#on top of that i barely have time to read stuff i actually enjoy :')

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either. 

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers. 

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid. 

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure. 

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you. 

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it. 

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth. 

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought. 

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you. 

You do fast math, panic math. 

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home. 

Your stomach churns. 

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain. 

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this. 

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots. 

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call. 

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing. 

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride. 

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box. 

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone. 

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,” 

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?” 

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?” 

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop. 

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys. 

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops. 

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,” 

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,” 

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming. 

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first. 

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress. 

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care. 

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless. 

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.  

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately. 

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. 

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse. 

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill. 

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air. 

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather. 

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way. 

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?” 

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,” 

He blinks, “y/n,” 

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,” 

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality. 

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you. 

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,” 

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position. 

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.  

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?” 

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know,” 

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.” 

Oh. 

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,” 

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words. 

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,” 

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact. 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?” 

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,” 

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish. 

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,” 

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.” 

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,” 

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait. 

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory. 

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,” 

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone. 

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,” 

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,” 

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road. 

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,” 

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile. 

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,” 

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,” 

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?” 

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,” 

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave. 

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,” 

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in. 

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain. 

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.” 

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?” 

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,” 

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,” 

“I know,” You breathe. 

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?” 

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,” 

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,” 

 “I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,” 

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,” 

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?” 

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.” 

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly. 

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,” 

His hand tightens on yours. 

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” 

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour. 

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you. 

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,” 

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,” 

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.” 

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,” 

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green. 

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,” 

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty. 

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,” 

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?” 

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,” 

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,” 

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,” 

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,” 

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal. 

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?” 

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol. 

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times. 

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,” 

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here. 

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride. 

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding. 

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go. 

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,” 

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands. 

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps. 

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,” 

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,” 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,” 

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,” 

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself. 

But then he laughs again. 

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?” 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf. 

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,” 

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign. 

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,” 

He nods, “I remember,” 

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,” 

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,” 

“Mm,” You laugh. 

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise. 

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’” 

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,” 

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,” 

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little. 

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,” 

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?” 

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” 

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you. 

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,” 

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back. 

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,” 

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue. 

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,” 

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” 

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee. 

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question. 

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”  

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash. 

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,” 

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply. 

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning. 

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it. 

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him. 

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least. 

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, ���Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” 

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,” 

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,” 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,” 

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has. 

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours. 

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird. 

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?” 

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in. 

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,” 

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you. 

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,” 

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,” 

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw. 

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,” 

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants. 

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss. 

“God,” He shivers. 

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,” 

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away. 

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,” 

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,” 

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back. 

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,” 

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth. 

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart. 

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms. 

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip. 

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?” 

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small. 

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,” 

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?” 

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards. 

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.” 

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,” 

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,” 

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?” 

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,” 

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,” 

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,” 

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,” 

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,” 

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity. 

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,” 

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out. 

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,” 

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat. 

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,” 

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,” 

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again. 

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,” 

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,” 

“Baby?” 

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,” 

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley. 

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,” 

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?” 

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,” 

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you. 

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” 

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?” 

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?” 

“Please,” You whisper. 

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric. 

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess. 

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,” 

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else. 

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,” 

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,” 

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,” 

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises. 

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,” 

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again. 

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction. 

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,” 

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,” 

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you. 

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you. 

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,” 

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze. 

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,” 

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile. 

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” 

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly. 

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,” 

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,” 

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam. 

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip. 

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this. 

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?” 

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.  

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,” 

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?” 

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high. 

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?” 

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast. 

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,” 

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,” 

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?” 

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,” 

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?” 

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,” 

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,” 

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,” 

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,” 

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth. 

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,” 

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,” 

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you. 

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,” 

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,” 

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts. 

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap. 

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,” 

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,” 

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder. 

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit. 

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,” 

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,” 

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,” 

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin. 

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,” 

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,” 

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,” 

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,” 

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,” 

“Anything?” 

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.” 

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?” 

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,” 

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,” 

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench. 

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen. 

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his. 

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs. 

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,” 

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,” 

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,” 

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?” 

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder. 

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?” 

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand. 

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,” 

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls. 

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper. 

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,” 

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,” 

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?” 

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?” 

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again. 

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,” 

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you. 

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz. 

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again. 

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you. 

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams. 

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go. 

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease. 

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms. 

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,” 

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?” 

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone. 

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,” 

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him. 

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,” 

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock. 

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,” 

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him. 

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,” 

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him. 

He nods, just a little. 

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,” 

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers. 

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this. 

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,” 

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?” 

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,” 

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs. 

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel. 

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down. 

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,” 

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early. 

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,” 

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,” 

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again. 

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips. 

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest. 

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,” 

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,” 

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards. 

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,” 

Your eyes slam shut. 

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,” 

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming. 

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”  

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,” 

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

  “So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss. 

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,” 

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm. 

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,” 

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you. 

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,” 

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together. 

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move. 

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,” 

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,” 

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,” 

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,” 

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?” 

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly. 

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,” 

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,” 

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,” 

“Good,” He sighs. 

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,” 

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,” 

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs. 

Maybe you could rally. 

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,” 

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,” 

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing. 

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed. 

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. 

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine. 

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads. 

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,” 

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest. 

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake. 

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention. 

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,” 

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,” 

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,” 

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,” 

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups. 

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,” 

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,” 

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?” 

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest. 

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,” 

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog. 

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel. 

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,” 

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks. 

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,” 

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,” 

“You what,” You blink. 

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,” 

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go. 

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,” 

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side. 

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue. 

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,” 

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you. 

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,” 

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap. 

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,” 

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?” 

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,” 

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand. 

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,” 

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,” 

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch. 

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #seventeen ff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt ff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups fic #scoups smut #scoups ff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff

[n6ptunova]

i loved your chris bf hcs! could you please do one for matt? thank you and i hope you’re having a good day :)

boyfriend headcanons • matt sturniolo

a/n: thank you so much ily!! hope you enjoy thiss🫶

warnings: none

- you can’t convince me that matt wouldn’t be the type of bf who accidentally ignores you in public/groups of friends. he doesn’t mean to but he’s so awkward and doesn’t like pda much so when he tries to avoid it he avoids you altogether. it used to hurt your feelings but after talking to him he reassured you that he’s just a dumbass.

- he makes up for being distant in public when you guys are alone tho. he lovesss having you in his arms hugging his slutty waist, while he strokes your hair and kisses your head/cheeks occasionally. he’s def the big spoon most of the time.

- his love language is physical touch and acts of service, so he’ll often want to drive you to run errands together (grocery shopping, ikea visits, etc.) it makes him feel like you’re a married couple which kind of sums up your relationship with him.

- he’s also the designated bug killer, bob the builder ass bf. you got new furniture that needs to be built? he’s doing it no question. you broke something and need it fixed? he’s on it. he almost babies you honestly and he loves it but when you take it too far and act too spoiled he’ll be like alright wrap it up.

- he’s kind of moody sometimes for no reason like you’ll be making jokes or annoying him for fun and he’s just “not having it” when in reality he can’t get enough of your attention, he’ll pretend to be annoyed and keep rolling his eyes but he can’t wipe the goofy ass smile off his face.

- BABY FEVER!! every time he seems a cute baby out in public or on tiktok he turns into the biggest softy, “babe look oh my goddd they’re so cute i want one.” *hears the baby laughing* “nvm i want ten.”

- perks of dating someone with a car (ns to chris and nick! full shade actually) is you get to go on a lot of late night cruises with the top down, blasting your fav music, him using his free hand to switch between holding yours and placing it on your thigh. plus you get some privacy to….be risky! if ykwim

- matt loves when you take an interest in something he loves eg. pokemon, certain artists he listens to, cabin life, etc. he gets so excited and giddy and he’ll want to tell you everything he knows about these things. and he does the same for you but he gets embarrassed and defensive if you point it out so you just silently appreciate it.

- ^ you once caught him reading one of your favorite books simply because he wanted to talk to you about it and seeing you get all excited and passionate while talking about it.

- he’s definitely a soft launch type of guy. always posting pics where you just barely show. the back of your head, or your nails in the corner of the pic, your shoes etc. i can’t imagine him fully posting up with his gf on instagram or tiktok but maybe if it’s been a few years he’d do it for anniversaries and it’ll be like aesthetic ass pinterest vibes photos.

- matt would always be taking candid photos/videos of you and saves them in an album that’s full of just you. 90% of his screen time is his camera roll just bc he’s always looking and admiring the pics he took of you, he’s obsessed fr.

- after a while i feel like matt would start to show his silly/goofy side a lot more with you. he would so be the type to chase you around trying to tickle you- he just loves hearing your laugh. it usually ends with him pinning you down with one hand and tickling you with the other until you’re almost out of breath then he’ll stop and kiss you to make up for it.

- he’ll be more talkative with you than with his brothers sometimes since you don’t interrupt. he’s always rambling about whatever’s on his mind and apologies after like pookie you’re good talk more!!

- he’s a bit indecisive in general like where to eat, date ideas and stuff but he tries because he knows you like when he’s ‘assertive’. idk how to explain this but he acts like the stereotypical “man provides” but in a non toxic/non misogynistic way.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo headcanons #n6ptunova

[gublersg1rl]

baking with a genius :)

(Blurb)

plot: reader is baking, and spencers being a smartass and it’s PISSIN HER OFF !!!

a/n: this is my first blurb, i thought the idea was kinda cute??? is this cringe??? pls don’t unfollow,,,ik this is poorly written im not the best pls bare with me im trying

warnings: reader is a girl, a little suggestive at the end cuz why tf not, established relationship, reader is annoyed, spencers more dominant but not in a sexual way, proofread but could 100% be mistakes, errrr idkkk i think that’s it????

-♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡-

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, dusting flour off your hands. “Now I need—“

“Two eggs.” Spencer’s voice interrupts.

You close your eyes tightly, so tight you see fireworks, and huff. “You don’t know that, Spencer.”

“But I do, actually. I read it.” He said pointing to the Pinterest recipe that was open on your phone.

Your eyes glance over the screen, re-reading the already forgotten recipe. “Oh,” you say letting a moment of submission surrender. “Actually I want to use 3 eggs…So you’re wrong Spencer.” The lie was poorly thought of, but you would do anything for Spencer to not win this one sided battle.

He frowns his brow, giving you a confused look. “Why would you want to use three eggs?”

“Because you don’t know what you are talking about. Maybe you’re good at—“ you pause thinking about how to phrase your annoyance. “Doctorting— or-“ your hands flail everywhere as you desperately try to describe your emotions with made up words.

That was until you felt Spencer get ahold of your wrists, “Look at me.”

You bite the corner of your bottom lip, looking to the left, trying to disobey his gently order.

“Baby.” His voice soft, yet strong.

You give in, looking up at him in those damn honey colored eyes puppy dog eyes. “What.” You reply flatly, it wasn’t a question, rather a response.

His eyes narrow, and head tilts a little, giving you a “You know what” look.

“Can you just….go in the living room for a bit…?”

“Forgetting something, love?”

You sigh, “Please…?”

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile, letting go of your wrists.

-hehe small time jump to when the preheat is done-

You had always been scared of putting stuff in the oven, it just was so easy to get burned. Those traumatic times in middle school you burned yourself with a curling iron was enough to make you cautious of getting burned again.

You stare at the oven for what feels like forever, contemplating what to do. You look over to your boyfriend who is comfortably reading a book on the couch.

“Spencer…?” You call out in a quiet, embarrassed tone.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks putting down his half read book, looking over at you.

“Can you help me put the cookies in the oven…” You mumble.

He smiled softly, “Sorry, what’d you say?” Spencer responded even though he was perfectly aware of your question.

“Spencer.” You whine, hearing that smirk painted across his face just through his voice.

“I’m kidding angel. I’ll be right there.” He says giving into your pleas.

It isn’t much longer until your boyfriend completes your difficult task in seconds.

“I’m sorry I got so annoyed with you today…”

“It’s okay,” Spencer replied pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t stress it. We all have those days.”

His fingers gently combed through your hair, as you both sat in silence enjoying the peace.

You move your chin to rest on his chest, as you look up at him. “You know…we have 20 minutes all to ourselves until the cookies finish baking,”

Spencer chuckles, “Oh really?”

“Mmhmh.”

“Well, thinking about it. I’ve got a couple ways you could apologize,” He said leaning in gently pressing a small peck into your lips.

“Yeah me too,” you whisper back leaning in for another kiss.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #y/n x spencer reid #reader x spencer reid #Matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #fan fiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine

[penny-anna]

i have other things to do but here we gooooo owl house fic recs:

Autism to Autism Communication by Polyhexian

"I understand sarcasm," Hunter said, sounding offended. He crossed his arms. "You didn't do the voice thing." Darius stared at him. "The what?" Hunter put his arms in the air and gave his hands a sarcastic little wave. "I GuEsS I'LL hAvE tO sToP cOmInG oVeR, tHeN," he said in the most over the top and comical parody of sarcasm that Darius had ever heard in his life.

everything by this author is great & this one is a joy and a delight!!

Extant Species by Polyhexian

She'd been called a monster more times than she could count, but she knew what a real monster looked like.

i'd happily rec a bunch of polyhexian's stuff but this lil vee & hunter fic was a highlight. especially enjoy the part where hunter's advising her on how best to go about murdering him. love that for them both!!

Owlet by Polyhexian

"Eda!" Hunter yelled as he shouldered open the door and Hooty cooed and rambled at him, "I need help with my potions homewooooooaaaat the HELL is that?!" Luz looked up from where she was sitting on the couch and reading what appeared to be a romance novel about werewolves. "What is what?" "That!" he yelled, pointing at the hulking behemoth curled up in the middle of the room in a massive pile of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. "Is that the owl beast?!"

& 1 more!! short n sweet n cute

With Clay and Star Scraps by SiryyGray

Hunter decided to do some research into Grimwalkers. First discovery: Grimwalkers were outlawed in every city under every rule as far back as the history books go. Second discovery: Grimwalkers have no natural means of death. Third discovery: there’s a caveat to that second one.

some absolutely brutal grimwalker content. SPOILERS: hunter can't outlive belos.

Intrusion by rayrock

'He drops something in. It moves and writhes, but it is clearly exhausted. “Eat,” is all he says, voice barely above a whisper. But it is a demand nonetheless, intimidating enough to send shivers down her spine. She hisses in protest once more. He tucks the notepad and pen into his cloak and pulls out a staff. It unfolds and glows a bright red. He does not say anything more. He is nearly always silent when she sees him.' Or: Vee and the Golden Guard’s relationship is complicated, but it is there

some more vee & hunter content for you

just a little bit left by prodigalDaughter

The first time Darius had seen the new Guard unmasked, the fury and betrayal had risen in him like floodwater, bubbling and steaming out of creeks and sewers. Creed had never told him he had a son. —— Hunter has discovered what he is, but he’s not the only one who has to grapple with assumptions made about his origins.

hey remember the other day when i was talking about 'what if darius thought hunter was the previous golden guard's son'! well here u go someone wrote that fic

Wild and Wandering Cries by PorcelanaRota

So his uncle goes flying into the wall directly above him and he is unable to dodge. And his uncle, who is now more palisman curse slime than he is flesh and blood, splatters on the wall, on the ground, on him. Hunter’s been in hundreds of life-or-death situations. He’s felt real and true and visceral fear that sank into his bones and marinated into terror more times than not. Still, nothing has ever left him so shocked and horrified and just flat-out scared that time has actually stopped.

belos splash zone? belos splash zone.

mistakes (the thrilling saga, in high definition) by quynnyah

"This," Amity says, "is not normal human behavior." (Or: Amity and Hunter volunteer to help Camila on a grocery trip. It goes about as well as expected.)

some banging amity & hunter in the human realm stuff for u

Notched by angelcloves

Belos removes the ear tag from his newest Grimwalker.

tiny wee fic giving a backstory for Hunter's notched ear. i rotate this concept in my brain all the time. absolutely twisted.

There is no open window, but the floors still creep by theprincessofdenial

On Tuesday, they eat Chinese. On Wednesday, Camila once again doesn’t have the time to cook, so pizza it is. On Thursday, she wants to make a proper dinner but there’s a hold up at the clinic, Luz knocks over a shelf, Willow has a wardrobe emergency, and then Amity’s cat goes missing. And Hunter beats Gus up so badly the boy ends up bleeding, so there’s also that.

hgnnnh i would rec this entire series if i could (it's 14 fics totally 200k total). its all so chewy i want to get my teeth into it and rrrrrrrrrr. ANYWAY this is my no 1 fav i've been back and re-read it about 7 times. love the Camila Noceda POV; the way it captures the chaos of all 6 kids in the house and makes it feel so real & vivid; the absolutely brutal Hunter characterisation. if ur a Hunter fan go read this right away.

Distance by theprincessofdenial

For the first minute, they all just stand there in silence and watch the airship slowly disappear beyond the horizon. Even though they’re supposed to react quickly, the cold still comes as a shock. It takes some time for the reality to settle in and for them to realize how useless everything they have brought is going to be when their marrow freezes. Hunter hears some of the Scouts inhaling sharply after they approach the ledge and look down. They turn around, unsure where to start, and they shuffle their feet in the snow (terrible decision, really, this way their boots are going to get wet even quicker). Hunter’s the first one to break the silence, and oh, he does it with style. He has been rehearsing that line for a week. “See you at the bottom, suckers!” he exclaims as he pulls out the staff and disappears in a flash of red light. (or: The Obligatory "Leave Everyone at the Top of the Mountain and See Who Makes It Back to the Bottom Alive" Fic. With a splash of Steve)

2nd rec from this series. exactly what it says on tin. *banging pots together* you like whump come get your whump i ADORE what this author does w Hunter. also Steve is there (whump for Steve!!)

A Potter's Field by theprincessofdenial

The view from the staircase is, well, not stunning, that’s definitely not the word. It’s just that “view” is supposed to be accompanied by “stunning,” and Luz can feel her brain coming to a screeching halt and refusing to process what they’re seeing. It's skeletons. Come on, they both knew it was going to be skeletons. The entire Isles know at this point. (Or: despite what the stories would have you believe, in the aftermath, there are things to deal with. Those things include ruined infrastructure, electing new leaders, and prosecuting those responsible for the old regime. And apparently, also Grimwalker mass graves.)

& third and final. unbelievably chewy post-canon fic. lets get into the reconstruction of the isles in full detail. goes hard as hell. will sit in my brain for a long time i think. cannot rec this enough.

and rats all for now!! i got a bunch more stuff in my 'marked for later' so watch this space

#the owl house #fic recs #the owl house fic recs

[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 1/4

The much anticipated sequel for "Not All That Glitters is Gold" the omegaverse epic that I recently wrapped up. The first chapter is here as I highly recommend you read it first.

Each chapter is based on something Steve wanted from the first story. Being a top omega escort and retiring at the top of his game. Having alpha health be brought to the forefront and actually studied. Being married and bonded. And finally having children of his own.

Just a few notes here: This not to say that surrogacy or adopt is lesser or not as important as biological birth. Because it absolutely isn't. This is about Steve being told he was only good for one thing and to learn his worth was far greater than anyone imagined.

This story is mature. There are sex scenes in here as well as full nudity, but also the first chapter has some awful pretty non-binary and sex worker prejudices that if you feel like you can't handle, don't read.

Each chapter is however long it took me to fill out that part. So some chapters are shorter than others, some times by almost 1000 words.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the first one!

****

Steve had finished packing up the last of his stuff. Chrissy would be moving in next week and fill the suite with everything that made her unique.

But as sad as Steve was to be leaving, he knew it was time. Twelve years as one of the best escorts Starcourt had ever seen was long enough, he thought.

A warm pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a wet kiss was placed on his bonding gland.

“Hey, honey,” Eddie cooed. “You ready to go?”

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s arms and sighed happily. “Yeah, love, I am.”

“You going to miss this?” he murmured, squeezing Steve tightly.

Steve hummed, thinking about it. “To some extent, but doing this well into my fifties and sixties was never in the cards for me.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I was always too much of a romantic for that. When I first learned I was infertile it was a relief that I didn’t have to live to my parents’ high expectations for me. I had looked up to Roxie because they were living the life young me always wanted, freedom as an omega.”

“I’m glad you got that freedom, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You really grew into your own. If you want to keep working for another couple of years, you’ve got it. I won’t stop you.”

Steve turned in his grasped and kissed him soundly. “No, Eds. This is what I want. I want a life with you. I want to bond and mate you. I want to carry your pups. As many as you want. Because if I was given the choice as a sixteen year old to have that freedom I always craved and the chance to marry and bare children? I would have taken it in a heartbeat. But when they thought I was infertile, the glamour of being an escort was the only choice for me.”

Eddie nuzzled Steve’s scent gland. “Okay, Stevie.” He nipped under Steve’s jaw. “Fuck, you are so hot when you get all passionate about shit. I could have you right here, right now on this floor if you’d let me.”

Steve slipped out of his embrace with a giggle. “As tempting as that would be, darling, the movers will be here in ten minutes and the cleaners in thirty. And I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

Eddie huffed impatiently.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

Steve walked to the door and opened it.

He stood there in shock for a moment. There on the side of the door frame was Roxie. Steve’s idol.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Come on in. You’ll pardon the mess, I’m moving out today.”

Roxie stepped in.

They were as beautiful in person as they had been on the poster on Steve’s wall as a teenager.

They were tall and thin, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. No one was sure what race Roxie was because they had an exotic look no matter where they go.

Roxie was also the first non-binary omega escort the world had ever seen.

In short Steve was enamored.

Eddie gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m going to meet the movers.”

He kissed Steve’s cheek and slipped out of the door that Roxie had just walked through.

“He’s cute,” Roxie said with a smile.

Steve blushed. “I like him.”

Roxie threw back their head and laughed. “I would hope so considering you’re bonding next month.”

Steve cocked his head and grinned. “Yeah...”

Roxie held up their prizes, two champagne flutes and a bottle of champagne. “I’ve come to celebrate!”

Steve took the glasses and wandered over to the sofa. It hadn’t been moved yet, so they at least had a place to sit.

Roxie produced a bottle opener from the confines of their coat pocket and opened the champagne. Steve held out the two glasses and Roxie poured the bubbling liquid.

“Come, come,” they said. “Sit. Tell me all about the hottie that just left.”

So Steve did.

“I’m happy for you,” Roxie said. “It took me years to find my soulmate.”

Steve blinked. “Are you–no...really?”

“A golden omega? Oh yes. Really,” Roxie said with a laugh. “I just didn’t meet my bondmate until I was much older, and we never wanted children so we bonded and just never share my heats.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” Steve asked. “Spending your heats without your bondmate?”

Roxie shook their head. “No. We still share his ruts and we use as much protection as we can. But, no. I’ve gotten used to having my heats alone, adding another person would just be complicating things at this point.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve said with a nod. “I guess I’m young enough to miss the connection that he and I share during his ruts when I have my heats.”

Roxie smiled. “I hear you had to jump through a few hoops to bond.”

Steve sighed heavily and took a long drink, nearly draining the glass. “It was a mess. I would be the first official golden omega to retire from active escorting and that was something they wanted to carefully curate. They didn’t want a scandal like what the church had last year when Chrissy broke open the illegal nature of the amount of omegas they took in.”

“That was a nightmare,” Roxie agreed. “I was shocked by it all.”

“I’m just grateful that I’ll have a few months to prepare for the fallout before the shit hits the fan,” Steve said. “After all it won’t come out until Eddie and I get pregnant.”

Roxie hummed their agreement.

“If you’re really lucky,” they said, “maybe a year or more.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “That’s what Eddie’s hoping for, but I’m fine with either, honestly. My two biggest dreams growing up were having pups and being an escort, how that would have worked out biologically, I had no idea, I was just dumb kid. But actually getting both feels like a miracle.”

Roxie smiled, their eyes crinkling. “I’m almost sad you’re a golden omega, because I really thought you would be the one to take my place as top earner when I retired next year.”

His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “Wait, really?” He couldn’t believe it. Roxie retire? That was unfathomable. Oh and the other thing, too.

Roxie must of read his mind because they laughed. “Yes, I’m retiring. I turn sixty-five next year, and I really can’t see myself doing it for much longer. And as for you, yes, darling. You. You are the best escort this industry has ever seen and you have the receipts to prove it.”

“They do want me to come back and teach the next batch of incoming escorts,” Steve said with a sigh smile. “From the ages of sixteen to eighteen, I’ll be teaching them everything I learned to make them better. And that’s more important than any glamour or glitz being an escort could possibly give me.”

“Then the agency is in better hands than I thought!” Roxie cried, gleefully clapping their hands together.

Steve smiled and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. The only reason my dad even allowed me to be an escort was because there had never been a Harrington omega who wasn’t a trophy wife. They never worked a day in their lives. So when I offered to become a wet nurse to save up money to become a teacher, he blanched and said that I was going to be an escort. At least I could make money for them that way.”

He poured himself another glass and filled Roxie’s when they put out their own too.

“Well,” Roxie said smiling over their glass, “as long as you don’t start work until after you’ve bonded Eddie, that could still be true about the whole ‘no Harrington ever being a teacher’ thing.”

Steve laughed, his eyes squeezed tight, mouth open wide and just laughing with his whole chest. “Here’s to that!”

They clinked their glasses together. They talked for a little while longer, but soon Roxie had left and the movers and the cleaners filed in.

“These knothead movers,” Eddie said darkly, “were trying to duck out of doing the job because you were celebrating still.”

The older of the alpha moving team glared at him. “How was I to know that Roxie was in there?”

“From believing me when I told you?” Eddie asked, waving his arms out in front of him.

“He is so gorgeous,” one of the omega cleaners twittered.

“They,” Steve said with a frown. “Roxie uses they/them. Unless you're talking about someone else.”

The cleaner rolled her eyes. “He was a him for decades and then decides to come out non-binary? Whatever.”

“Out!” Steve said, barely containing his rage. “I will put in complaints with your bosses and management will get in new teams if they know what’s good for them.”

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got it, babe.”

Everyone filed out, the other omega cleaners hissing and snarling their dismissal at the other girl. The movers got what they wanted so they didn’t care.

As the lead mover was passing by Steve, he muttered, “Slut.”

The alpha was on the ground trapped in an arm bar, Eddie’s knee in the middle of his back.

The alpha cried out in surprise and pain. “What the fuck?!”

“That’s my omega you just insulted,” Eddie snarled, his alpha fangs extending. “And I don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. I will make sure that your company never gets a single celebrity client ever again. Steve will make sure Starcourt never uses you again, nor any other escort agency.” He yanked on the man’s arm causing him to gasp in pain. “Now I’m going to let you up, nice and slow and then you are going to apologize to Steve. Understand?”

The man nodded and Eddie got up. After a moment the alpha mover got to his feet.

“I’m waiting,” Steve huffed. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was leaning on his back leg.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut,” the man groused, rubbing the arm Eddie had yanked.

“Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s not work,” Steve hissed. He waved his hand. “Now get out of my sight.”

The man followed his team out and Eddie slammed the door behind them.

“I’ve already contacted Powell,” Steve said. “They’ve already blacklisted both companies and have new crews being sent over.”

“Do we need to be here when they come?” Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head. “I was just cutting it fine getting the last of my stuff being packed away.”

Eddie grinned and pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Then why don’t you and I get out of here and celebrate a little bit on our own?”

“That sounds good,” Steve said, throwing his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Because that little display of yours taking down that mover was super hot.”

Eddie drew Steve in closer so they were flush against each other. “Yeah?”

Steve bit his bottom lip and nodded.

“Did my pretty little omega get wet watching his alpha take down a disgusting pig?” Eddie teased, cupping Steve’s ass with both hands.

“So wet,” Steve breathed. “Almost as wet as our first meeting, rockstar.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly and then nodded.

“Your stuff is already at my place,” he growled. “So I’m going to take you back there and fuck you into the mattress. Sound good, baby?”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Sounds so good.”

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Hi there! I'm just popping in to say that I looove all of your fics and headcanons for the One Piece men! I'm looking forward to reading more of your ongoing projects as you share them ☺️

Would you consider, in the future, maybe doing a request for headcanons of Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, and Mihawk with a short/petite female reader?

Thank you, and keep up the superb writing!

💚🩵❤️🧡

First, thank you so much!!! So so happy you're enjoying them, I am honored.

Soo most of my female characters actually are on the shorter/more petite side. I don’t like self-inserting when writing (doesn’t bother me at ALL to read it, I just don’t like writing myself), so they’re about as different from me as possible in appearance, which means short and small.

So I’ve got PLEEEENTY of headcanons for this!!

Short Stuff

NSFW Headcanons

OPLA!Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Petite!Reader

♫♬Baby Doll — The Fratellis♬♫

Baby doll, do you believe they’ll catch you when you fall,

And when morning comes, the sun is gonna shine?

Sanji

"I've never met anyone sweeter than you in my life, love."

Honestly thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. Just wants to cuddle you forever and protect you from everything.

If you’re self-conscious about your size for any reason he definitely isn’t going to tease you about it; won’t even make mention of it, if that’s what you prefer, but he still absolutely loves it.

Loves to carry you on his back if you have to walk anywhere, you resting your chin or your cheek on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders.

Honestly so gentle, like he’s afraid of breaking you, you’re just so precious and cute and he doesn’t want to do anything that could ever even potentially hurt you.

Loves even more to carry you like a princess to bed, one arm around your back and his other under your knees, brushing his lips to yours.

Showering you with murmured praises, laying you down gently and kissing every inch of you, trailing his lips across your skin.

Just dying between your thighs while you come over and over again on his tongue.

Zoro

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, midget?”

“Midget” is a term of endearment…though he does use it to get on your nerves just a little because it’s cute seeing someone so small get so annoyed.

Like the top of your head barely comes up to his chin, seriously, what are you going to do about it?

Not being cruel by any means, just light teasing. Just enough to make your cheeks go a little red, to make you purse your lips and shove at him or punch at his arm.

You get too annoyed and he just wraps his hands around your waist and lowers his head down to kiss you, murmur against your lips that you’re just so sexy when you’re pissed off, and goddammit if you don’t forgive him every time.

Loves using you to help with his strength training, e.g. sitting cross-legged on his back while he’s doing push-ups.

Which usually results in him flipping you onto your back and fucking you senseless at some point.

Still counts as endurance training, so win-win.

Shanks

"Come on now, love. You're not short, you're just fun-sized!"

You are his babydoll and you must be protected at all costs. Doesn’t matter if you’re an adept fighter or not, you must be protected at all costs.

You’re just so tiny and fragile and adorable, he literally has no choice.

And he absolutely loves it.

Coming up behind you and resting his chin or his cheek over the crown of your hair, pulling you back against him by your waist because you just fit against him so perfectly.

Or stooping down when you least expect it to catch you around the middle and just carry you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, chuckling at your protest the whole time.

The sight of you straddling him makes him completely feral—your thighs wrapped around him, your hips rolling, your slight form on full display for him to drink in.

Gritting his teeth while you grind against his cock, clenching his hand around your hip to pull you up…and then right back down, groaning as you slowly sink down onto him, slowly filling you inch by inch.

Struggling the entire time to hold himself back, to let you set the pace, you’re so much smaller than him and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but it’s oh so hard no to just seize you by the waist and pound into you.

Loves when you lay across his chest in the serenity of the afterglow, with your head resting against his shoulder, running his fingers through your hair or resting his hand over your ass, brushing his lips to your forehead and your temple and your neck.

Will likely hold you there like that all night if you have no protest over it.

Mihawk

"You're pushing your luck, my little bird."

You brat him and he will literally pick you up and put you up on a high shelf somewhere that you can’t get down from and leave you there until you get your act together.

Probably just sip a glass of wine and smirk while you protest.

Has absolutely no issue using your size against you. It makes you seem all the more like a toy, his little plaything.

It’s something of a power rush, how easy it is to pin you down, how easily he can wrap one hand around both of your wrists and pin them over your head and refuse you the pleasure of touching him while he teases you to the brink of madness.

Pinning you to a wall, shoving his hand down your panties, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time while you beg for more.

It’s so, so easy to control you, to control your pleasure or deny it entirely while he revels in your whimpering and whining and pleading.

So easy to rip away your panties, pick you up by your thighs, pin you against a wall and thrust into you, rail you until you’re breathless and screaming his name.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, his eyes occasionally scanning down your slight form before locking back onto your gaze again.

So easy to carry you to bed after, to revel in your limp and trembling form pressed against his side with your arm across his chest and his tucked under your neck and curled around your back to hold you against him and comb his fingers through your hair.

#opla #one piece #mihawk #shanks #sanji #zoro #opla mihawk #opla shanks #opla sanji #opla zoro #headcanons #one piece headcanons #smut #fluff

[therhythmafterthesummer]

I'm the anon who sent the ask about Pack Mum and her frustrations; your version is fucking top notch (I'm just a switchy bitch lol) and let's be real, don't we all need a bit of that in our lives? 😩😩😩 would love to see Chris' version of that too, whatever you write is going to be amazing either way 😍

previous ask for reference

fun fact, i have a handful of drabbles written for these two that have never left my google docs (some of them probably won't, ever), since i use them as practice. for this particular scenario i already had something written, so might as well share it with y'all. please bear with me, this is barely proof read sjkdfhsdkjf

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you don’t really need to read any other instalments to understand/enjoy this one). | Word Count: ~2k. | Warnings: smut | established relationship · pet names · oral [F.&M.Rec] · edging · face sitting/fucking, all that good stuff · spanking

minors do not interact.

> Chris💕🐺: pretty baby  > howre u feeling today > ???

< You: hey darling < i’m very meh < but still standing so it’s fine < you? 

> Chris💕🐺: im having a really bad day > dont wanna get into details but god i just wanna be home

< You: oh no ): < can i help you in any way?

You saw the ‘Typing…’ text under Chris’ contact name pop up and disappear a few times before he finally replied.

> Chris💕🐺: actually… > maybe > u can say no btw > but > would u sit on my face and let me edge you for a long while when im back home?

< You: how long is a long while?

> Chris💕🐺: a really long while > as much as u can stand it > just wanna dive between ur legs > want to suffocate on your cunt and your thighs baby > so bad > fuck > had to come to hide in the restroom for a bit cuz im so hard rn just thinking about it

You couldn’t help but chuckle. But being honest with yourself, the proposition certainly gave you a similar reaction to Chris’. All you could think about now was having your boyfriend’s tongue between your legs, aided by his lips and his nose to bring you to that sweet, sweet edge over and over again…

Wetness was starting to pool at your centre, your thighs pressed together to ease some of that familiar ache, and you honestly had to make the conscious effort to remember you were still at the office, in a very public space.

Your phone vibrating again in your hand brought you back from your little day dream.

> Chris💕🐺: again > u can totally say no

< You: mmm🤔 < i’d love to sit on my alpha’s handsome face < would you let me grind on it baby?

> Chris💕🐺: fuck… yes > anything as long as u just dont come > not until i tell you to > or until u cant take it anymore > yeah? 

< You: yea 😇

> Chris💕🐺: fuck > ure so good to me pretty > seriously > im gonna make u feel so good love > hydrate yourself as much as u can > its gonna be so worth it > love u prettiest

< You: love you babiest

The rest of your workday was honestly a blur. All you could think about was the evening that awaited you. So, when you finally reached home–with your boyfriend nowhere in sight–you simply took a quick shower to get squeaky clean and got yourself into one of his t-shirts to ensure his scent was all over you when he came home.

As soon as Chris made it through the front door he gave you a quick kiss, dropped his belongings wherever, and made a beeline to the bathroom to take a shower–all as he discarded pieces of clothing on the way. A very delightful sight, you’d admit.

Now here you were, laying on the sofa and scrolling on your phone, waiting for him to come out.

The second he’d gotten out of the shower, barely even patting himself dry, with his hair still wet, Chris made his way to you.

Before you could even stand up, he was already hovering over you, kissing you deeply for a moment, only to finally trace a path of kisses to your neck so he could nibble at your pulsepoint.

“Been thinking about you all day, pretty baby”, he mumbled against your skin, licking the area and kissing it after. 

“Me too, darling…” A sigh of relief passed your lips, while you all but melted under the attention your boyfriend was providing to your neck. “You got me so wet”, taking a hold of his hand, you guided it to your core, where his fingers traced your folds, spreading your essence with a deep inhale. “So fucking wet just thinking about you, Chris”. 

“Fuck…You smell so fucking good…” Burying his face further in the crook of your neck, he sucked on your pulse point, just as he eased two fingers into you, making you moan in surprise as he diligently massaged your walls. 

You bared your neck, giving your boyfriend plenty of room for him to paint purple roses on your skin. Holding tightly onto his arms, you couldn’t help but squirm a little when he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you, once he started curling them to hit that sweet spot within your warmth.

“So tight, baby…” Chris mumbled as he eased a third finger into you, making you whine at the delicious stretch. “We don’t fuck for a couple of days and it’s almost like your cunt has forgotten me…” 

You shook your head, swallowing the saliva that had pooled in your mouth. “Impossible. She–she knows who she belongs to”.

“Fuck…” Pulling his fingers out of you, he straightened himself. “Come here, beautiful”.

Chris laid down, motioning for you to place each knee next to his head. You did as asked, staring at him between your legs as you lowered yourself, hovering just a bit while he caressed your thighs. 

“C’mon, baby”, Chris borderline whined, bringing his hands to your hips and holding you tightly. “Sit”. 

“I’m…baby, I don’t wanna crush you”.

This was a common debate when you found yourselves in this situation. Sometimes you didn’t even need to think twice about complying, but, as a heavier person, other times you were a bit unsure. Today was one of those days, clearly. And as usual, your boyfriend was quick to reassure you.

“Babe, we’ve been through this. I’m a fucking animal, remember? All that werewolf thing? You’re not gonna crush me”, he chuckled. “Sit on me, get comfy, and brace yourself, yeah?” 

With a deep inhale, you nodded, finally lowering yourself all the way. You couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your mouth as soon as you felt Chris’ tongue make contact with your heat. “Oh–”

His tongue running through your folds, teasing your entrance, licking your clit, sucking on it…Every single one of his motions had tingles of pleasure travelling up and down your spine, had your chest heaving, and quiet whines coming out of your mouth.

Bringing his hands to your thighs, he held you tightly in place, so tight you wondered if you’d see a mark left in the shape of his fingers later–something you were admittedly eager to see. He was groaning a lot, you were moaning a lot, and, in no time, he had reduced you to a whimpering mess.

Maybe it was all that daydreaming you’d been doing after he sent you those texts, maybe it was just how good your boyfriend was at working you up, but you were very quickly getting close to the edge, almost ready to tip over it.

“Baby…Chris, fuck, I’m…close”, your voice quivered a bit, and Chris simply hummed in response, finally slowing his movements. 

His hands roamed your body as his tongue flicked your sensitive nub, the pressure was light enough that the signs of your approaching orgasm seemed to be fading away. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were going to stand this at all. You’d try, of course, but you realised very quickly how badly you wanted your relief.

Kneading your breasts, Chris simply continued his motions, slowly licking your clit, or dipping his tongue inside of you for a taste. You couldn’t help but roll your hips, trying to get some extra stimulation. And whenever he licked at your entrance, his nose would bump your clit, and it had you pathetically whining as you ground your core on his face. 

When Chris finally opened his eyes to look at you, you stared right back. 

That stare-off had the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and you were immediately trapped in that undeniably predator look of his.

It was kind of amusing, how that look seemed to have the complete opposite effect it should have on you. It should’ve made you feel intimidated, scared, but after spending this much time with Chris, after giving yourself to him so many times already, the trust you had in him made it so that stare of his just made you want to be closer to him. It enticed you, it made you shiver, made you wetter, and, right now, just by looking at him, at that utterly primal desire in his eyes, you could feel yourself grow closer to your climax again.

You genuinely couldn’t tell how long you spent right there. You had already lost count of how many times he’d brought you to the edge by the fifth time. Your legs were starting to burn, your lower back hurt, and you suddenly felt like you needed something in your mouth. 

“C–Chris”, you tugged on his hair, gasping when he quickened the pace of his tongue. “Baby… Want–”

He squeezed your bum, one butcheek in each hand, surely bruising you with the strength of his grip. It made you dizzy, and you were sure you were dripping all over him by now. He released his hold on one of your buttocks, only to land a harsh smack on it after, urging you to speak, making you shamelessly moan with the action. 

Chris hardly ever spanked you–aside from a playful, mild smack here and there. He’d told you before that he felt like he already put your body through so much with everything else, adding that, too, was just unnecessary, and that it could possibly hurt you too much. But, fuck, if the sting felt good whenever he did.

“Need your cock, baby”, you finally sighed, trembling with your upcoming release. Chris gave you a curious look, not stopping his tongue for a second, so you decided to clarify. “In my mouth, Chris. Please…”

Taking a hold of your hips, he lifted you up a bit, enough to talk. “Turn around, pretty”.

Your legs were incredibly unsteady, but you managed to do it, finally laying on Chris with his tongue once again in its rightful place within your warmth. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sight of your boyfriend’s cock. Incredibly hard, twitching, and with an impressive pool of pre-cum under his tip where it laid on his lower abdomen. He was clearly enjoying this a lot, and just the sight had you clenching with need..

When you took him in your hand, his thighs jerked a bit, and a moan muffled against your skin as he continued to feast on your cunt. You simply pumped him in your hand, once, twice, relishing just how hard he was. 

Wasting no more time, you licked a long stripe from his base to the tip, swirling your tongue around it for good measure. Until, finally, you took him in your mouth, eliciting a shared moan from the both of you. 

Chris’ hands dragged up and down your back, kneading your flesh as he went, moaning against your heat whenever you got him deeper into your mouth, whenever your nails dug on his thighs. 

All of a sudden, you felt Chris’ hand land harshly on one of your buttocks. The sudden sting made you moan around his length and clench around thin air. He did it again on the other, holding the supple flesh of your bum tightly in his hands right after in an attempt to soothe your skin. 

His length popped out of your mouth with a sinful sucking sound. With a hazy mind and a needy cunt, you were speaking before you could think twice about it. “More…”

Chris immediately complied, smacking one of your buttcheeks again, groaning lowly as your moans spilled freely out in the room without his cock in your mouth.

He repeated the motions a handful of times, all while you jerked him to the best of your now compromised motor skills. Your moans got increasingly more desperate the more he spanked you, and your whole body trembled with arousal.

“Pretty…” Chris mumbled, keeping you off of him enough so you could hear him, although you barely could, you were too far gone. “Put my cock back in your mouth, baby. Suck me off, and when I spank you again, you can come. Okay?” 

“Okay…”

“Good, good girl”, Chris pulled you back on his mouth, eliciting a shaky moan from your lips. 

You did as asked, taking him once again into your mouth and sucking him, rather eagerly, if you might add. Your lips caught on the ridge of his head time and time again, his tongue and his lips focused on your clit, licking and sucking harder and faster by the second, just how he did whenever he wanted you to come, and when you finally felt the sting on your ass again, you could hardly make sense of your surroundings anymore.

Before you knew it, your entire body shook with your release, desperately moaning around Chris’ length as pleasure tears fell from your eyes. It was so much, so intense, and when Chris held the back of your head in place with one of his hands and started to thrust up into your mouth you were sure you had already died and gone to heaven.

It felt like you were coming for an eternity, the sheer intensity of your release had you shaking and squirming in your boyfriend’s hold. The most satisfying part of it all, though, was when you vaguely registered Chris’ warmth flooding your mouth, making you moan once again just at the feel of his cum going down your throat, making you dizzy just by the blissed-out sounds that were coming out of his mouth. 

You swallowed it all, sucking on his tip until the very last drop of his release had coated your tongue, and as soon as Chris detached himself from your core, your body slumped, your vision clouded, and a ringing broke free in your ears.

“Baby? Baby, please. Talk to me”, Chris sounded so close. But how could he if your heads were in completely opposite directions?

“Pretty?” You felt his hands on your cheeks, and once you opened your eyes and saw the worried look on his face, you realised you were laying on the sofa, while he was crouching on the floor next to you. When did he move? He was just below you a few seconds ago. 

“Did I…Did I pass out?” You blinked at him, reaching for his hand on your face to softly caress the back of it. 

“Fuck, you did. For a few seconds. I thought I had choked you to death. Are you okay? I’m so sorry”, he was going into his Protective Alpha mode, and it made you smile. 

“I’m fine, baby. Don’t apologise. Give me a kiss”, you did feel a bit lightheaded, but you also felt light all over, as if your crushing orgasm had taken all the tension off of your body completely.

Chris sighed, pecking your lips, your nose, your cheeks, all over your face. “Fuck, give me a second. I’ll bring you some water”. 

You simply hummed, stretching your achy limbs and turning on your other side to face the backrest.

When Chris came back, you gulped the glass of water in one go before you gave it back to him so he could place it on the coffee table. 

You made grabby hands at him, and he chuckled, laying behind you and pulling you to his chest so he could press kisses on your shoulder.

“That was insane”, you mumbled while you caressed the arm he had wrapped around your waist. 

“It was, fuck…I got too carried away, you’re all bruised, love”, his fingers gently traced the curve of your bum, and you leaned into his touch. 

“Felt so good, though”, you sighed, content, further pressing your back to his chest. “So good I passed out, baby. That’s a new record”. 

Chris giggled, and you couldn’t help but giggle as well. 

“Do you feel better?” You asked, snuggling closer, relishing his warmth on your back, his warmth all around you.

“I feel like I won a million euros, a billion dollars, a trillion won…You get the point”, Chris nuzzled your nape, pressing lingering kisses there, all as he brought a hand to your belly to lightly squish your soft flesh. “Honestly just what I needed. For my pretty girlfriend to feel insanely good, and to blow my load in her perfect, warm mouth”.

You chuckled, taking a hold of his hand and bringing it to your lips so you could press a kiss on his palm, right before you turned around in his hold and cupped his cheeks, smiling at him. “I love you”. 

“Love you”, he repeated immediately, diving in for a kiss. When he pulled back, he held you tightly, pressing kisses on your cheeks. “You’re so good to me”.

“And you to me, baby”, you mumbled back, kissing him on the cheek before you tucked your head under his chin.

You both laid there for a moment, a moment of just your soft caresses on each other’s exposed skin. Until Chris heaved a satisfied sigh, pulling away from your embrace to stand up from the sofa.

“C’mon, pretty. Time to be pampered and cuddle in the tub”, Chris took you in his arms. A soft chuckle left your lips, and you held onto him, pressing tender kisses on his neck all the way to the bathroom.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

figured i’d tag anyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know !

@222wonnie · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha · @viviixlyy · @casualenthusiastexpert · @kileidoscope · @kpop-bbdoll · @crispytigerearthquake · @meloncremesoda · @amaranth-writing · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏ #ask #anon #wereroomies ask #wereroomies headcanons

[ahegato]

Hey ahegato! I hope you are well :) I've just discovered your account and I love your posts (especially the fill you up post and how they act around children which was so cute!!). I was wondering whether you could write about how the brothers and mains are like when its their first time with a female MC who had been a virgin?

I can't wait to read more of your posts!

author note: Oh my gosh, my first request, I’m so nervous and excited!! Pretty fitting that my first request is about something being the first time. I’m sooo sorry that it’s so late, I’ve been balls deep in other fandoms

SUPER IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: so I decided to do it like this, and I might keep doing that with all requests I receive: I’ll write for the characters requested, BUT I won’t post them all at the same time, or else you guys are gonna have to wait for like 84 years to get the finished product 😭

So instead I’ll post them all individually (UNLESS the headcanons are very short and don’t include fics) and just link the other ones in it when they get finished. that way you guys still get some kind of content every now and then!

[NSFW] Obey Me - fem!MC first time with Mammon

m.list

TW: nsfw, first time sex, loss of virginity, swearing Characters: Mammoney Writer: ahegato

Context:  The MC would probably be pretty nervous since it’s the first time and stuff like that. Idk I lost my virginity when I was like 17 and now I’m really old, so I barely remember it. I just recall worrying about the pain while also knowing it was common, that’s about it lol

You/your pronouns, so basically gender neutral, bUT MC will have female bits.

Anyway, have an awesome day (that’s an order) and I hope you enjoy it!

lucifer (cumming soon) | mammon (ur here) | leviathan (cumming soon) | satan (cumming soon) | asmodeus (cumming soon) | beelzebub (cumming soon) | belphegor (cumming soon) | diavolo (cumming soon) | barbatos (cumming soon) | simeon (cumming soon) | solomon (cumming soon)

MAMMON:

turns out that “bad boy mammon” is actually super romantic

huh who knew? literally everyone in the whole devildom

if you weren’t aware of how much of a softie he is, you clearly missed him in the entire story

when he finds out you’re a virgin, he gets a little excited

he’s really going to be your first man, huh?

mammon is incredibly nervous about your first time together

but instead of freezing up and not daring to do anything *cough* levi *cough*, he instead just gets reallllllly sensitive to touch

give him a handjob or oral, he’ll tremble and moan like a pornstar

really just kiss him and he won’t know what to do with himself

he wants you to be in control of the pace to be extra safe, so he’ll ask you to be on top

also because it’s hot, but he won’t tell you that (you’ll figure it out eventually anyway)

you start with both of you sitting up and you on his lap

will at some point take one of your hands and refuse to let go

if you cry from the pain, he’ll instantly go into comfort mode

wrapping his arms around you and stroke your back, telling you that you’re doing great and to just wait for a bit longer

he gets extremely lovey dovey and emotional when he’s about to finish, it’s so obvious that he wouldn’t even have to say anything for you to notice, but he still will

even after finishing, he won’t let go of you

doesn’t matter if you’re all sticky from the sweat, you’re his and he’s yours now

might as well be glued together, because he sure is acting like that’s the case

he feels very embarrassed afterwards because he’s not used to being so vulnerable, so pls reassure him

As you finally sink down onto him, he lets out a long, breathy, high-pitched moan. His nails are pressing into your waist, not so hard to draw blood but enough to turn you on even more. The way you’re squeezing him while sitting on his lap, your hands on his shoulders to support yourself, is addictive. But despite that, what’s taking up the most space in his mind is the love he’s feeling for you, as cheesy as it sounds, and the intimate moment you’re experiencing together. He almost gets a little teary at the thought. However, he gets snapped out of it when you begin to move, lifting yourself off of him before sinking back down again, and he lets out a surprised groan. He looks down between your bodies, watching as his cock disappears into you, moaning at the sight. His hands on your waist travel down to your hips, assisting you in your movements. He never wants to let go of you, and he pulls you closer, leaning over to breathe in your scent, causing his dick to twitch inside of you. Mammon has no shame at this point, he’ll bare his neck for you to bite and suck on. If you don’t get the point he’ll literally beg for it, and if he walks out of there without even a single mark, he’ll whine like a baby. He wants physical proof that he’s yours and you’re his. If you let him mark you, he’ll moan long and high-pitched as he does it. If you mark him, he’s legit whimpering and twitching underneath you. He’s drowning in you, kissing any part of your body that he can reach, meeting your movements with his own, and sometimes just gazing at you with a look of pure love. “MC I... I love you... I love you so much...” he huffs, pulling you as close to him as possible. He looks you in the eyes, mere inches away from each other. “I...I’m about to cum...” As he finally gets pushed over the edge, he sinks you down onto his cock as far as he can, holding onto you tightly as he whimpers words of affection in your ear. Once he’s down from his high, the memories of what he said and did return to his brain, and he gets super flustered. “I-I did not just say all that, ya hear me? Don’t tell anyone!” he stutters, suddenly all worried about this so-called reputation. “Of course I won’t tell anyone! But you did say all that, and I loved it.” you reply with a smile. “Y-you did?” the demon asks, looking back at you with a surprised expression on his face. “Of course I did! I loved seeing this side of you, and I love you.” The blush on his cheeks intensifies, but the demon visibly relaxes, a smile forming on his face in return. He cuddles up to you, fully intending to hold you hostage in his bed for the rest of the night.

✦ 30/11/2023 (Im so sorry lmao) - 16/04/2024 ✦ ahegato ✦

#headcanons #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon x reader #mammon #smut #mammon smut #mammoney #obey me #obey me shall we date

[chimielie]

“Did you ever keep a diary as a kid?” You want to know, rifling through Tadashi’s nightstand to find the book you’d left last time you slept over.

“I mean, I had them,” he says, response slow like he’s trying to remember. “I wasn’t really good at keeping up with it, though. I think I had like five at one point that all had only two or three entries. I just didn’t want to ruin that nice new notebook, you know?”

“Yeah,” you say thoughtfully, pulling out the tome you were looking for with an expression of triumph. “I don’t think I ever managed to do it consistently until like, last year.”

“That’s better than most people,” he shrugs, hauling you back by your hips next to him on the bed, where you settle your head on his shoulder, enjoying his clean, fresh-detergent smell and light touch. “What do you journal about?”

“Kind of whatever,” you shrug. “Mostly what I did that day as a memory exercise. I like going back and rereading stuff from the beginning of our relationship sometimes.”

“You wrote about me?” His voice is soft, shy. You pat his cheek.

“Yeah, definitely,” you laugh, “I think I went home and wrote poetry about you two dates in or something. Yeugh.”

Tadashi looks up at you, and it’s almost alarming how fast the blood rushes to your cheeks. “You’ve written poetry about me?”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you say, all your breath caught in your chest. “Oh, my God, you did not hear that.”

“No,” a slow smile spreads over his face, putting dimples in his freckled cheeks. You lean back a little as he leans forward, showing you the little gap between his two shiny white front teeth. “I did, actually. And as your muse, I have a right to read it.”

“Nooo,” you moan, sliding from your seat on the bed until you’re staring up at the ceiling and your bent knees are holding you in a bridge position. “It’s not even, like—I barely knew you and I think I was kind of tipsy, when I wrote it, I mean—I’ve written much better poetry about you since then—fuck!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. He’s crawling over you, crowding you until you’re comfortably laying on the bed, arms up by your ears and deceivingly sadistic sweetheart of a boyfriend hovering over you, his body burning you everywhere he touches.

“I wanna see it,” he says, voice quiet and teasing. “Pretty please? With a strawberry on top?”

You can’t even look away from him, batting his lashes, trying to charm you into giving him what he wants. He’s got a little victorious spark in his eyes, like he already knows he’s won. How are you supposed to say no?

#shorts! #It Happened To Me And It Can Happen To You Too: Local Boyfriend Finds Out You Like Him #Like Like-Like Him #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #tadashi yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi fluff #haikyuu!! x reader fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq x reader fluff #yamaguchi tadashi x reader fluff #yamaguchi x reader fluff

[charmingpplincardigans]

How’s everyone doing? I’ll go first, I’m bad!

I have been ~*~struggling~*~ since mid-September and in the last two weeks it has just gotten unbearable. I feel like I’m drowning all the time. I’m having trouble keeping up with and reaching out to people I want to talk to. And that’s like, on top of always having been bad at getting back to people. *stares forlornly at the ask Chaz sent me like, literally two years ago that I think about daily but just. haven’t. RESPONDED TO.*

Things are just. Closing in on all sides unfortunately. I’ve been sick several times. I bounced this month’s rent check. A thing I had NEVER DONE BEFORE IN MY LIFE before this last move. My job is literally never going to pay me what I’m worth. Or anyone what they’re worth, frankly. I broke down in front of my boss the other day and just sobbed for an hour because after I pay my bills every paycheck I have just enough left over to buy groceries for two weeks, if I’m careful, and little else. Which means I’m putting stuff like gas on credit cards, which isn’t helping the debt that makes me feel like drowning in the first place.  I’ve been at this job SEVENTEEN YEARS. A steady, corporate job. And I’ve never once in my entire time there made an actual cost of living raise!! The cost of living just keeps raising without me! (And also everyone else, I know!)

I’m super overdue on getting people the art they commissioned from me, but my brain just hasn’t been in a good enough place to create much of anything, and I keep thinking I have to get this done and then thinking they deserve better than this, around and around on a loop ad finitum. And there are a couple of other things going on personally that just fucking blow that I don’t know how to fix and I’m just gonna choke on it.

I haven’t done any fandom stuff since NYCC. I haven’t written on my WIP. I haven’t read fic. I don’t check in on the madness happening on twitter. I’ve barely popped my head into my favorite pirate group chat over the last five months or so. I miss doing all of that so much and my stupid brain is so broken that even when I try I can’t enjoy it.

Shit. I’m having a hard time getting work work done. I just sit down at my desk every day, answer emails, and then spend five or so hours frozen with anxiety because there’s too much to do and doing nothing is only making it worse every day.

I need to be back in therapy ASAP, but unfortunately you can’t eat therapy so I can’t pay for it!!

And I feel guilty saying any of this to almost everyone I would usually talk to. (Congrats and condolences to the rest of you!) Because they’re having a harder time than me. Or because they’d just want to give me a bit of money about it, which would fuck me up even more. Or because it’s just tedious and boring and no one wants to listen to me talk about this over and over again, even though it’s all my brain does every hour of every day. It’s a wonder I’m ever able to talk about anything else.

My boss is pretty great, in spite of it all. She’s constantly supportive (to the extent she can be), and she just. She tells me all the time how creative and wonderful and smart and cool to know I am. And every time I just like, tear up, because none of it feels true. But I also tear up when my friends and my partner say those things too. Because to me, a full grown adult without a savings or a 401K or the ability to like, go get drinks just because I want to, I feel like a complete and utter failure.  So like. Whatever I guess!!

I need to find a new job that pays me way more. Then I can get a therapist to fix my brain and save money to pay down my debts and have money to have fun with my friends and not feel like a constant financial burden on everyone. Then I can have the brain power back to maybe work on my fic or complete that art or like, I don’t know, talk to the people who actively want to talk to me. You wouldn't think that part would be so hard, but it really, really is.

I’m working on it. I’ll keep working on it. I have LinkedIn open right now. I’m gonna fucking sob through it, but that doesn’t mean none of it will get done.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good way to make a quick $30 grand, I’m all ears.

#no one cares kl #it's an old-fashioned two am post #at four in the afternoon! #that's how bad things are! #all my shame units are being used so i don't have any to spare #on whether or not i should be messy in public!!!

[xacutesblogs]

Authors note: Hey guys i’m back again with another story, this story is for mature audience only, i would recommend you to be 18+ but read at your own risk, this story was very fun to write! and ignore any grammar errors, still not my type of content but i’m getting more comfortable with it! leave some comments done below on more characters you’d like me to write about, even pick a background and storyline! haha anyways -enjoy

⚠️Disclaimer this story is for 18+⚠️

⛔️Read at your own risk ⛔️

gojo busted in your room, panting and sweating. You jumped up from being startle by him, “gojo what the hell?” you said looking at him curiously. “Y/n ” he said, you gave him an awkward worried look, “what are you doing here?” he slowly closed your door, “y/n i just need to talk” he said. You and gojo (your stepbrother) wasn’t very close but for some reason you always had a crush on him, and he was dating Utahime, and although he’s your stepbrother he haven’t been that long, he’s been it for about 6 months, but yet you still never really got to know him.

You stood up from you bed, “okay but make it fast, i have stuff to do.” he took a deep breath and inhaled in and exhaled out, “y/n i broke up with her” he said, you didn’t know how to feel, because it was just so sudden and you were happy, but knew you stood no chance with him, i mean he barely acknowledge you, so why would you think he’d like someone like you? you broke the silence and said “why are you telling me?” he stared at you like he wanted to tell you something, but he didn’t, he just turned around and walked out.

Alone in your room in confusion, you flopped down and sat on your bed, thinking to yourself if you should have done something different, said something different, asked him why he broke up with her, maybe even comfort him, you didn’t know what or how to feel, was the feeling regret? you placed your palms in your face burying your face in them. But then suddenly gojo came back in crashing and shutting your room door behind him, and you jumped up.

“Gojo i-“ you would say, but he’d cut you off by pressing his lips on to yours, you were in shock because what the fuck just happened? but you didn’t back away, you didn’t move, in fact you returned the kiss, actually you did more than that you made out with him, but it finally broke, and not because of you, but because of him. “Y/n i broke up with her because of you?” you gave him a confused look waiting for another response from him

“I know it’s crazy, but ever since me and my dad moved in here, it’s just.. i can’t stop thinking about you” he said you was stunned and couldn’t believe what he said, a word wouldn’t come out your mouth not because you didn’t want it to, but just because your body was in shock from his words, he gently shook you “hey, y/n say something” you blinked and smiled at him “I feel the same way gojo” he smiled back at you and picked you up and, and you guys started making out again, he would slightly lay you down on the bed, now being on top of you.

His dick was rubbing against your pussy while you both still had your lips in locked, at this time he was grinding his hips against your pussy and the friction was turning you on, so of course you started to get wet down there, and him.. well you felt something poking at you, you would release yourself from the kiss. “i want you to fuck me” you said, you were horny and when you’re horny you just don’t think and you said what you said. he smirked at you and pecked your lips and lifted back up, “get on all fours and turn around” he would say, and you did as told.

You got up and got on your knees by still being on the bed, gojo would slide your shorts and panties down and add a slap across your cheek, he would force you down into a arch position, he’d get a view of your ass tooted up, while glazing his eyes at your pussy, you’d turn your head around peeping out at him to give him a seductive stare, he’d smirk at you, and remove his pants and boxers, his dick was now standing out, it was long and thick, and you now knew you were in trouble.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time i seen you” he said, you smiled at him and turned your head back around burying your face in your pillow, you would feel gojo place his hands on your sides, as well as feeling his dick rub against your pussy, “wow, you’re so wet” he said. since your pussy was already dripping it made your pussy entrance easier for him to get his dick in, his dick would finally reach inside you, and the feeling was out of this world, moans would escape from your mouth at each thrust he did inside you, he would hit your womb, and g-spot leaving you star struck.

“shh, you don’t want our parents to hear you,” he said, and you placed your face in your pillow so your moans could be secret, i mean it wouldn’t be good for your mother to hear you, it wouldn’t be good at all, but his dick, the way he was moving, it was just too perfect, it felt so good. And you couldn’t help but to moan, he’d pull you by your hair which made your head flop back he’d take his other hand and place it across you mouth covering your lips.

“didn’t i say be quiet” he said while thrusting even harder, you would stare in his eyes, while your sounds would only now be muffled, due to him covering your face, he would only begin to fuck you harder and harder, and this last thrust he did ended it all for you, you would finally reach your orgasm, breathing and panting heavy, but no he wasn’t done, he would speed up his movements, and he would let out all his semen right inside you. Gojo backed away and flopped down on the bed laying beside you, and you would fall flat on your stomach laying down, while still having his cum dripping in your pussy.

“Wow, that was” he said while catching his breath, you would smile at him and say “amazing? beyond? the best?” you would say he’d chuckle and reply back “yeah, exactly” you gazed in his eyes, “you came in me so much” you said while taking your fingers rubbing it across your pussy and catching the cum with your two fingers before holding it up “yeah, it was just too good” he’d say, you’d lick your fingers and reply back “i think i may need a plan b” he lifted up and pulled you towards him“i think we should have a round 2first” you gave him a devilish look, and round 2 took place.

#foryou #reading #anime #anime x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #reader x character #gojo smut #anime smut #smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #for you #gojo fluff #chubby reader #chubbiness #anime x y/n #anime x chubby reader #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.�� He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

#jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge #sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter x reader #my fic #no use of y/n

[isanaakira]

Guys Ive been so busy with school and life I've barely had time to actually sit down and enjoy TV or a movie and it's disheartening to be honest.

I have however been reading Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. When I tell you I am obsessed, I am obsessed. I have been reading it slowly to enjoy it since I read it on my way to school. So I just read a few pages here and there just so I can have something to read for a good while. It is soooo good though. I finished book one and I'm on book two chapter 2 currently.

Something that I enjoy is reading the descriptions of the characters and they literally match the cast of the movies. I was like damn they did so fucking good in that part and I love it. Imma be honest as well, I think they did good in capturing the books story in the movie. Apart from being a book enthusiast I also like watching movies. I don't go heavily into them like I want sometimes or like others (absolutely no hate because your guys breakdowns help me love something even more) but I do enjoy the storyline of the movies. It makes sense they did it that way because something I think many people forget is that not everyone reads the books or likes to read. So sometimes they have to do things a certain way to not only appeal to the book readers but the audience that has not read the books. On top of that budgets and stuff. And sometimes writers sometimes just like to write a whole new idea based off a book which is kinda how we like to make fan art and fan fic. Don't get me wrong, yeah it would be so fucking great to have it exactly like the books, but I also appreciate the story telling of the movies.

I'm sorry if I kind of got side tracked. It's just I sometimes get the movie watchers perspective cuz my family doesn't like to read, but they love a ton of movies based on books. So maybe I'm biased 🤷.

But besides that, I am going to continue reading these books for the first time and enjoying the heck out of them. Apart from Lord of the Rings I'm also reading Percy Jackson and currently looking to read something else.

Anyways, stay safe out there. Have a good day 😁 and enjoy your hobbies. Love y'all.

#lotr #movies #books #lord of the rings #the hobbit #percy jackson #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #merry and pippin #gandalf #aragorn

[ystrike1]

Heroine wa Zetsubou Shimashita - By Chida Daisuke (9/10)

An evil yandere. What does that mean? Long, convoluted speeches? Knives? A scary face? I don't think so. If you want to read about a really scary yandere they have to be unlikable. The actual concept that contains this yandere is perfect. It's the perfect vessel for torture. He's a gamer that gets to play with the girl he loves.

This entire story is told from the girl's perspective. You cannot escape from her pain, suffering and discomfort. You have to pity her. You can't just watch the yandere and enjoy the drama. The stakes are too high, and too much bad shit happens to an ordinary girl.

Mei is cute. She's pretty popular. She has a loving family and friends. She's not into gaming. When a strange bejeweled accessory appears in her bag she doesn't know what it is. It's an in game item that characters in the game Dresty use. Dresty is a "cute girl game". Cute girls in frilly skirts fight zombie teddy bears and stuff. When you pass more levels you get more dresses for your Dresty girl.

When Mei is dragged into the game world she has no clue what's going on. She's in a tutorial room. She doesn't know that the cardboard box in the corner has a dress in it. One that will boost her physical power. She dies four times in incredible pain. The game just feels like a nightmare for her.

She struggles with suicidal thoughts. It's normal. She knows the agony is real. She wakes up okay every time, but sometimes the torture lasts hours.

She meets her classmate Akiba, and he gets dragged in with her. The beginning of their relationship is so wholesome. Akiba doesn't get angry. They work together. Akiba finds the dress, and he gives it to her.

Plot twist. Mei cannot move with the dress on. Akiba has to move her, with a controller. Mei trusts him. They want to survive together. They work together, and when they win they high five like excited kids.

Mei moves on with her daily life.

Big mistake. Akiba is now madly in love with Mei. When their hands touched he assumed that was the start of their romance. She even gave him her number. She thought they were acquaintances. She thought he was a nice guy. She thought they would become friends over time.

Then the compact activates again. The game isn't over. The bear was just a tutorial.

Mei has to beg for his help. She literally cannot save herself. She needs a partner. She tries to find another Dresty partner...but reality bites. The other players are too scared to help her. The other male players are just as perverted as Akiba. Additionally, Akiba is a top player. He is a huge advantage . Playing with him will probably keep her alive. She rejects him, because they barely know each other. Then he gaslights her and he makes her do perverted tricks for him.

The main game begins. It's a death tournament with other player duos. Most of the girls in dresses are miserable and in tears during battle.

Akiba is just excited to collect more cute dresses for Mei.

No,I don't think Akiba's love is genuine. He gets off on controlling Mei. They have nothing in common. Akiba is a lower because he's not very likable. He is incredibly obsessive though. Playing with Mei is very romantic, and sexual, for him.

Her opinion doesn't matter, and most scary yanderes are like that.

#Heroine wa Zetsubou Shimashita #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #manga review

[moodymisty]

Hi! I am a huge fan of your work and might have just binged all of your TBB fics in preparation for the season 2 premiere 🙈 during my indulgence I read through your kink list and the “helmet stays on” one really got me thinking how the batch (or any clone for that matter, I love them all so much) might use their helmets, maybe as a way to limit their partner’s senses (it seems like a fun combo between dom/sub and an armor kink)

Anyways, whether or not you use this prompt, I am always looking forward to your next fic!! Whatever you are willing to share with us I am more than happy to read 💕 Sorry for the anon, I’m still a little shy about being horny on main lol

Author's note: This has got to be one of the sweetest asks I've ever gotten, I'm so glad you enjoyed my stuff enough to binge it!! (also don't be shy about not wanting to be horny on main, there's no obligation to be. Anon is on for a reason)

But since you mentioned senses, of course the first person I think of is Hunter; And it's been a hot minute since I've done something for him so, why not? I hope this is up your alley!

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Pre-established relationship, Armor kink, Helmet kink aka "the helmet stays on", Very light Dom/Sub dynamics, Clothed sex, Semi-public sex(supply closet), Quickie, Some light sensory overload on Hunter's part

It wasn’t your idea to stay behind at Cyd’s, not in the slightest. The last mission had run you ragged, and so Hunter had effectively forced you to stay back for this one, and give some time to recover. But you still had to admit- The rest was an incredible luxury that you couldn’t refuse.

Though it had taken well over an hour of tossing and turning to get to sleep at first; You’d grown quite quickly used to the sounds of five other people’s breathing, Wrecker’s snoring, and Tech’s mumbling. Without the unique symphony of the Marauder as a lullaby, it had taken a bit to finally nod off.

When you woke up that first night, it was instantly noticeable how much better your body felt. To have a night without waking up multiple times because of shift changes, or emergencies, and to just actually let your body shut down and recover. But as the days went by that became less noticeable; And instead, a tense worry began to replace it.

It’s hard not to worry about them, especially now that you aren’t beside them. They’ve been barely footsteps from you for so long to have them all this far away for so long is eating at you. Especially Hunter. You miss him, miss the way he’d sometimes sneak into your bunk and lay with you for awhile before everyone else woke up. Or how he’ll sometimes walk behind you and press his face against the top of your head, sneaking a small moment while no one is looking.

At least working around Cyd’s keeps you somewhat busy, and she lets you keep a small portion of the tips in exchange for keeping the bar running smoothly. It’s something;

Especially considering the last time you all ran out of credits you had to sell Echo.

It’s late tonight; The bar is empty after the last patron drank his weight and stumbled out, falling onto the sidewalk before recovering enough to toddle on home. Now you’re just cleaning glasses, counting tips and trying to keep busy. It’s tedious, mindless work, but it keeps your hands and head busy enough.

Busy enough until Cyd suddenly shouts from the back, having apparently seen something of note on one of the security cameras.

“Hey! The Dream Team is back!” Cyd emerges from the backroom counting something in her hand, while she jerks her head in the direction of the front.

“Keep your man busy while I count my credits, will you?”

They enter through the front mere seconds after she finishes speaking, Wrecker holding the desired loot in both arms. He starts moving to drop it in Cyd’s room in the back, while you dart past him and yell:

“Hunter!”

You instantly run for him, until you reach him and suddenly stop; Trying to brush it off and just smile.

“Oh, so how come only he gets the welcome party!?”

Wrecker, halfway to the backroom scoffs and crosses his arms, before Echo starts pushing him and Tech away. You had turned around, looking at them embarrassed.

“Lets just give them a bit.”

Tech goes his own way, nose deep in his datapad while Wrecker, Echo, and Omega all shuffle into one of the bar’s booths. You stay close to Hunter however, standing with only a short distance between each of your chests still only a few steps from the entryway.

It’s well been established for awhile now that there is absolutely something going on between you and Hunter, but everyone has pretty much elected to act as if there isn’t. Or at least, that they can’t see it. You don’t do anything that would ever hint at you being romantic within sight of the others, but the looks you share and the undertones are so obvious that everyone had eventually realized.

The whole thing is, complicated. For far more reasons that just your current predicament.

Both of you finally move away from the entry, moving to sit on one of the bar stools. Hunter takes the one right next to you, sitting his helmet on the bar and turning your way.

“I’m sure you’re happy everyone managed to not get injured.” Hunter’s giving a tiny smirk, watching as you roll your eyes at him.

“I wasn’t upset you guys got hurt because it was inconvenient, I was upset because I don’t like seeing you guys get hurt.” You don’t like seeing any of them deal with pain, no matter how hard they all try and shrug it off. You’re just as guilty of the same, though as the person treating others, you’ll always have an excuse for why it doesn’t apply to yourself. You jerk a head in the direction of the booth that the rest of the batch is sitting at; Tech having returned from where ever and is now sitting next to Wrecker.

“At least for them. For you I don’t mind as much, because then I can kiss it better.” Hunter coughs, looking away for a moment and shaking his head. You can see the way his lips twitch as if he wants to say something, but can’t quite figure out how to put it.

“You…” He shakes his head, letting you see a small smirk. “Glad to hear I’ll be getting your special beside manner.”

Sometimes it catches him off guard some of the things you say, especially so casually.

In his moment of looking away from you, your eyes instead turn focus onto his helmet; Which is staring back at you from on the bar top, tinted visor reflecting the scene it’s staring at. When you reach a hand out to grab it Hunter watches, as you hold it hovering over your lap. It looks so normal and lifeless here, but there’s something about when it’s on, that it almost seems like it holds emotion; No matter how silly it sounds.

“I never noticed that you copied your tattoo on your helmet…”

You hold it in your hands, thumb brushing over the scuffed paint. The paint isn’t solid; Patches of the helmets original color peak through the brushed streaks of lighter grey. It gives his helmet a ghostly look, which suits him.

In fact, suits him very well.

It’s a complete spur of the moment decision that has you sliding off the barstool, and grabbing Hunter by the hand. He follows and while confused, takes your lead, walking through the bar and towards the back. Hopefully before anyone notices.

They do of course, but Echo is smart enough to keep anyone from questioning your antics.

Hunter watches as you pull him in the direction of the supply closet, closing the door and pushing something in front of it- a crate. It’s small and compact in here, but it’s quiet. And it’s private; Which is the main appeal.

And it’s here you take quick use of that, as the moment the door is fully shut you step towards Hunter and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours for but a moment.

“Now that we’re alone; Did everything go well, Sargent?”

Well you’re certainly playing with fire now, he knows that well.

“Everyone’s on one piece, and we got what we needed.” He knows that isn’t really what you’re asking, but it’s amusing to watch you look at him like this anyways. You know that if you want him you can just ask, but it’s far more fun to play around. Especially after them being gone for admittedly not all that long; But after being around him every moment, it feels like forever.

In his quick glance over you he can see you’re still holding his helmet in your hands, having carried it with you in your rush. It’s pressing against your chest, as you look down at it.

Hunter is watching you intently, the way your fingers look so gentle over his helmet. Before he can say anything however you lean up, and quickly plop the helmet on his head.

“You look good with it on.” His chest is pressing against your own, unyielding, unmovable plastoid armor against your skin. He hasn’t taken one bit of armor off since they returned, he hasn’t had the chance to. He can hear your heart pumping faster in your chest, wanton as you look up at him. His senses never lie, no matter how much you can try to hide it.

He’s used it to his advantage with you, but it’s almost proven to be his weakness. There’s been times where you’ve overwhelmed his senses so much that he can barely stand it; Both intentional and not. In theory he could cut it off if it ever felt like too much, but he doesn’t.

You know that part of him likes it, and the feeling of being so close but unable to fulfill his senses that drives him borderline insane.

You can feel his hands sliding down your back, moving to wrap around your hips as your thighs spread apart enough to let him in. Instantly he steps between them, pressing his body tight against yours. Once you’re as close as you can one of his hands comes up to palm your chest through your shirt, though he’s unable to free them due to the nature of your outfit. At least not easily, though part of him more than enjoys the way your push into him, silently pleading for more.

He won’t give it to you that easy, not after so many times you’ve done him in the same.

He feels your nipple harden through the fabric of his glove, while your pupils dilate and skin flushes hotter. One of your hands even moves to grasp at his wrist and press it harder onto you, as your breath leaves a fog on his armor.

“You don’t even know how much I’ve missed you, Hunter.”

He can smell you want him, even though his helmet it’s so obvious it overwhelms his senses.

When you attempt to work around your outfit and take off your top, Hunter stops you; And you look up to see your reflection in the tinted visor of his helmet.

“Turn around.”

There’s no way to describe the way your cunt clenches at the way he says those words, distorted by his helmet in a way that makes it sound even more erotic.

Lifting up off the crate you’d been sitting on your turn around, attempting to quickly undo your belt in the process and abandoning the idea of undoing your top. While doing so, you swear you can hear his breathing through his helmet, ragged and already coming undone. It only worsens as he sees your pants pull down and wrap around your knees, the fabric of your underwear contrasting with the color of your skin.

It almost is too much, the way he feels so hot and tight underneath his armor and his own breaths echo inside his helmet.

His fingers are frantic as he peels away the only thing impeding him, hearing his groinplate clank on the ground. He may want to take off more, but the sight of you whining for him keeps him from doing so.

He grinds his clothed cock against you, the clear outline pressing against your ass. You quickly demand more, aching and empty.

“Hunter, please… Come on.” He stills, and ignores the way you attempt to demand him continue.

“You don’t get to say that. Not after what you did on the Marauder.”

That makes you smile, remembering how much you had teased him until he snapped. You feel the way he finally moves the fabric of his body glove aside just enough to free his cock, feeling it lay against your cunt. He feels so hot it almost makes you jolt, body tighten as he grinds against you.

Only a short while later does he slowly attempt to press the tip of his cock inside of you, listening to the way you gasp. Your toes curl in your boots, and you can’t control the way you suddenly jolt when the cold plastoid of his thigh armor brushes against the bare skin of you ass. Hunter abruptly stops, having felt your body stiffen.

“You ok?” He asks when he feels you jolt and tighten around him, his hands around your hips loosening their grip.

“Yeah; Your armor is so cold…”

It feels good, but it was just a shock to have it suddenly against your skin. But now knowing he has the green light, he slowly pulls part way out of you before slowly thrusting forward and pulling your hips enough to meet him halfway.

The feeling of so many sounds echoing in his helmet has his senses on overdrive, not even considering how loud everything might be in the room itself. It isn’t as if you’re being particularly quiet; Moaning his name as he slams his cock into you. At least the door is made of metal, and it’s unlike any of quieter sounds will pierce it.

Apart from perhaps the shaky moan you let out as he presses against a bundle of nerves deep inside your cunt, enough to have you almost seeing stars.

“Shit,”

His helmets distorts his voice, making it seem almost more gritted, angrier than normal. It amplifies how tense he sounds, almost as much as his body as you feel his armor hit the back of your thighs as he fucks you.

But Gods do you want to turn around and kiss him, feel his skin on you so badly but he won’t let you; Depriving you of the sensation. Even if the unforgiving coldness of his armor feels so good too. It’s enough to have you speak up, hissing through your teeth for more.

“Fuck, Hunter… You can go harder…”

His fingers tighten around your hips, watching the way your top has bunched around the middle of your back.

“What, all the sudden you’re open to pleas of mercy?” Your throat tightens.

Of course now is the time he decides to get you back a bit for torturing his senses while stuck in the Marauder, and he’d pleaded for you to stop. You hadn’t listened, and now it seems he’s going to attempt to let you feel just a fraction of what you’d done to him.

It seems unfair; Unable to kiss him or touch his skin while he fucks you. Though you’d done worse to him, a man with senses multitudes stronger than your own.

“Do you, fuck… Do you want an apology?”

The edges of his thigh armor press against the skin of your ass and will more than likely leave marks, unforgiving against your much softer skin.

“No. I want you to feel what it’s like to not get what you want.”

His thrusts slow until he’s only grinding against you, feeling the way your cunt leaks all over his cock. Your thighs keep tensing as you attempt to press against him, feeling so, so close but having him deny you. You can’t feel the heat of his skin, the roughness of his hands or his hair against your cheek; As he looms over your body with a black, grey and red silhouette.

He looks almost like a ghost, when you turn to look at him for just a moment. The dim, mostly broken lights of the tiny storage closet only further the illusion.

He swears he can almost hear his teeth grind against each other when he cums, filling you as you grind against him for more. His visor is becoming fogged from the amount of his hot breath, too much for the filters to try and fight against. It’s never fogged before; But granted, he’s never fucked you while he’s had it on.

He feels you cum around him, gripping the crate your bent over so tight as you intake a breath and hold it long enough he almost tells you to breath. Your fingers grip the crate your bent over with such a tight grip it almost is turning your knuckles white, seeing stars as he fucks you slowly through it all.

Gods, you missed him. Even in the short time he was gone.

When he slowly pulls out of you, you take the time to turn and sit on your bottom instead; Legs partly spread and sore.

The entire state of you looking like this almost as Hunter’s blood pumping again.

“So, can I kiss you now?” You look up at him, face red and lips ever so slightly parted. He takes off his helmet and leans down, pressing a hand against the wall behind you to support himself as he kisses you. It feels ten times more intense after being denied for so long, you can’t help the way your hands quickly around the back of his neck fingers slipping into his hair.

“I missed you too, you know.”

He mumbles it against your lips and feels the way you smile back, giving a satisfied laugh.

“Then don’t leave me behind again? Ok?”

#mywriting #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #hunter x reader #Hunter/Reader #reader insert