaning loudly on a usually occupied floor like this? Her voice would carry and the thought of her voice carrying made her sick to her stomach. Well, she didn't trust the privacy he promised her. 
He cums shortly after her, riding his climax. He’s no longer able to control his aggression. His fingernails dug into her hips; his teeth clamping down onto the skin of her collarbone. There's a metallic taste stinging his taste buds; then he knows that he has drawn blood. He pulls away from the tiny master piece on his lap and stares at her for a moment or two. That's when he presses a kiss to her lips; a well-deserved kiss that hopefully sent all the overwhelming feelings he felt for this girl.     
The morning comes all too soon. The sun wasn't fully up, but she awaken by the light blue peaking through his closed curtains. Her head lifts from the pillow, seeing if he was still there. He was, but he wasn't facing her. His back was to her, lightly snoring. And, the realization that she fell asleep before she could get to her own room is a hard blow. 
This wasn't supposed to happen. They were past that, and she knew that. There was no way of avoiding it, but it doesn't mean she won't try running away from whatever it was she was feeling for him. That thought only reminds her of who she used to be before he obnoxiously and aggressively stepped into her life - she wasn't the one who ran away. She avoided conflict.
She felt like she was betraying herself when she got out of the bed. The feeling makes her stomach crunch in embarrassment. Shit. Why did she want to fucking stay? They weren't a couple; she shouldn't have even slept over! She crept around his room, dressing in the discarded clothes from the night before. The light snoring stops just as she is about to take her first step out of his room.
They both pretend he's still asleep. 
It's only how it starts
The second time he's ambushed in the bathroom during a class. It's empty, expect for the snarky girl who had shoved this crude bastard, locking the door behind them. To be safer, she puts her hands on his chest to push him into a stall. The both of them barely fit. He's a big guy; the breadth of his shoulders take up most of the confined space. Thank the Gods for the petite girl, because if it weren't for her, well, they probably wouldn't be doing what they're doing. 
It seems to be serious when she grabs his t-shirt, pulling him down to her eye-level, her mouth to his ear. "Next time you grab my ass when I'm talking to Cementoss while you're passing, I'll kick your ass." she threaten half-heartedly and haughtily into his ear. 
Even if she was being serious, he wouldn't have taken her seriously. Not when she's pressed up against him, already having her hand in his pants. 
He doesn't reply to her; all he does is scoff. It's short lived, because as soon as he begins it, her fingers wrap around his dick and stroking him steadily. A smug grin appears across her lips as he writhes, fumbling to stabilize himself along the slick surface of the stalls. It’s infuriating. He wants to mark her. He wants her to feel him - to know she's his. He mostly wants to wipe that smug look off of her face. He  bares his teeth and snaps at her mouth to her lower lip between them. 
He cums in her hand, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he's sure he's bruised her through that skirt. He presses his lips against hers tenderly after he finishes his release. It seems so unlike him that she questions it almost immediately. It makes her want to rip away from him, yell at him this isn't what she wanted from him. But, she figured this is who he really is: thumb to her cheek, lips on hers, a bit of a superhero, a bit of a bleeding heart. She wants to hate it, but she can't. 
So, she's gone. She leaves before he has the chance to say anything, shoving out of the stall. She leaves before he even has the chance to reciprocate 
The next few weeks seem to go smoothly between the two. They walk together, sit together; she doesn’t piss him off that much. He even once kicked the back of her knees when she wasn’t looking, swiftly catching the girl in his arms, though, she hits and curses him for it. It always made him laugh. There was nothing more entertaining than watching her flustered with heated cheeks. 
People notice their “friendship” - as far as they knew. Unsurprisingly, people have little hope for them. She doesn’t fit into his life - the life of someone climbing to the number one position. He shouldn’t waste his time for the undecided girl. It seems like she’s the only one who realizes that. He should want a girl who has a high chance of achieving the things he wants, not a probable hero course dropout like her brother. She’s not worth the trouble of being a distraction. 
They skip lunches, escaping to the rooftop They don’t seem to mind spending so much time with together anymore; they used to be hesitant to even go anywhere alone together as if their presences bothered each other.  Most of the time, it doesn’t. 
 Most of the time he just drags her to the stairwell and fucks her against the wall or the stairs,  breaking the skin of her elbows in little cuts. Sometimes they make it up to the rooftop, and have their way there. He fucks her with his fingers, wanting to tease her and make her feel the way she makes him feel when she uses her hands. He fucks her with his tongue, his dick twitching his pants every time he hears his name escape her mouth. Both his fingers and tongue tease. One licking up and down her torso, as the middle and index of his fingers circle around her cłit. They do this until she's whining for it. 
There's something about the way she holds a book, or just fucking sits there in that stupid desk. The way her eyes focus on whatever she may be doing, always crossing her legs. There's something about the way she runs the tip of her tongue over her lower lip to moisten it. There's only so much a man can take. 
There's only so much a man can take when some douche bag in class b approaches her, this smile on his face and hope in his eyes. She may look uninterested, but that is exactly how she looked when they first met and look at them now. Nevertheless, this guy must have been talking about something she was interested in because the douche bag got her to give this smile - the one he earns. It cuts the deepest, because he knows he can't do anything. She's not his. She doesn't belong to anyone, and it frustrates him. But that frustration subsides when she walks away from this douche bag, her braid exposing the hickies he’s given her. 
She’s his. 
There's a better chance of their clothes thrown across the room, with him tangled between her legs and her nails clawing into his back. This was one of the times where they were clothed. He was laying on his bed on his stomach, with her sitting on his butt and legs in a criss-cross position. A notebook by his shoulders with another beside them, her eyes shift between them, scribbling down notes. 
"Fuckin' Cementoss." she cursed their teacher, copying down the notes as his eyes flutter open and closed. She shakes her head, her eyes flickering up at the back of his blonde-haired head. 
He's almost asleep, but when he doesn’t move, he feels the thud of a notebook hitting the back of his head. "Motherfuc-" he stops shouting mid-sentence, reaching behind him with the one arm that wasn't supporting his head to nudge her a little. “What’s your fucking problem, you fucking brat?"
The remark earns nothing more than a roll of her eyes as she leans forward, hovering over him as she snatches the pillow he's using, “I’m no brat, you’re the brat. Next time you call me that, I’ll beat you to a pulp." He’s rubbing off on her. It only makes him grin into his arm
"Cocksucker."
"Sadist." 
He wriggles around underneath her when she sits back on his ass, writing down something. She scoffs at him, placing her hands down on his bare-back. "I'm not going to sodomize you, Jesus." 
He snorts, "Just seems like the natural progression of things, you little brat.”
She rolls her eyes, tossing her things aside, bending her head and licks a stripe up his spine just to sink her teeth into the muscle at the base of his skull. He jerks underneath her, a loud curse is shouted. She looks down at him darkly, although he can't see. "Don't joke."
He opens his mouth to spit out a threat, but doesn’t say a thing, he's far too distracted by the way her fingers are gently messaging his scalp. He can't see, but she's studying the details of him. He's no secret to her. Sometimes she wishes that he knew that. She admires him; he didn't know that either. Soon he’s asleep, but she doesn’t mind.
A few days later she’s heading to her dorm. It's no surprise that she was with him. She has the red marks on her neck to prove it; the bruises on the soft skin of her thigh. She wasn't sure if this was what falling in love was. It frighten her that she had become this comfortable with a person before. It fucking scared her. She stops when she hears voices around the corner saying her name.
“Does she really think he actually likes her? It’s a little sad.” 
“Why would he be into someone who ranking so low?”
With that the Class B girls make their way down the hallway, leaving the girl speechless. She doesn’t say anything - it's not like she could anyway. How did they know? In school as far as anyone knew they were friends. Nothing more. Well, the people who assumed they were fucking were right, but nothing had ever been answered. They weren't romantically affection to each other in public - well, actually, he was hugged once. Other than that? Nothing. 
As she turned around and unlocked the door, she wiped some tears that escaped her eyes. Shit. She was crying? What was this? . As she packs an overnight bag with the intention of staying with her brother, she knows they are right. She didn't say anything to her brother once she goes through the front door, unannounced. She just walks past him, going straight to the guest bedroom room, slamming and locking the door, ignoring his voice. She exhaled, her lower lip quivering. 
He wasn't meant for her. No matter how much they enjoyed each other’s company or not. They were never going to end up together; no matter how much they tried. He was going to end up with someone who was worthy. Someone as smart as he was, ambitious. Their end was inevitable. Didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. She crawls into bed after getting rid of the clothing she's wearing.
It's almost an instinct when she pulls out her phone and dials his number. She's in bed, huddled against her pillow as the rings go on. 
“What do you want, little brat?” 
She didn't answer; she bites onto her lip, debating whether to say anything or just hang up. 
"You there, dumbass?” 
And, it's a final decision when she presses the end button to the call and closes her eyes.
He’s not meant for you anyway.
It's the little patter she hears that wakes her up hours later. She squeezes her eyes shut, expecting it to be her brother actually knocking on the door, but nothing comes. She realizes that it's coming from her window. The hell? She sits up, holding a hand to her forehead and sighs to herself. “It’ll stop” she thinks to herself as she lays back down. It's still going - the patter. Then she realizes what's going on. She rolls her eyes, getting out of bed. 
There he was in all his glory, standing there with pebbles in his hand, crimson eyes narrowed, face twisted in a scowl. 
"I am not your Juliet, jackass." she mutters before opening it to see the stupid teenager.  "Do you realize the time it is? Oh, and that we aren’t in a Nicholas Sparks melodrama? No? Well, you’re going to break curfew.”
Regardless of the time and how she feels, she lets him come inside after bickering. Though, her appearance isn't something he's ever seen before. A face clean of makeup, a over-sized sweater and sweats, her unruly hair up in a messy bun. She looks like a completely different person, but he says nothing. He steps into the apartment he's been to before. She ushers him to the bedroom, hoping that neither of them would wake up her brother. 
She closes the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want?" she asks, watching him. 
“What’s with the attitude, dumbass?” he questions, glaring. 
"You need to leave." she told him honestly, "I don't think we should do this anymore - whatever we're doing." 
He looks at her with a bored expression now, “Another tantrum, brat?” he drawls out, but then she moves to unlock and open her door to kick him out. “Alright, idiot, relax.” he stands up and goes to her, one hand closing her door and the other hand going to her waist, but she shrugs him off. 
Now he knows she's being serious. This isn't couldn't be good. This was destruction waiting to happen; he should have seen this coming. She stares off at the wall, arms crossed over her chest insecurely. He knows that look anywhere. Her eyebrows are furrowed and there are little wrinkles on her forehead; her lower lip being clenched by teeth. What was going through her mind at this point? 
“I’m not kidding. This is boring. I’m over it.”
“No one gets bored of me.” He grunts,, hands now in his pockets. “Where’s this shit coming from?” his question leaves her questioning herself even more. 
"You're not going to stay," the girl finally tells him after minutes of silence, staring at him with empty eyes. 
It's not even a minute that goes by when he has his lips on hers, cupping her face, expecting her to throw him off and yell at him to get out; they were done - what "they" were. She defies logic; she kisses him back, mouth opening under the pressure of his tongue, hand sliding down to pull him in. It's him that's backing them up, searching for the bed, and eventually make contact, landing on top of her and kissing her neck. Pinned once again, she doesn't care anymore. She's too lost into the kiss to care. She wants his mouth on her, so she pulls him away from her and captures it with her own, tongue thrusting it and out, twining it with his. She's moan, knee pushing up through his thigh's, rubbing hard against his dick. He rocks down, breathes heavy through his nose. 
She's blanketed in his weight, his warmth, the miles of smooth skin hiding below his clothes. She knows this body. She knows what his bare chest feels like under the flat of her palm. She knows the strength of his arms when wrapped around her, lifting her from the ground. She knows how he can go from a weapon to a lover in a instant. She's not ready to say goodbye, but it's better now than later. But it's much harder when he has his hands up her sweater, familiarizing itself 
"No," she whispers, pulling back from his lips, shaking her head in the slightest. "No, Katsuki."
He cups her face, thumb caressing her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, idiot.” he assures her.
“Oh my God, I am in a melodrama.”
48 notes · View notes
thorniest-rose · 4 years
Text
reddie halloween prompt #6 pumpkin
Eddie had lived in denial for a long time. It was a denial that had clung to him since he’d been a little boy. Never letting himself get dirty. Being scared of falling ill. Not letting his eyes linger too much on the handsome men he saw in the pharmacy or at the grocery store. And never letting himself enjoy food. Because food meant gluttony. It meant allergies and intolerances. It meant turning out like his mother, who he watched grow bigger and rounder every year.  
He spent years like that, not letting himself enjoy anything. Convincing himself he was so frail that all he could eat were egg whites and leafy greens or the leanest chicken with a plate of boiled vegetables. No gluten. No sugar. Hardly any fats or carbs. For more than 20 years he was as austere as a Puritan. And he told himself it was for the best. 
Until Richie, that was. Until they had finally defeated the clown. 
Things started to change then. Slowly at first but surely. Eddie left his sham of a marriage; he came out of the closet; he admitted to Richie one night, as the two of them shared a bowl of ice cream by Richie's swimming pool, that he was in love with him. And then, after he let himself try a slice of challah one day at a coffee shop downtown, toasted gently and spread with honey, Eddie let himself fall. 
First, Eddie made banana bread using some old, overripe bananas on their kitchen table. Then he baked chewy oatmeal cookies one morning after he’d served up their overnight oats. Before Eddie knew it, he was cooking up a storm: he ordered cookbooks, watched videos, bookmarked blogs. And he started to love the act of cooking. Looked forward to planning out their meals and going grocery shopping. There were fluffy ricotta pancakes in the morning; a cheese and spinach quiche with salad in the afternoon, chicken thighs baked in white wine, olive oil and parmigiano reggiano in the evening. And then, teasingly, a silky mousse or sliver of cheesecake.  
Richie, who had the biggest appetite out of anyone Eddie had ever known, scarfed down everything Eddie made as quickly as a dog. He'd been happy to see Eddie enjoy food more and actively encouraged his cooking.
What Eddie hadn't expected was how sexy Richie had found it. How he watched Eddie cook with his blue eyes lit up with some kind of mischief. Sometimes coming up behind him so he could trail his hands over Eddie’s hips as he cooked, snaking a hand around his chest to tweak a nipple through his t-shirt, or to press the flat of his palm to Eddie’s lower stomach in a vaguely territorial touch that had Eddie half-panting as he stirred. 
Eddie always kicked Richie out eventually, swatting him away with a wooden spoon or elbowing him in the stomach. But it didn't stop Eddie from growing ruby-cheeked or getting hard in his pants. Something Richie definitely noticed as he chuckled and said, "You feeling okay there, baby?"
Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. Not that he thought it would happen that morning, as he prepared a homemade pumpkin pie for the first time. That he’d end up pushed up against the counter in their spacious, airy kitchen with Richie's jeans shoved down his thighs and his cock balls deep inside Eddie's ass. 
The pie looks good. Eddie had completed the crust, and he’s busy with the filling: mixing eggs, spices and fresh pumpkin purée in a bowl. Or at least he was trying to. Because Richie’s cock was nudging his prostate, and every time Eddie tried to focus on what he was doing, Richie would tilt his hips slightly and brush up against his sweet spot.
Richie had spent the whole time cooing into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, as he stroked Eddie's hips like he was a skittish, easily frightened domestic pet.
The whisk clatters to the counter as Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan. 
“I can’t do it,” he says, his head hanging down between his shoulders. 
Richie leans in and swipes his tongue against the bare skin at his feverish nape.
“I think you can,” he says. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well.”
Richie hadn’t fucked him that morning like he usually did, making the excuse that he had an important Zoom meeting. That he had to get ready for some presentation with the big suits about the future of his show. Eddie had said okay, that made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Richie kissed him on the cheek and disappeared out the room. 
But it turns out this was why. Richie had been saving it for this. 
Eddie tries not to moan at how deep Richie is inside him. There’s nothing between them, not even a layer of latex, and it’s almost too much. Richie’s cock is stretching him wide - with a shiver, he can imagine how obscene his hole must look around Richie’s cock - and on each small thrust into him, Eddie can feel Richie’s balls brush against his thighs. 
“I hate you,” he mutters as his arms tremble, hands clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that they're porcelain white.
Richie tsks against his neck. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your finance, is it? When he takes such good care of you.”
Eddie laughs, and it sounds manic. “Is this what you think taking care of me looks like?”
He expects a joke, or a witty retort. Instead what he gets is Richie’s fingers tightening to a bone-bruising grip on his hips. Eddie would cry out, goes to, except Richie shoots out a hand and shoves three thick fingers into Eddie’s mouth, stifling the sound. 
With an edge of steel Richie says, “Why don’t you stop talking back and do as you’re told?”
Eddie starts to say “okay”, only he can’t, not with Richie’s fingers in his mouth, how they press down his tongue. So he nods his head as much as he can to get the point across. He’ll make the pie. He’ll be good. 
“That's better,” Richie says.
He pushes his fingers deeper into Eddie’s mouth, getting them wet to the knuckle, the force of it making Eddie gag. It feels like a warning. That Eddie better be good because he's not in the mood to play. Then he pulls them out as fast as he’d pushed them in, bringing them back to Eddie's hip.
"Go on then," he says, but this time there's the hint of a laugh in his voice. Like he finds humiliating Eddie like this funny.
Eddie feels winded, the corners of his mouth feel bruised, but he picks up the whisk again and starts swirling the filling. It’s not as fast as he’d usually do it, but it’s the best he can do. Behind him, Richie starts to pick up the pace a little, pulling out and pushing his cock deeper into Eddie’s needy, clenching hole. He hits his prostate again, making him arch back against the tall line of Richie’s body. 
“R-Richie, I can’t,” he says, on the verge of dropping the whisk again. Of abandoning the pie and begging Richie to fuck him. 
But he knows that won't do.
From behind him Richie says, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I thought you could be good? Do you want me to pull out?”
Eddie shakes his head. He doesn't. Even though it was maddening: the torturous, slow push of Richie’s cock inside him, the feeling of his zipper rubbing up against his ass, the drip of precome at the end of Eddie’s dick where he’d grown flushed and hard against the counter. But the thought of Richie pulling out and leaving him there while he went to the bedroom to jerk off was even worse. He has a thought of Richie coming all over their bedsheets, of wasting his come instead of depositing it deep inside Eddie where it belonged, and he almost whines.
“No Richie, I want it so bad, please. Please don’t pull out,” he begs, in a voice he doesn’t even recognise. Something high and wanton. A voice he didn’t even know he could make until Richie laid him down on his bed one night all those months ago and pushed inside him for the first time. 
“Beautiful boy,” Richie says sweetly. “Finish it, come on,” he murmurs.
So Eddie does. As Richie continues his slow, tormenting pace, Eddie finishes whisking the filling and lifts the bowl with shaky fingers so he can pour it into the pastry shell. He almost drops it, but manages to right the bowl at the last second. Afterwards he stares at it: the beautiful, flaky, butter pastry crust with its autumnal filling, and that floaty feeling of satisfaction comes over him. He’d done good. He did exactly as Richie told him.
“I’ve done it, Richie,” he sighs, his voice sounding faraway. “I’ve finished the pie.”
He melts when Richie kisses him on the side of his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point where it jumps rapidly.
“I knew you could do it, Eddie, I knew you could make me happy.”
And Richie rewards him for it. With one hand he pulls Eddie’s hips back and with the other he pushes Eddie’s cheek down against the counter until Eddie's bent at an obscene angle. At a fuckable angle, Eddie thinks with a shiver. But that’s the last coherent thought he has for a long time because a moment later Richie’s pulling out until just the tip of his dick is spearing Eddie open, and then he does what Eddie’s wanted all this time. He shoves back inside, the squelch of the lube pornographically loud in their quiet kitchen, and he rails him hard, letting that hidden, ferocious side come out.
It’s the hardest fuck Eddie’s had in days, and fuck it feels so good, his ass bouncing off Richie’s sharp hips on every thrust, Richie's cock punching his tiny hole open, and the low-pitched growl coming from Richie’s throat making his dick drool at the tip.
It's something he can't believe he's denied himself for so long.
"I kind of want to eat this pumpkin pie out of you," Richie suddenly says. "Would you let me do that? Just finger it inside of your dumb cunt and then eat it out of you?"
And it shouldn't sound hot. It should sound ridiculous. But it doesn't stop Eddie from crying out or his balls drawing up.
"I'm going to-"
He cuts off on a high whine as Richie reaches around and grabs him in warning.
"You better not. Not until I say."
Eddie nods, and Richie starts fucking him again, hammering his prostate on every push inside him, muttering so filthy it makes Eddie flush all the way down to his chest.
And when Richie finally tells him to come he does, clenching around him until he shoots sticky white all over the counter. 
“Good boy,” Richie says as he pulls his cock out to smear the sticky head against the sore skin at his hole, making Eddie quiver. “Now let's go for that money shot. How much do you think you can make Daddy come?"
And Eddie, with gusto, shows him.
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sheabutterari · 4 years
Text
From My Heart To Yours
I am sorry. I was acting like an ass. Im sorry for being insensitive. I truly love y’all so much. I swear to god i be meaning well. I’m not the most structured when i start talking and that has been a blessing and curse. I’ve grown too comfortable with viewing my supporters as my bestie that I can freely vent to with no repercussions. I feel the need to protect people that I feel are genuinely good people. If you know me, you know I speak on what’s unjust in MY mind. But it doesn’t matter if ultimately my opinion is perceived as toxic and ignorant and harmful. I made it very clear who specifically I was talking about but Carry on with your misconstrued judgement of me. My heart is in the right place and I can only pray you’ll one day see that. I see what’s being said and I feel the pain of those I genuinely I hurt and I’m sorry. I realize I need to stfu and stay offline. It’s so mentally draining trying to do good and it comes out completely detrimental. I’m sorry for triggering people and I’m sorry if I caused any trauma. Im sorry for victim shaming, swear that wasn’t my intent. I repeat that WAS NOT my intent. I’m learning how to deal with my feelings in private like most people in music. You see there is no room for growth in this industry publicly it is best to find your way in private. To have healthy and productive  conversations in private. I shouldn’t be aimlessly figuring it out in front of y’all. I was speaking on a very sensitive topic and I failed to facilitate sensitively, intelligently and healthily. I impulsively spiraled cause I was sick of seeing the distasteful shade especially at such a terrible and sad time towards someone I know is good person. With that said I wasn’t trying to discredit other people and their truths and opinions. Also I don’t need black men to stick up for me in order to do what I know is right in my heart and that’s speak up if I feel people are being distasteful towards them. Same goes for black women especially! everything I do is for black girl magic, glory, unity and our greatness. I INNATELY love on my people and don’t need a specific reason to look out but ultimately I want to be better and do it better. I want to grow. I want to be a light. I want to be enlightened. I’m not out here trying to protect toxic individuals. That’s not what I believe i did. My opinion, though filled with disarray came from a place of love and empathy and sadness. But my delivery was harmful. I shouldn’t have disrespected anyone in trying to communicate my feelings. Honestly I should’ve just ate my food and booked a therapy session. I love you genuinely. I’m excited to leave social media for good. I’m excited for true self love, healing, understanding and peace. To all the people who checked me from a place of love, I love you forever and I hear you and I deeply empathize more than you’ll ever know. I would love to keep the conversation going in real life. Don’t want to move in this world hurting people. Thank you for your constructive criticism. Thanks for checking me. IG live it’s been a fun ride sweet angel baby cakes, but our mental peace is most important so I’m out <3
- Ari Lennox
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