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nightwingshero · 3 years ago

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OC Tag Meme

I was tagged by @tommymillers thank you, love!!! I know I’m super behind with these, but I’m doing my best!

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @xbaebsae @simonxriley @water-writings @oathofoaks @pen-in-hand @playstationmademe @chyrstis @smithandrogers @theknifegame @fadedjacket @scungilliwoman @adelaidedrubman @johnsrevelation @shellibisshe @geronimo-11 (sorry for any double tags!)

I ended up doing my MHA ocs because that’s who I’m focusing on currently.

Suzume Asui

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS.

effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.

STARDUST.

lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.

CANDLE FLAMES.

denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.

MOONBEAMS.

newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense, light hair and dark skin.

AURORAS.

combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.

FIREWORKS.

dancing until the break of dawn, Heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off; cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows

SUSPICION.

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands / baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back / arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer; marker; cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing / clenching of jaw / grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales

— SENSES

SIGHT. small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york night city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.

HEARING. crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH. being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.

TASTE. coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.

Kumeko Yomane

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

STARDUST.

CANDLE FLAMES.

MOONBEAMS.

AURORAS.

FIREWORKS.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

SUSPICION.

CONFIDENCE.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

— SENSES

Mayumi Hirano

SUN RAYS.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

STARDUST.

CANDLE FLAMES.

MOONBEAMS.

AURORAS.

FIREWORKS.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

SUSPICION.

CONFIDENCE.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

— SENSES

Himari Matsuda

SUN RAYS.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

STARDUST.

CANDLE FLAMES.

MOONBEAMS.

AURORAS.

FIREWORKS.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

SUSPICION.

CONFIDENCE.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

— SENSES

Mizuki Hirayama

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

STARDUST.

CANDLE FLAMES.

MOONBEAMS.

AURORAS.

FIREWORKS.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

SUSPICION.

CONFIDENCE.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

— SENSES

#oc: suzume asui #oc: kumeko yamane #oc: mayumi hirano #oc: himari matsuda #oc: mizuki hirayama #my ocs #bhna #mha #my hero academia #tag game

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werejusttouchingeachother · 6 years ago

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Surprise Me

Summary: You are a food critic and the new restaurant that you decide to review has an unexpected familiar face—Chef!Doyoung au

Genre: smut ®

Words: 9192 (I… I have no excuses.)

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Music Recommendation:

youtube

You push open the large glass doors to Timeless, the restaurant that was mentioned over and over again in your inbox and social media for weeks on end now, the hottest new place that everyone was raving about. You take off your Ray Bans, pushing it back into your hair as you enter the warmly-lit eatery. You approach a table right near the window that looks out into the busy street, pretending to not notice how all the waiters’ and waitresses’ eyes immediately widen as they see you and glance at each other in mild panic. Hiding a small smirk, you settle down in your seat and cross your legs, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders as you casually look around.

It hadn’t been long since you got the verified mark on Twitter and Instagram—the 21st century equivalent to being of any importance. After months of posting reviews on popular bistros and restaurants in town on your blog only to be read by about three or four hundreds of people, you decided to mix it up and unleash a bit of your restrained thoughts. Pretty soon, your unfiltered and searing comments, blunt observations with its raw honesty were driving in hordes of readers. In their words (or meme responses, to be absolutely precise), “Why would you say something so controversial yet so brave?”

They either loved every word that you wrote or detested you with every fibre of their being. The latter group was smaller in number because contrary to popular belief, you were honest and the people trusted your opinions, whether they hated it or not. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind it—in fact, you enjoyed the controversy since that was exactly what made you stand out amongst the other million food bloggers and what put you on the map.

You stared at the small golden paper plane-shaped lights that hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the room as you ignored the waiters arguing over who would wait your table in your peripheral view.

Two of them played a game of rock, paper and scissors and the winner let out a frustrated groan that was loud enough to grab enough attention. With a tight-lipped smile, he quickly approached your table.

“Hello, miss, my name is Jungwoo and I’ll be your waiter for the afternoon,” he says in a practiced-cheerful tone with an equally practised wide grin to match.

You give him a smile as you lean back in your seat, crossing arms. “Hi, Jungwoo. I’m Y/N.”

He gives you a small uneasy look, shifting slightly. “I know.”

“Oh?” You feign innocence, raising an eyebrow.

“Petty Gluttony,” he says your blogger name. “PG. You’re the food critic.”

“I’d hardly call myself a critic,” you say, placing your phone down on the table. “Just a humble blogger.”

Jungwoo looks like he wants to comment on the ‘humble’ bit for a moment but thinks better of it and settles with a hesitant, “… Right. Anyway, what would you like to have today, miss?”

“Whatever is best,” you reply, shaking your head at the menu that he held out to you as you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Chef’s special. Your recommendations. Most popular favourites. Anything. Surprise me, Jungwoo.”

“What?” Jungwoo blinked, glancing back at the counter with furrowed eyebrows before looking back at you. “Um. Okay.”

You smile at him as he scurries to the kitchen doors. The blond waiter at the counter glances at you briefly before heading in the same direction. You smile and take your phone, glancing through your Instagram as you open the restaurant’s page. You’re scrolling through comments on a photo of bruschetta when a shadow suddenly looms over you.

You raise your head and immediately feel your eyes widen, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Hello, Y/N,” The man in white said, flashing you a gummy smile that made all your thoughts stop. “I know you’re more popularly known by your blogger name but I’d rather not call you Petty Gluttony, if that’s okay.”

“I’m—” you stopped, clearing your throat.

No way. It can’t be.

“Its fine,” you said, forcing yourself to regain composure. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

“Kim Doyoung, Head Chef here at Timeless.”

Oh fuck.

You swallowed slightly and he continued, “Jungwoo told me about your order and I just wanted to know if you have any special requests? Allergies or anything?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak and he gave you a small smile. “Any favourites then? Or least favourites, so I know what to avoid.”

At this, you gave him a look. “I enjoy everything, Dong—Mr. Kim,” you corrected yourself hastily. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Oh, I most certainly will.” He smirked and you looked away for a second to catch your breath, unable to hold his intense gaze for so long. He paused and raked his eyes over you, hesitating before asking, “Is it just you?” At your confused expression, he clarified, “I assumed you had a photographer to take the pictures and such.”

“I try the places alone the first time and bring the photographer around for the second time,” you explained, shrugging. “More menu items that I try, the clearer my review is on a general opinion of the food of that place. Hence, twice.”

“That seems smart,” he nods in approval, flashing that familiar smile again. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’d actually,” you started, clearing your throat again that had suddenly went dry, “like some wine.”

Well, not suddenly. It had happened as soon as you saw a certain someone.

“Chablis sound good?”

“Pinot Noir.”

“Coming right up.” He turned and you watched his back as he retreated to the kitchen doors and it wasn’t until he was out of sight that you finally let yourself exhale noisily, not realising you’d been holding your breath.

You scramble for your phone and dial the last number you’d called, biting your lip anxiously as you wait for your best friend to pick up.

“Y/N,” His voice comes through after two rings, sounding exasperated. “I told you that I can’t make it for the taste test, I have this stupid thing with my family. Seriously, one more call and you’re going to have to get a new photographer, I swear to g—”

“Johnny,” you cut him off, eyes darting around to make sure no one could hear you. “It’s him. The chef. I’m freaking out, it’s—”

You stopped to take a huge breath and Johnny paused before saying, “What are you talking about? Chef? Who? You mean at Timeless? Where? What?”

“The head chef. Of Timeless. Is. Kim. Doyoung,” You gritted out each word, clenching your fist in your lap.

“Okaaaaaay?” Johnny said, hesitantly. “And that’s a big deal because…?”

You closed your eyes in frustration, wanting to strangle him as you forced yourself to take deep breaths again.

“Suh,” you said slowly. “Remember Doyoung from high school?” At his silence, you prodded, “Kim Dongyoung? Class topper? Valedictorian?” You lowered your voice to a whisper as you hissed, “My crush.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and it’s the warning to quickly hold your phone at a distance as Johnny starts screeching.

“Oh my God, oh my GOD, NO WAY,” Johnny is yelling now, loud enough that other customers at the nearby tables are looking over at you. “NO FUCKING WAY! THAT GUY? DOYOUNG FROM HIGH SCHOOL? DOYOUNG WITH GREAT GRADES, GREAT SMILE, GREAT ASS? DOYOUNG WITH—”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m not just getting myself a new photographer but also a new best friend,” your tone is low and deadly enough that he quietens down immediately.

“Okay, okay, chill, I’m chill,” he says, inhaling deeply before clearing his throat. “So. Did he recognise you?”

“I don’t—” You stopped, eyes darting up as Jungwoo stood near your table with his practiced smile. You flash your own smile at him, mouthing thanks as he pours the wine for you. You wait until he’s retreated before continuing, “I don’t think so. But that’s expected, I mean. Given our history. Or lack of one, to be precise.”

You recalled how he’d been that one guy in school who everyone had loved and admired. Girls flocked to him like moths to light and for a brief moment, you remember how he’d smirked at you in the hallway when he caught you staring for too long.

That was Doyoung: extremely hot and aware of it which made him cocky as fuck.

He had taken a particular interest to you after that one time in the hallway, flirting with you every chance that he could get just to make you flustered and nervous. It had pissed you off immensely—still does, even just thinking about it—because it had been a game for him and it didn’t help your massive crush on him either.

But you both were different people now. You were no longer that shy awkward girl who blushed easily with just a glance. You were one of the most outspoken bloggers, a nightmare for any restaurant that was trying to maintain a reputation, a person for whom chefs would bend backwards trying to please.

Chefs like Kim Doyoung.

You suddenly imagined him bending backwards quite literally and that obviously lead to the mental image of you bending backwards as you have before so many times, except this time, it was to please him and oh—

You blinked, shaking your head immediately as if trying to shake away the thought.

“Jesus,” you muttered, cutting off Johnny who was saying something.

Get your shit together, Y/N, you aren’t in highschool anymore.

“What?” Johnny questioned at your random outburst. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, what were you saying?” you asked, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Didn’t he tease you all the time cause he knew you liked him?”

“Yeah, he’s a dick.”

Johnny paused and you regretted your choice of words immediately as he corrected, “A dick that you’d like to ride.”

“Shut up,” you gritted out. “No, I don’t. I was a love-struck idiot teenager then and this is my chance to rewrite that. This is a God-given opportunity, Johnny. The balls are in my court now. He’s under me.”

“Mhm, balls, under you, yeah, you aren’t making this any easier.”

“Johnny, I swear to God—” you cut yourself off as Johnny laughed at you over the phone.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Johnny replied and you could tell he was smiling. You rolled your eyes as you heard him tap away at a keyboard. “All right, Ms. Revenge. How can I be of assistance?”

“Every single negative review,” you immediately replied. “Every single one. Even if it’s just hate, it’s fine. Forward it all to me. About the food, service, ambience, anything. Give me all the dirt you can find on this place.”

“I’m on it, already on their Instagram.” He paused before saying, “How does he look though? Still got it?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “Check for yourself. His personal has been tagged on quite a few of the posts. Can’t believe my dumbass missed it.”

You listen to the taps of Johnny’s fingers and then there’s a low whistle that tells you he’s found what you’ve directed him to.

“Damn, Y/N.” He’s silent and you can hear him scrolling and stalking through his personal page.

“You know,” he starts and you immediately know he’s going to say something inappropriate. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe this isn’t a God-given opportunity to get revenge but rather to finally get that Kim God-Doyoung dick and—”

You hang up, placing the phone on the table as you grab the wine glass and down the entire drink, needing it after that call. You glance to your side and Jungwoo is approaching you again, a tray in his raised hand this time. You lean back and move your glass, making room for him as he places a plate down in front of you.

“Seared scallops with pancetta,” Jungwoo says, glancing at your empty glass. “Enjoy, miss.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, straightening as you looked down at the dish. The scallops were seared well with a thin crisp brown layer around the edges, placed atop a green creamy puree of sorts and in between lay a thin bed of pancetta.

You opened your mouth to ask Jungwoo about the green but saw that he’d already retreated to the kitchen after refilling your wine. Shrugging, you take the fork and knife and slowly cut into the scallops, hoping against hope that it was undercooked or overcooked but it was soft and tender as it was sliced, cooked to perfection.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath. You stab into the sliced piece, taking it with the pancetta and the mystery green element before putting it into your mouth.

It’s probably pea puree—the frequently used combination with scallops.

You chewed slowly, concentrating as you let the flavours flood onto your palate—the meat was creamy and succulent, the crisp pancetta giving a bite to the chewy scallop and the final taste of the velvety puree. You furrowed your eyebrows as it was mild and almost bland, tasting like avocado.

And then it hit.

A dash of spice right at the end, an aftertaste that hit you out of nowhere and made your eyes widen at the completely unexpected surprise.

You caught Jungwoo’s gaze who came rushing to you as you hurriedly beckoned him.

You pointed at the green. “The puree. Avocado and—”

“Wasabi,” Jungwoo and you said in chorus, making your eyes widen as you gushed, “That’s… genius.”

Jungwoo smiled in content, looking pleased at your reaction. “Chef Kim enjoys experimenting and using unexpected combinations.”

“Well, it’s—” you stopped, realising how you looked. Clearing your throat, you regained your poker expression as you completed, “Unique.”

“I’m glad,” Jungwoo grinned at you and turned to leave.

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and cut another piece, quickly diving in for seconds. Your phone lit up and you used your elbow to swipe across the screen to read Johnny’s message:

Nothing so far, everything seems pretty perfect. Ratings are really good too. How’s the food?

You ignore the message and continue eating, chewing slowly and forcing yourself to not show any expression that revealed your true marvel at the amazing food that you were eating as you knew that eyes were assessing you from across the room.

The food finishes faster than you’d expected and you’re sipping the wine as Jungwoo returns to retrieve your clear plate. You hastily respond to Johnny’s last message with:

It’s incredible, Doyoung is a fucking wizard. Please find something or we’re fucked.

Even before you can lower the phone to the table, Johnny has replied:

How about you find his dick and get fucked cause that’s easier?

You’re fired, you send back before placing your phone down as Jungwoo arrives, the entrée in tow.

Again, he is cryptic as he just says, “Duck confit with parsnip puree.”

You pray for faults but yet again, its just another surprise—The tender meat of the duck with the nutty taste of the parsnip is ended with a note of sweet berry-flavour from the thin slices of fig placed in between the meat and puree. Once again, you find yourself blown away by the different flavours that burst and emerge on your tongue with every bite.

Dessert doesn’t disappoint either—salted caramel cheesecake that is all the perfect proportions of sweet, tangy and nutty. At this point, you’re contemplating lying for the first time on a review.

You ask Jungwoo for the bill and after paying (and a generous tip), you’re quick to get to your feet and rush to the exit. As you close the door behind you and make your way around the restaurant to your car, you catch Doyoung’s gaze through the large windows as he walks out of the kitchen. You quickly duck your head, speedwalking to your car as you scramble for your phone to call Johnny.

Three nights after your first time at Timeless, you’re walking back through the glass doors except with your arm around Johnny this time. You step into the restaurant and his eyes are already surveying the entire space for a spot with the best lighting.

Your eyes, on the other hand, are already riveted towards the white double doors leading to the kitchen at the back.

“Over there,” Johnny muttered, jerking his head towards a corner with a particularly large paper-plane light over the table, illuminating it in a perfect yellow glow.

You let Johnny lead you to the seat that he found best and right as you reached the table, you muttered, “Pull the chair out for me.”

“What?” Johnny peered down at you, confused.

“Pull the chair out,” you hissed.

“Y/N, what the fuck?”

“Johnny, just—”

He rolled his eyes and with a soft sigh, you watched him as he pulled away from your side to walk around the table and pull the seat out for you as you asked, shooting you an overly-exaggerated smile as he did it. You choose to not say anything as you give him a practiced smile and slowly sit down, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders.

Johnny sets down the camera on the table and crosses his arms at you. “So how do you think it’s working?”

“How do I think what’s working?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“This whole thing.” Johnny jerked his chin at you. “You dressing up, walking in here with you clinging onto me and practically pulling my arm off and making me pull out the chair and shit.” He shrugged. “Trying to make Chef Kim jealous, how’s that going?”

“Why the fuck would I try to make him jealous?” You defended. “Also what are you talking about? I always hold your arm, you ass. And of course I dressed up, we’re taking pictures for the blog today, I always dress up.”

“Hold my arm, yes. Hang off of it like a koala, no. Dress up, yes. Go all out in a bodycon dress of black satin, looking like a whole damn meal? Hell no.” You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and Johnny smirks, noticing it. “Who the fuck are you kidding, Y/N, I’m your best friend, I know when you’re thirsty.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, looking away as Johnny laughed. You hesitated before asking softly, “I do look good, though?”

“Good enough to eat,” Johnny assured you, making you grin. “And I know you’re hungry for some Doyoung but I’m starving for his food so let’s order.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up for once in your—Jungwoo, hi!” You quickly straighten with a bright smile as you greet the blond waiter who gives you a rather wary grin. Unlike the last time, you don’t send him away with your quizzical requests and take the menu from his hands which surprises him.

You both ordered all the dishes that were commented as average and the handful that a few deemed “below average”. Three days of extreme searching had still not granted any review that was even borderline unsatisfied—you had no choice but to resort to the “this tastes great but that tastes better” reviews where you just focused on all the ‘great’ dishes.

Once all the dishes had arrived, you sat back a bit as you let Johnny photograph them in various positions, trying to find the best angles in the lighting. Once he’d taken enough, you straightened as you posed for the thumbnail cover of the article—the only picture that would have you with the food too. You had your legs crossed under the table, both elbows resting on the surface as you held a fork to your mouth, lips around the dragon shrimp.

Johnny was standing in an awkward position in front of the table—as he always does when he’s clicking photographs since he’s basically a giant—and your eyes were riveted on the lens as you heard a soft click.

“Pout more,” Johnny instructed and you did, sensing a movement on your left in your peripheral. Your gaze shifted from the camera and widened momentarily as you saw Doyoung was leaning against the wall right behind Johnny, watching you. He raised an eyebrow when you finally locked eyes with his.

“Ooh, that’s a great expression, nice,” Johnny encouraged, hearing more clicks. You involuntarily arched your back more as you leaned forward over the table slightly to see Doyoung clearer.

“Uh, Y/N, your tit’s gonna hang out soon if you keep angling to the right like that,” Johnny warned, making you smirk.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you mutter, shrugging slightly which made the thin spaghetti strap of your dress fall down your shoulder, and you watched Doyoung as his eyes followed the movement.

You kept your gaze on Doyoung as you lowered the fork, swiping it over the dish to collect more of the sauce onto the shrimp before lifting it to your mouth again.

“Fuck, genius,” Johnny was muttering as he clicked more rapidly, trying to get the perfect shot as the sauce dripped from your fork to the table and some even down your chin. You didn’t shift your eyes from Doyoung even as Johnny lowered the camera, going through the pictures.

“This looks like porn, the readers are gonna get a heart attack,” Johnny snickered.

You placed the fork down on the dish, wiping the sauce off your chin with your finger and slowly putting it in your mouth to suck it clean.

Doyoung looked like he was trying hard to maintain his poker expression as he watched every movement of yours carefully and you released your finger from your wet lips with a noisy 'pop’ sound that seemed to startle him from whatever thoughts that he was lost in.

What wouldn’t you give to hear those thoughts?

Or rather, see him enact them out…

“Doyoung is behind me, isn’t he?” Johnny’s wry tone quickly wakes you up as your wide eyes shift to him, his judging eyes on your wet finger. He shook his head at you, sighing. “Ah, the thirst is real, Y/N. Literally. You're literally sucking shrimp sauce."

"I was cleaning up the sauce,” you defended and even before you could finish, Johnny was interrupting, “Right, cause what you just did is normal. Cleaning up. Not sucking and not porn at all."

"Can you shut up about porn already?” You rolled your eyes, wiping your hand on a tissue before picking up your fork again. “Just eat."

You both lapsed into silence and you started eating, focusing on the flavours of all the various dishes that you’d ordered together. When you looked up as you were halfway done with your lamb, Doyoung wasn’t there anymore.

When the plates are cleared and Johnny’s checking the dessert menu—although you both already knew what to order, thanks to the reviewers—a shadow falls over your table and you both look up.

“Miss Y/N,” Doyoung greets, smiling. “Glad to have you back. You left rather abruptly last time before I could even ask you about my food.”

“Oh,” you said, glancing at Johnny who had his eyebrow raised at you. You gave Doyoung a tight-lipped smile as you said, “Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

Doyoung grinned at your reply, nodding in agreement. “I guess we will. This is your photographer?”

“Johnny Suh,” you introduced, nodding as Johnny smiled and held out his hand to Doyoung. “Chef Kim Doyoung.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Suh,” he greeted, giving his gummy smile which Johnny returned.

“Johnny’s fine, Chef,” he said as they pulled away.

“I trust that you’re enjoying the meal?”

“Trust me when I say that I would respond in any other situation but the writer here absolutely cannot stand spoilers and enjoys cliffhangers so as she said, we’ll find out soon.”

Doyoung laughs good-naturedly and you have to remind yourself that you’re staring like an idiot as he does and you catch yourself just in time as he turns to you, expression shifting slightly.

“Have you decided on desserts yet?”

Johnny opened his mouth to reply but you quickly quipped, “We’re still looking. Anything you’d recommend, Chef?”

“Well,” Doyoung starts, stepping closer to the table. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in something. How about Johnny here chooses whatever he likes while I give you something off the menu?”

You blinked in confusion, noticing how Johnny’s eyebrows rise at the question, his hand quickly coming up to hide the smirk.

“That’s not how it works,” you say, ignoring Johnny as you narrowed your eyes at Doyoung. “I review your restaurant for its existing menu, not for some special recipe catered only to me.”

“Who said its for the review?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “Relax. I did some digging around, read quite a few of your reviews and I think I’ve figured out your taste palate. So its just an experiment, I guess.”

You stare at him, unblinking.

“Come on,” he insisted, shrugging again. “It’s on the house.”

You look at Johnny who’s still smiling behind his hand and he widens his eyes at you inconspicuously.

“Unless…” You looked back up at Doyoung who was slowly backing away, raising an eyebrow and smirking at you. “You’re not up for the challenge.”

At your sharp glare, he continues, “You have a rep that you’ve never found a dessert that was the perfect ten cause you aren’t sure of your own palate when it comes to sweets and nothing has blown you away like appetisers and entrees which have gotten tens from you.” He paused. “What if I’m telling you that I know exactly what that ten is?”

You scoffed in disbelief. “What, just from reading a bunch of reviews?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. Your loss. I’m only offering complete satisfaction here.”

Johnny was practically beaming at you as he kicked your foot under the table but you kept your eyes narrowed at Doyoung, trying to figure out what he was playing at.

“Y/N,” Johnny said, nodding ecstatically as he jerked his chin towards Doyoung who couldn’t see him since his eyes were on you. “He’s offering complete satisfaction.”

Doyoung smirked slyly at you. “I assumed since you like surprises, you were the type to take on a challenge but hey, if you don’t want to, I guess—”

“I’m in,” you snap fiercely, cutting him off. “Johnny will have the raspberry soufflé and as for me, I guess you should get to work soon.”

He flashed you his gummy smile, looking absolutely pleased at the turn of events as he nodded. “We’re closing up early today so you may have to stay back a bit. Is that all right?”

You didn’t have to look at Johnny to know that he was making exaggerated sex faces at you and you nodded, swallowing as you leaned back.

Doyoung stepped away and as soon as he was back behind the kitchen doors, Johnny started to stand up.

“Fuck the soufflé, I’m just going to leave and take everyone with me so you can finally get dicked down.”

“Johnny, I hate you so fucking much—”

Funnily enough, Johnny’s wish came true as all the customers slowly began to filter out of the restaurant. Johnny left about half an hour after the soufflé was done—only after you practically pushed him out cause you couldn’t hear about ‘God Doyoung’s dick’ for one more minute.

You crossed your arms and sat back, swinging your legs under the table as you watched the restaurant clear out of the last customers besides you—three guys whose volume and tempo increased with every drink they had. You were relieved as you saw them leave together through the glass doors but quickly realised seconds thereafter when the silence suddenly dawned upon the restaurant that you were alone in Timeless.

It seemed like hours later but was probably just thirty minutes when you heard the kitchen doors swing open. Your head shot up quickly as you saw Jungwoo in a casual shirt and jeans, holding a set of keys.

"I’m usually in charge of lock-up,” he explained, smiling as he held up the keys. “But since you’ll be staying back a bit longer, Chef Kim will do it tonight."

You nodded, smiling back as he placed it on the counter near the cash register. "Goodnight, Jungwoo."

"Night, Petty. Enjoy your dessert."

You startled a bit at his playful tone as he walked out of the doors but before you could even wonder what he was insinuating, a movement to the left caught your attention.

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung who was poking his head out of the kitchen and he nodded at you.

"Almost done,” he stated. “I’m just putting the finishing touches. You want to come back here and have it in my office instead of over there?"

"Oh.” You sat up, grabbing your purse and phone from the table. “Um, okay. Sure."

You got up and walked to the kitchen doors through which he disappeared again. Pushing them open, you heard a yelp on the other side and froze as you saw a bright red-haired guy hunched over.

”Shit,“ you hissed, rushing to him. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you! Are you okay?"

He held up a hand, slowly straightening as he met your eyes. You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback by his sheer beauty. He ran his intense gaze over your frame and his shoulders relaxed almost as he nodded.

"I’m fine,” he said, his deep voice taking you by surprise. “You must be Y/N."

Doyoung suddenly stepped out from a wooden door to the side of the large kitchen that you hadn’t noticed before, glancing at the two of you.

"I see you’ve met my sous-chef,” he said, gesturing to him. “This is Taeyong."

"Hello,” you said softly, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about hitting you."

He waved his hand. "It’s fine, don’t worry about it."

A short awkward silence fell over the three of you and you saw Doyoung glaring at Taeyong who was smirking back at him.

"I think I can close up from here. You can leave now, Hyung,” Doyoung said with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” Taeyong was teasing, almost grinning now.

“Hyung."

"Doie."

You were watching the whole exchange with confusion but you couldn’t help breaking into a smile at the nickname and 'Doie’s’ eyes immediately shot to you as the word left Taeyong’s mouth.

Doyoung was exasperated. "Taeyong, I swear to god–"

"All right, all right,” Taeyong laughed as he held up his hands. “I’m leaving."

He unbuttoned the white chef jacket that he was wearing and took off the cap, hanging them both far at the back where you could see small names over each hook on the wall.

Smoothening down the shirt that he was wearing underneath and running his hands through his red hair, Taeyong grinned at you as he said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Put in a good word for us, you know we deserve it."

You narrowed your eyes at him and opened to your mouth to say something but he began laughing as his gaze went over your shoulder. You quickly turned and Doyoung dropped his hands immediately, smiling at you innocently as if he wasn’t gesturing behind your back.

"Goodnight,” Taeyong called out, making you turn your attention to him again as he waved his hand, pushing the back doors. “Have fun with your dessert!"

You turned to look at Doyoung again and raise an eyebrow at him, mostly at the fact that this was the second time in an hour that someone had said 'dessert’ weirdly but if Doyoung understood you or not was unclear as he chose to ignore it and explained instead, “Taeyong. Sous-chef and best friend, unfortunately.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mhm.” Doyoung cocked his head slightly as his gaze turned intense and you bit your lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden and the fact that his eyes immediately fell to your mouth at the movement didn’t help either.

“Um,” you trailed off, your gaze falling over the kitchen as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Doyoung leaned back, smirking slightly and you could hear the playful lilt in his tone as he hummed, “Hmm?”

You rolled your eyes at this, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “I hope that you know it’s late, Chef and I have places to be. So if you’re done leaning on the wall and being useless…”

“Isn’t someone bitter?” Doyoung teased, winking at you in a very cheeky way that made you swallow. “Lucky for you, I have just the sweetness to help balance it. Come on.”

He lead you to the wooden door at the side and you hesitantly entered, eyes widening in surprise as you realised it was his office.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to his broad wooden desk. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and made your way to the desk, realising the only place to really make yourself comfortable was just the single swivel chair behind it. You sat down reluctantly, placing your hands on the soft armrests to pull the seat forward. It was a comfortable plush leather and you couldn’t help sinking into it as you leaned back.

The door opened again and you quickly straightened as Doyoung entered, a small tray on his hand with a dish that was obviously covered with a lid.

You shot him a glare which he returned with a smile as you muttered, “You love being dramatic, don’t you?”

“Hey, you’re being all tight-lipped about the review and it’s not fair if I’m the only one living in suspense, is it?” He defended as he slowly approached the table and placed the tray carefully down in front of you.

Well. He had a point there.

Your silence made him grin as he stepped back, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, Petty Gluttony.”

You raised your hand to grip the handle of the lid, feeling a thrill run through you as you wondered what he had hiding. You pulled it up with a quick motion and lowered it onto the desk, eyes widely scanning the dish.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the sight, feeling your shoulders slightly deflate.

In a crystal glass bowl lay two scoops of smooth chocolate icecream.

“This is—” you cut yourself off as you looked up at Doyoung, seeing the glint in his eyes as he waited, despite the blank expression on his face.

“—not what it looks like, is it?” You finished, raising an eyebrow.

Doyoung smiled slyly, shrugging as he silently gestured for you to try and you picked up the spoon that was placed alongside the bowl. You paused, thinking of mint, salt, chilli, cherry, orange and any other unique exciting flavour that he could have put in.

Just try it.

You scooped it up into the spoon, realising not unsurprisingly that he’d made it perfectly creamy and smooth despite the short notice. Glancing up to meet his eyes, you put the spoon into your mouth.

The first thing you notice is that it was just as creamy as it looked. You chew on the spoon, the cold melting over your tongue and your eyes widen as you’re suddenly hit by the flavours—

The slight bite of bitterness—he’d used dark chocolate—followed by a subtle almost smoky heat. You swallow and that’s when the aftertaste hits—a mild sweetness coupled with a dash of spice.

It wouldn’t work. It shouldn’t but it did.

You look up with wide eyes, not even bothering to hide the emotions that you’re feeling as you gape at Doyoung. The chef is thoroughly enjoying the show, having seated himself on the opposite edge of the desk, eyes watching your every move carefully.

You quickly swallowed another spoonful, trying to understand all the confusing flavours that were exploding on your tongue—the most incredible one being the aftertaste of the sweet spice that you would immediately subdue with another spoonful of the cold cream to soothe the heat.

It was a cycle. You couldn’t stop.

“What the fuck is this?” You demanded, feeling aghast and Doyoung laughed, not seeming offended or surprised by your choice of words.

“Care to guess?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t even want to try,” you admitted honestly, making him grin.

“Well,” he said, glancing down at the bowl. “It’s dark chocolate, firstly. Got that bitterness?”

You nodded.

“And then… Tabasco and Smoked Chipotle.”

Your mouth dropped, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

“What?” you exclaimed, aghast. “That’s insane!”

Doyoung nodded, shrugging casually. “Not the first time I’ve been called that.”

“How the fuck does this work?”

“Proportions. Get it right and you’re hit with the perfect amount of everything in a perfect almost orchestrated order—sweetness of the chocolate, the bitterness of the dark cocoa, the slight umami of the Tabasco and finally the smoky heat of the Chipotle. Everything’s balanced. Nothing is overpowering. It’s perfect.”

“You…” You shook your head, feeling at a loss of words as you ate the last of it, not even realising that you’d finished it. “I’ve never seen this on the menu.”

“Because it isn’t there,” he stated. “It’s… not exactly a common favourite. Not everyone will like it.”

“That’s bullshit. How can someone not like this?”

“People prefer their desserts sweet, Y/N. You have a unique taste in food.”

“People are stupid. This is fantastic. You’re a genius.”

You don’t look at him as you say it, scooping up the base of the bowl to lick the final bits from the spoon and you hear Doyoung pause at your compliment before saying, “I’m glad you think so, Y/N L/N.”

You freeze, your hand going still over the bowl. You drop the spoon back onto the tray and look up to see Doyoung’s eyes on you.

“It is you, isn’t it?” He said, cocking his head. “Petty Gluttony. Y/N L/N from Seiken High School.”

You felt blood rush into your cheeks as you gaped at him, not able to say anything.

“I thought you looked familiar that first time,” Doyoung grinned. “And I had my suspicions too when you almost called me Dongyoung. But since you’re so private on social media, it was easier to find Lists of Your Best and Worst Reviews in 2018 than actual information about you.”

“But I confirmed it today when I saw Johnny,” he continued. “We may not have gone to the same culinary school but Yuta did go to yours. He kept me updated on you and told me about your giant best friend who was a Photography major that you met at university so when he came in today, I was pretty sure.”

You blinked, racking your brain as you tried to recall Yuta from school who had apparently been in the same culinary academy as you but you couldn’t remember his face for the life of you—although the name did ring a bell.

All those thoughts came to a stop as it suddenly registered what exactly he had said.

You looked at Doyoung in confusion. “Why did you want updates on me?”

Doyoung shot you a look as if to say ‘really?’

“Because,” he started. “I was interested in the hot girl who had a huge crush on me but was too much of a wimp to do anything about it.”

Your entire body stilled as you felt a fierce blush sweep across your face, protesting defiantly, “I was not!”

“Sure you weren’t,” he rolled his eyes. “I can still recall the way you blushed everytime I looked at you in the hallway, Y/N. Very similar to the way you’re blushing now. So don’t lie to me.”

“You played around,” you reply, deciding to be blunt since trying to keep your pride at this point was useless anyway. “You knew about the crush and decided to tease me like some kind of game.”

“It wasn’t a game!” He protested, eyes wide. “I was genuinely flirting! You kept running away though and became a stuttering mess every time that I even tried to approach you so I wondered if I was in over my head and if maybe you hated me.”

You stared at him, your body feeling really warm in the office now as you felt like you were back in school again.

“But hey.” He grinned, walking around the desk and coming to where you were. Your foot reflexively pushed the swivel chair back a bit to put space between you as he sat casually on the edge of the desk, right in front of you, saying, “You’re in my office now. I’m a chef and you’re a critic. Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?”

You swallowed, wanting to look away but not being able to pull away from his intense gaze. “I guess it does.”

“Almost didn’t recognise you, Y/N,” he murmured and you didn’t fail to notice that his tone had dropped lower as he quickly swept his eyes over you. “You’ve… glowed up.”

You didn’t think he could have made you blush yet again given how red you already felt but for some reason, the odd almost-millennial-slang compliment flattered you more than any adjective could.

Feeling a spark of confidence, you met his gaze more strongly as you cocked your head and said, “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. I’m not running away now, am I?”

Doyoung’s eyes were trained on you and the way that he was sitting off the edge had his one leg pressed to your crossed knees—just the slightest contact but it was enough.

“No,” he agreed, voice soft. “No, you aren’t.”

You clenched your thighs together tightly, feeling the atmosphere shift at the prolonged eye contact and almost as if he sensed it too, Doyoung smirked, “Does that mean you’re finally going to make a move?”

You blinked, surprised at the bold question.

Does he…? No way, he couldn’t…

“Well,” he pulled a thoughtful face. “Maybe if I challenged you again—”

You shot up from the seat before he could even finish and his arms were already open as you grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him forward. Your mouths met in a fierce heated kiss and he let out a soft surprised sound at the force, making you smile against his lips. His hands snaked around your back, slow and sensual, almost caressing. The touch made you relax in his arms as you let go of his jacket, choosing to loop them around his neck and run your hands through his hair instead.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, making a breathy moan escape your lips. He took the opportunity to push his tongue inside, his hands lowering down your waist to cup your ass as he pressed you harder into him.

You pulled away to catch a breath, opening your eyes slowly to see his gaze down on your mouth.

“I know I made the icecream,” Doyoung muttered. “But I love the way you taste—your tongue is still cold and I’m getting the spicy aftertaste.”

“Nice to know that you’re still conceited, Dongyoung,” you replied sarcastically, making him chuckle as he pressed another kiss to your lips, tongue tasting you again as if he couldn’t get enough. His one hand began wandering again, gliding smoothly over the hem of your short dress and snuck under it to cup the flesh of your ass, making you groan loudly.

He pulled away, looking at your red face as he said, “Your skin is flushed, Y/N. If you look this good just from kissing me, I can’t imagine how you’ll look under me.”

You leaned closer, pecking his jaw and leaving kitten licks and nibbles on his throat. “Why imagine when we could find out?”

His other hand joined the one under your dress as he gripped you tightly. “Also the black satin? This was intentional, right? There’s no way that you didn’t plan this. Do you seduce the chefs at all the restaurants that you go to?”

“No, just the ones that I’ve been fantasising of since eighth grade.”

You felt him smile against your forehead as his hand quickly came to your hair, gripping it tightly to yank your head back and meet your mouth in yet another kiss.

“Let’s bring those fantasies to life then,” he breathed, quickly spinning you around until you were pressed up against the desk as his hands lifted you and placed you on the wooden surface, quickly positioning himself in between your thighs.

“You’ve had your dessert,” Doyoung stated, eyes glinting. “Now it’s my turn.”

He pulls away, grabbing the bowl from beside you and tipping it over your shoulder so that the melted liquid of the icecream that had settled at the bottom of the bowl trickles down your collar bone and disappears into your cleavage. You hiss at the feeling of the cold liquid dripping over your flushed skin.

Doyoung kisses you, sucking and licking the icecream down the length of your throat, hands coming to pull the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders that quickly brought the entire front falling into your lap.

Cold air hit your exposed breasts and before you could even shiver, Doyoung’s lips were already nibbling and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You arched your back, trying to push as much as you could into him and he brought his hand to your other breast, kneading and twisting your nipple until you were squirming in his arms.

You feel your eyes widen as he suddenly drops to his knees, head right in between your legs as he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, bunching the dress up around your waist. The satin material helps you glide smoothly over the desk as he quickly pulls off your underwear and throws your thighs over his shoulders, the action pushing his head forward.

You let out a surprised yelp as you felt his cold nose on your slick folds. Before you could even process all the sensations running through your body, Doyoung’s arms came around your thighs to hold them apart firmly as his tongue licked a long streak right over your wet slit.

Your stomach clenched with arousal as you moaned, hands immediately finding his head to clutch his hair tightly in between your fingers. You felt him smirk as he licked up all the wetness, feeling the tip of his tongue that was cold from the icecream circle around your clit.

Your thighs were clenching tightly around his head as you leaned back, bucking your hips into his face as he laid his tongue flat over your nub, flicking it with the tip teasingly over and over before circling your walls when you started convulsing.

“Doyoung,” you whined as he refused to let you cum, teasing you into overstimulation every time you felt yourself reaching close. Your legs clenched down around his shoulders, fingers yanking on his hair painfully at this point as the soles of your heels pressed into his back.

He started tonguing you faster, your impatience setting him off as he circled his tongue around your clit faster and rougher. You gasped loudly as you felt his long finger join his tongue, your walls immediately swallowing the digit as he thrust it into you at a quick pace. Your eyes closed tightly as you fell back onto the desk, digging your heels into his back as you felt your orgasm crash over you, making you buck into his mouth and fall apart at the mercy of his tongue as he laps up all of it.

Your legs are numb as Doyoung lowers them back down and stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You take a shaky breath as he stands to his full height in between your legs and you try to regain your composure as you find your footing with the heels and stand up, shoving his chest until he fell back onto the seat.

Doyoung raises his eyebrows at you in surprise as you move your hair over your shoulder and straddle him.

“Thought you had places to be?” he teased, looking up at you with that small gummy smile that was miraculously both cute and sexy at the same time.

You leaned back as you crossed your arms in front of you and pulled off your dress, chucking it across the room. You pressed your bare chest to his front, wanting him to feel every bit of you as you snaked your arm around his neck and leaned your forehead onto his, holding his gaze intensely as you said, “Yeah, I meant your lap.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected reply and he surprises you by erupting into a laugh. You can’t help but smile sheepishly as he grins at you.

“When’d you get so smooth, Y/N?” Doyoung asks, cocking his head and you shrug, unbuttoning the front of his chef’s jacket.

“I’ve always been smooth,” you reply as he straightens from the seat, unhooking his arms from around you to help you take off the jacket.

“Really?’ He sarcastically asks, letting you pull off the dark shirt that he was wearing underneath. “Last I checked, running away wasn’t really the smoothest flirting in the book, or even flirting for that matter.”

You glared at him as you tossed the short aside. “Can you shut up about my awkward high school self already, I’m literally going to ride you.”

He smiled, his hands coming to cup your ass as he kissed you deeply. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of the kiss, feeling tingles all over your body.

“Go ahead,” he whispered, his warm breath hitting your mouth. “Let’s live out all those fantasies.”

Your hands are already unbuckling his pants, yanking the zipper down as fast as you can. You get up and step back enough to pull off the remaining clothes off Doyoung until he’s as bare as you.

You sit over his thighs, the skin-to-skin contact turning you on more than you thought it would and one look into Doyoung’s eyes is enough to assure you that he feels the same way as he immediately places his hands back on your ass and presses you closely to him.

You duck your head, kissing him slowly and leisurely as you grind sensually on his naked erection, your perky nipples brushing against his hard chest. You feel his grip tighten on your rear as you continue teasing him until he finally growls your name in frustration.

You pull away and raise yourself slightly, lowering your hand to take his dick. Doyoung hisses at the contact and you quickly spread the precum leaking from the tip all over the shaft and press the head to your slit, letting your wetness soak around it. Slowly, you slid down and held your breath as you felt him enter and fill you up.

“Oh,” a soft moan escaped your parted lips as you started moving, slowly trying to adjust him inside you. When you felt the head hit you right at the spot that made you see stars, you started moaning as you bounced up and down. Doyoung grabbed your hips, thrusting into you faster and grabbing your breast with one hand that were bouncing around wildly from the thrust.

You groaned, your voice cracking as you felt your second orgasm dawning closer with every thrust into your hilt until you came with a loud moan, sweat sticking to both of your bodies.

Realising that Doyoung hadn’t finished, you stood up on shaky legs which made his eyes widen in protest. He closed his mouth, however, as you quickly crawled in between his open thighs and took his wet dick into your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He exclaimed loudly, surprised and pleased as he threw his head back into the seat. His hands came around your hair to form a makeshift ponytail as you sucked him off deeply, swallowing both your combined essences that coated it. You swirled your tongue over the slit and head, sucking noisily as you used one hand to stroke what wasn’t in your mouth and he bucked from the seat. You bobbed your head up and down, taking his entire length into your mouth and he hissed at the warmth that enveloped his dick as you sucked like your life depended on it. Your free hand came over his balls, nails scraping it lightly enough just to make him feel a slight sting and it was enough as he thrust up, fucking your mouth and shooting warm loads of thick cum.

You swallowed, the filthy sounds and smells of sex surrounding the room as you licked him clean until he was pushing you back from oversensitivity.

You sat back, wiping your mouth with your hand as you breathed heavily and leaned against the leg of the desk, looking up at Doyoung who looked more glorious than you’d ever seen him—hair thoroughly finger-fucked, eyes hazy from the orgasm that you’d just given him and his entire face red.

“Guess I’m not the only one who looks good flushed,” you voice hoarsely, making him look down at you with a grin.

“Know where we’d look better?” He asked.

“Your bedroom?”

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

Your review on Timeless is uploaded three nights after you leave Chef Doyoung’s house. The last lines that you’d written become the highlights (and Johnny’s personal favourite) just as you expected:

Timeless is nothing short of surprising—the warm setting with its almost-childish but nevertheless gorgeous paperplane lights, the eccentric menu with secret flavours lying underneath each item and a chef with a unique creative streak that floods into your mouth with every bite. If you like surprises, this is the place for you. And I’ll definitely be back for more, eager to be taken aback yet again. You already know my order, Timeless: surprise me.

“This is a little misleading,” Johnny comments as he reads the draft while you sort through your laundry, making you stop and look over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You ask, worried since you’d tried your best to be honest and remain unbiased.

“I don’t think the readers are going to have the same streak flooding their mouths as you, Y/N.”

One hour after it’s posted on your blog and Johnny has left your place, your phone lights up with a message from your recently added contact:

Come over and I promise you a surprise just as good as the last time.

#nct nct127 nctsmut nctsmutfic smut fanfic mature nctimagine #nct kim doyoung kimdongyoung doyoungsmut kdy kdy smut #this is so fucking long I think its my longest yet #i want johnny as a best friend #i had too much fun with this and even did research on food so y'all better not let this flop #seriously tho #cznnet czennie #cznnet #Youtube

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ripley95 · 6 years ago

Text

OC Interview

I was tagged by @kenshi-vakarian7 and @rpgwarrior4824 for the OC interview meme. Thank you so much!

I’ve been putting off a ton of other OC memes that mostly @rpgwarrior4824 tagged me in and maybe some others? It’s been so long I can’t even remember, so sorry if I’ve missed anyone! Rather than flooding everyone’s dash with other OC memes, I’m going to do the interview, and add all of the other memes below the cut.

I’ll be doing all of them for Jane Shepard from one of the stories I’m currently writing.

Also, if anyone wants to do a huge OC master post like this with any or all of the memes involved, feel free to consider yourself tagged.

1. What’s your name?

Jane Shepard

2. Do you know why you are named that?

My parents were looking for something traditional. Something about remembering where we came from, having connections to Earth. I’m not really quite sure about their rationale behind that.

3. Are you single or taken?

Single? I’m not really sure how this is pertinent information.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

My tactical cloak has gotten me out of a few sticky situations. I guess that counts, right? Not everyone knows how to use those effectively.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I’m afraid that goes against my job description.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green.

7. How about your hair color?

Brown.

8. Have any family members?

My mom, Hannah Shepard. She’s a Rear Admiral now, you know. She’s pretty distinguished in her own right.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

I have a hamster. His name is Pongo. I have some fish too... actually, I should probably double check that one.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Intrusive and unnecessary interviews.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I do like my model ships. There’s something about the process of putting them together that’s almost meditative.

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

Hasn’t everyone?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

I’m sorry, you do know who I am right? I will say, that I don’t take that for granted. I always try my best to avoid death, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

14. What kind of animal are you?

A human? Honestly, I don’t even understand the point of most of these.

15. Name your worst habits?

Apparently, indulging reporters, for what? Some kind of romance magazine I’m guessing?

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Of course. My mom’s been a great example for me. She raised me by herself for most of her life, and she’s always tried to do her best by me. She’s a great role model. Then there’s Admiral Anderson, but, maybe let’s not talk about him.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I really don’t see how this is any of your business.

18. Do you go to school?

Not anymore. I was raised going to the Alliance Academy, almost conditioned for military life. Then there was N7 training, but nothing as formal as that since.

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

I don’t know. Now that the war is over, maybe? I never managed to think that far ahead.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

You could say that. I have a VI dedicated to sorting my mail.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Failure. Letting down my team.

22. What do you usually wear?

Usually whatever the Alliance has requisitioned for me.

23. What one food tempts you?

Oooh, anything freshly cooked an warm, and you’ll have me wrapped around your little finger. Let’s just say I’ve become way more accustomed to MRE’s than I care for.

24. Am I annoying you?

Not exactly, though I’m not sure why some of these are so personal.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Great.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Middle.

27. How many friends do you have?

Living a life in space hasn’t allowed for much stability on that front, but my crew has become a second family. It’s not about how many, but about the bonds that aren’t breakable, and I’ve found that in my crew.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Like I said, anything fresh or home cooked, and you have my attention.

29. Favorite drink?

Water’s never failed me. I’m sorry, were you looking for something more interesting? I’ll say that I am probably too attached to my coffee supply too.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Places have never really been a stability for me either. I guess the Normandy’s become pretty special.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Well... there was someone. I’m not really sure anymore.

32. That was a stupid question…

Yeah...

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I can’t say that I’ve had much of a chance for either, but I remember that sticky gross feeling after swimming in an ocean, so I’ll have to say lake.

34. What’s your type?

I’m sorry?

35. Any fetishes?

Oh, we’re really not going there.

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

Are you kidding me? You’re going to ask this after that last question? What exactly is this interview for? Outdoors, I guess. I wouldn’t say no to a nice cabin though.

Fairy Tale Aesthetics: Brothers Grimm Version

SNOW WHITE.

jade trinket boxes. taste of iron. fingertips on a mirror. yellow and green with envy. long handled hunting knives. sewing by the window. combs laced with pearls and poison. an apple white one side and red the other. white doves. frosted glass.

THE MAIDEN WITHOUT HANDS.

a blunt axe. a ring of chalk. tear-stained cheeks. sweet pears. hands tied behind back. shallow rivers. aching feet, walking for days. flowing gown. liquid silver. wax seals. blinding lights.

THE THREE LITTLE GNOMES IN THE FOREST.

lukewarm bath water. sapphire butterflies. tiny milk snakes. baskets of strawberries. fat toads. sparkling snow. fur cloaks. raw gemstones. kettles made of copper. red wine. a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere.

BLUE BEARD.

a tiny key made of gold. pools of blood. stains that won’t rub away. galloping hooves. treasures from far away lands. dragging by the hair. dark and damp cellars. marble walls. shivering with fear. screaming at the top of your lungs.

THE SIX SWANS.

sitting side-saddle. daughter of a witch. nettles. white feathers. refusing to smile. needles and threads. a castle in the forest. sound of beating wings. birthmarks. climbing trees. balls of yarn. silver crowns.

LITTLE RED CAP.

wildflowers. rich-tasting cake. wicker baskets. the path rarely trod. sharp teeth. curtains drawn. a dying fireplace. grey pelts. red velvet. handmade quilts. sunlight peeking through branches. opening corks with a satisfying pop. looking someone directly in the eye.

OC Body Language Meme

DEFENSIVENESS

arms crossed / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth / brow furrowing / shoulders hunched / sudden, sharp movements / growling

REFLECTIVE

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows / scrunched nose / staring to the side / fidgeting

SUSPICION

INSECURITY & ANXIETY

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically / hugging themselves / head whipping around frantically / hanging down avoiding eye contact / low growling / shoulders hunched over / sitting with knees pulled up to the chest

ANGER & FRUSTRATION

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / running hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw/ grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales / hitting walls and random objects / loud growling / pacing / yelling randomly

OC sense aesthetic

SIGHT. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.

HEARING

crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH

being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.

TASTE

coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.

Bold Relationship Tag

If anyone actually made it this far, I’d be shocked. But seriously, if you want to do any kind of variance of an OC master post for your OCs, feel free to do it and tag me.

#OC Interview #My OC #Jane Shepard #oc memes #lots of memes #long post #super long post after the cut

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arysafics · 6 years ago

Text

Dreams

Rated E, ~3,900 words

Summary: Bellamy is home from college for the summer, and it's both a blessing and a curse that his gorgoues step sister, Clarke, wants to spend time with him. Written for the 2019 kink meme.

Bellamy wakes up to a body landing on top of him, jolting him out of his dream, which he’s pretty sure was just about to get dirty. He groans, opening his eyes one at a time to find out who his small but violent attacker is. Ah, the subject of his dream. His stepsister, Clarke. He should have guessed.

“Wake up,” she says, grinning. She’s got him pinned to the bed, her legs straddling him, wearing a flimsy little nightie and, quite clearly, no bra. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers himself, and he’s just thankful there’s a nice thick duvet separating the two of them.

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them again, he makes sure he’s looking at her face.

“What time is it?” he groans. He’d gotten in late last night, after the long drive home from college. His mom had been up to greet him but Jake and Clarke were both in bed asleep. Aurora had made them go to bed, since it was going to be after one by the time Bellamy got home.

“It’s just before seven,” Clarke tells him.

“Why?” Bellamy whines.

“You should have woken me up when you got home last night, so I’m waking you up now.”

“God, you’re such a brat,” Bellamy huffs.

“You know you love me.”

He does love her, that’s no question. He’s sure he’d let her get away with pretty much anything, although that hasn’t always been the case. He was fourteen when his mom married Clarke’s dad, and gaining a twelve-year-old sister was probably the worst thing he could have imagined. Clarke hated him too, and they spent most of their time getting each other and themselves into trouble.

But they grew close in the six years that followed, and now Bellamy can’t imagine his life without her. So yeah, he definitely loves her. Sometimes he’s sure he loves her like a sister, like he’s supposed to. Other times… his eyes fall to her protruding nipples, and his cock twitches. The dream she’d woken him up from isn’t exactly an anomaly either. And he’s pretty sure most brothers aren’t using their sister as their go-to wanking material.

Worried she’ll guess what he’s thinking, Bellamy moves quickly flipping her over so she’s the one on her back, and tickling her sides. Clarke dissolves into giggles, squirming underneath him, trying to bat his hands away. They’re probably too old for this now, but Bellamy can’t help himself. He loves to hear her laugh, and he loves to see her squirm. He especially loves the way her huge tits jiggle with every movement.

Her nightie rides up her thighs and Bellamy’s heart speeds up, sure he’s going to get a glimpse of her panties. But Clarke quickly grabs the hem and pulls it down.

“Bell, stop,” she says, still laughing. “Oh my god, stop, I’m not wearing anything underneath! You’ll see my pussy!”

Bellamy stops, his face growing hot, his semi-hard cock jumping to full attention. He pulls away quickly, putting an acceptable distance between him and Clarke.

“Sorry,” he says. He doesn’t know what else to say. The only other things going through his brain are god please show me your pussy and what kind of tease comes into her stepbrother’s room wearing only a scrap of silk and no underwear? Both options seem less than appropriate.

Clarke sits up, her own face redder than he’s ever seen it. “I should go and get dressed,” she says. “I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast, big brother.”

With two words, she puts him in his place, reminding him of why he can never have her, no matter how much he wants her. Sure, biologically they aren’t really related. But in every other sense of the word, they’re siblings. They grew up together like siblings. Their parents expect them to behave like siblings.

If Clarke knew the things he thinks about her, she’d probably be scandalised. She’d think he was a disgusting pervert, lusting after his stepsister like that. It’s not her fault she grew into the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. But then again, Bellamy also can’t help it if he gets hard every time he so much as thinks about her.

After she’s gone, Bellamy throws himself back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. God, it’s so much easier to pretend when he’s away at college. Yes, he still gets hard when she’s talking to him on the phone, but he can pretend it’s because of external factors, and not her husky voice sounding like some kind of phone sex operator. And as soon as she hangs up, he can distract himself with some other woman.

But here, she’s in his orbit at all times. She usually walks around the house in barely any clothing, teasing him, whether she knows it or not. It’s absolute torture. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through three months of this before he goes back to college.

His cock throbs painfully. He tells himself he’s not going to masturbate over his little sister. He’s not an animal, he can control his urges. But another voice in his head reminds him that they aren’t actually siblings, and that there’s nothing wrong with finding her attractive. Nothing wrong with getting himself off to the thought of her writhing around in his bed.

He looks to the door, making sure it’s shut. Then he sneaks his hand into his boxers, letting his fist close around his aching cock. He leaves his boxers on, just in case Clarke decides to come barging back into his room. He strokes himself slowly, letting himself imagine what would have happened if Clarke hadn’t made him stop tickling her. If she hadn’t noticed her nightie riding up, and she’d exposed herself to him. God, he wants to see her pussy so bad. He wants to touch her there, taste her, push his cock inside her and fuck her senseless. She could do with a good fucking, he thinks.

Bellamy picks up the pace, continuing to fantasise about fucking her while she’s wearing nothing but that nightie. He imagines ripping the flimsy thing to pieces so he can see her tits bounce as he fucks her. He imagines getting his mouth on her pretty pink nipples, sucking so hard she cries out. He imagines her begging him to let her come, and then begging him to fill her with his come. When he comes into his boxers, he imagines he’s coming inside her, that his hand clenching around his cock is her pussy, though he knows his rough hand could never compare to her soft wet cunt.

He feels ashamed of himself for a moment, lying on his bed, panting, his boxers full of his own come. He gets up, peels them off and throws them into his laundry basket, before heading towards the shower, where he knows he’ll probably get himself off again.

Bellamy has organised to catch up with some of his old high school friends that night. Clarke gets all sulky when he tells her he’s going out.

“I thought you were going to be home, otherwise I would have organised to do something as well,” she says, pouting. They’re in her bedroom, which is weird for him. He can’t remember the last time he was in here. He’s avoided being in her room ever since he first realised he had a thing for her. Three years.

“I thought you’d be sick of me by now,” Bellamy jokes. They’ve already hung out together all day. Mostly binge-watching Clarke’s new favourite show, her legs across his lap, wearing a crop top and a tiny pair of shorts, while he tried not to touch her too much or stare at her very noticeable camel toe. If he doesn’t get away from her for a few hours he thinks his dick might actually become permanently erect.

“Are you sick of me? Is that why you’re going out?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Bellamy says. “It’s just one night. You and I have all summer to hang out.”

Clarke doesn’t seem in any way placated by this information. Bellamy loves that she wants to spend time with him, he really does. She makes him feel wanted, more wanted than anyone, even his own mother, has ever made him feel. But he really needs to let off some steam if he’s going to be around her all summer.

He thinks one of his friends from high school, Roma, might be down for some action this summer, no strings attached. Exactly what Bellamy needs.

“You could invite some friends over,” Bellamy suggests. “Mom and Jake are out, so you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

Clarke sighs. “Maybe.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he says.

“I’m not mad.”

She lets him pull her into a hug, stiff for a moment before she melts into him. He loves the way her breasts feel, pressed against his chest. He pulls away. Over her shoulder, he notices the large teddy bear lying on her bed, one he’d given her years ago after he won it on some game at a carnival. He grins, walking over to it.

“You still have this?” he asks, picking it up off the bed. It’s a little worse for wear now, the once pure white fur is yellowing, and it’s missing an eye. It looks well loved. He taps its little plastic nose. “Isn’t eighteen a little old to be sleeping with a teddy bear?”

“It’s comforting,” Clarke says defensively, grabbing the bear’s arm and pulling it from Bellamy’s grasp. She does seem a little embarrassed about it though. Bellamy thinks it’s cute. He likes that she still sleeps with something he gave her, that she finds it comforting.

“Okay,” he says. “I didn’t mean to judge. I’ll see you later. Tomorrow, maybe. I might stay at Miller’s.”

“Fine.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes at her before he leaves. She can be exasperating sometimes.

The truth is, Bellamy’s high school friends are less fun than he remembers. Sure, it’s great to catch up with them, but he’s ready to go home by nine-thirty. And even though Roma seems keen, Bellamy can’t bring himself to go through with it. So he heads home. Clarke will probably still be up, and he kind of really wants to know what happens next in that show they’ve been watching.

When he gets home, he’s disappointed to find the lights downstairs are all off, and he figures Clarke either went to bed early or found something better to do than sit home alone all night. He heads straight to his room, intending to maybe read a chapter or two of his book before he goes to sleep.

He pauses when he gets to the door of his room. It’s closed, but there’s a sliver of light underneath. Did he forget to turn it off before he went out? He puts his hand on the door handle, and as he’s about to turn it, he hears a moan. His stomach flips over. Clarke. She’s in his room. Moaning.

He debates with himself whether to go in or leave. Is she alone? Was that a sex moan or a something else moan? And most importantly, why is she in his room? He has to know. He swings the door open. He’s so not prepared for the vision in front of him.

Clarke, naked from the waist up, on his bed, her eyes closed and her mouth open. He manages to tear his eyes from her naked, bouncing tits to trail down her body. Between her legs is that fucking teddy bear. She’s humping it desperately, it’s plastic nose against her clit. Her pussy is hidden by a pair of boxers. His boxers, he realises, and he almost has a heart attack. He stares at her a little longer, watching as she fucks herself on the bear. Then it hits him. Those aren’t just any pair of his boxers. It’s the pair he was wearing this morning, the pair he came in and then threw in the laundry basket.

God, he thought she was so sweet and innocent, at least when it came to sex. But now he’s watching her masturbate using a teddy bear he gave her, on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of his dirty, come-stained boxers. She’s filthier than he could have imagined. His heart is racing and his cock presses painfully against his zipper. He should probably either leave, or alert her to his presence, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

She moans again, pressing herself harder against the bear’s face. “Bellamy,” she moans, and his stomach drops, thinking for a moment she’s realised he’s standing there. But no, she’s still focused on fucking herself, whining, her face contorted in desperation. She’s thinking of him. Bellamy feels like he can’t breathe. It takes all his self-control not to go over there, wrench the bear from between her legs and replace it with his cock. But he has to see her finish.

She gasps for air, dropping her head, still grinding her pussy down on the bear with an urgency that let him know how desperate she is to come. But it seems like she can’t quite get there.

“Please, please,” she whines, echoing Bellamy’s thoughts. He wants to watch her come so badly. Needs to see what her face looks like when she orgasms, knowing all the while she’s thinking about him.

She opens her eyes. Her gaze falls on Bellamy and her eyes widen, panicked.

“Oh my god,” she cries. Her arm flies across her chest, trying to hide her tits from him, as if he hasn’t been watching them bounce up and down for the last five minutes. “Oh my god, oh my god.” She turns away, rolling off the bear and onto her stomach, hiding her bright red face from him by pressing it into his pillow. “Don’t look at me!”

Bellamy steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. “Why not?”

Clarke groans. “You aren’t supposed to see me like this. You’re my brother. It’s wrong.” Her voice is muffled by the pillow. She’s clearly totally humiliated by him catching her.

Bellamy walks over to the bed and sits down beside her. “And yet you were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

Clarke doesn’t respond, just squirms with embarrassment. Bellamy’s eyes rake over her. He can’t really see anything he’s not supposed to, now her tits are hidden from his view. But she’s left a nice big wet patch on his boxers. She really is soaking. Does she know she’s sitting in his dried come? Surely she must. She’s not that naïve.

“Clarke, look at me,” Bellamy says softly. Clarke reluctantly turns her head towards him. Her face is still a brilliant red, and she looks like she might actually cry. “I’m not mad or freaked out and I’m definitely not laughing at you, okay?”

Clarke nods. “How long were you there?”

“A while.” Bellamy reaches for the bear. “So that’s what you use this for, huh? You use it to get yourself off?”

Clarke nods again. “I named it after you.”

Bellamy flushes. Fucking hell. Knowing she wants him too, it’s a lot to handle. He knows he absolutely should not fuck his step-sister. But he can tell she wants so badly to be fucked, and by him.

“How often?”

“I don’t use the bear that often,” Clarke whispers. “It feels really good because it feels wrong to do that to a toy you gave me, but…” she trails off, squeezing her eyes shut, like she can’t believe she’s telling him this. Bellamy swallows.

“And how come you’re in my room?”

Clarke won’t look at him as she answers. “I was just going to sleep in your bed,” she says. “Sometimes I do that when you’re not here. And I knew it would smell like you because you just slept in it last night.”

“And then… you went through my laundry?” Bellamy asks, reaching out to finger the bottom of his boxers.

“They were just sitting there on top,” Clarke says. “And I couldn’t help myself.”

“I came in them this morning,” Bellamy tells her. Just in case she doesn’t know.

“I know,” she whispers. “I—I wanted your come. I think about you coming inside me all the time.” Bellamy just about combusts when she says that. She’s so fucking filthy he can’t stand it. “I like knowing you got yourself off in here this morning. I was pretending you thought about me when you came.” She buries her head in the pillow again. “I’m really sorry, I know I shouldn’t think about you like that. I’ll stop, I swear—”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says hoarsely. “I was thinking about you.” He can hardly believe she doesn’t know this already. Otherwise, why confess all that stuff?

She turns back to him. “You were?”

Bellamy huffs out a laugh. “God, yes. Clarke, you were in my bed wearing no panties. It’s all I could think about for the rest of the morning. You’re all I ever think about. For years. You have no idea how much self-control it takes for me not to touch you inappropriately. Fucking hell, I nearly died when I saw you tonight, in my boxers, humping that teddy. And when I heard you say my name…” He groans, dropping his head down. His cock is throbbing. He wants her to know what she does to him.

“Bell,” Clarke whimpers. “I was so close, I—”

“I know,” he swallows. Clarke bites her lip. He knows what she wants. It’s what he wants. She rolls over onto her back, putting her tits on display for him. She watches him, looking sultry, as she slides her hand down the front of his come-stained boxers. Fucking hell. She’s even more brazen now that she knows he wants her too.

“That’s it,” Bellamy says, unable to help himself. “Play with your clit, baby. You were so close before. Come on, faster.” Clarke fingers herself rapidly, quickly working herself up to where she was before, panting, desperate, ready to come.

“Come on, Clarke, just a little more,” Bellamy says. “You’re nearly there. Does it feel good?”

“Uh huh.”

“I love watching you play with yourself,” Bellamy continues. “You look so pretty like this, all flushed and desperate. Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” Clarke moans. Her hand stills, clutching her pussy as she comes, arching off the bed, her mouth open as she comes almost silently. “Bell,” she gasps. “That was so good.”

He can’t help himself then, she looks so beautiful post orgasm, half-naked in his bed. He leans down to capture her lips with his, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. She moans into his mouth, and he slips his tongue into her open mouth while his hands grip her waist tightly. She clings to his neck, pulls him closer, letting him devour her, kissing him back just as hard. Bellamy pulls away, breathless.

“You’re not done, are you?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“I’m so fucking hard, Clarke. I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you?”

“Please,” she says. Bellamy’s hands shake as he pulls his shirt over his head. Clarke reaches for his chest, tracing her fingers over the hard planes of his torso while Bellamy fumbles with his belt and fly. He sheds his pants, and Clarke’s fingers trail even lower, over his waistband, circling the tip of his cock through his boxers. His breath hitches, and he swears he nearly comes right then, with her touching him so gently.

She tugs on his boxers and he helps her get them off, revealing his erection. Her eyes are heavy on his cock, but she glances up to meet his eyes as she runs her finger along the underside, making him shudder.

“You’re so big,” Clarke murmurs. “I imagined you’d be big.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t scare you?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I want you inside me.”

“God, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. He leans down to kiss her again. He reaches between her legs, slipping his hand into the boxers she’s wearing to feel her soaking cunt. Clarke whimpers as he presses a finger into her. She drags the boxers down her thighs, wriggling out of them until they reach her knees, where Bellamy catches her wrist.

“Leave them there,” he growls. Clarke nods. Bellamy bring his lips to her neck, on top of her now, his hand back between her legs. But she’s wet enough already, and she’s already come once, and he doesn’t think he can wait any longer to put his cock in her. Clarke seems just as impatient, reaching for his cock, teasing him with her fingers. She spreads her legs as wide as she can with the boxers around her knees. Bellamy removes his fingers from her cunt, pressing his cock against her instead. And fuck, he’s so close to fucking her.

Clarke moans as he enters her. She’s so fucking wet, and her tight walls feel amazing clenching around his thick cock.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” Clarke says, but she thrusts against him, desperate for his cock deeper inside her.

“You feel so fucking good. I don’t know how long I can last.”

“I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

Bellamy can’t resist that. He pushes all the way into her, and she lets out a small whimper.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He pulls out. Slams into her again.

“Fuck,” she gasps. Bellamy can’t hold back any longer. He fucks into her, and she meets him with every thrust, humping against him they way she did with the teddy bear.

“You gonna come again?” Bellamy asks, his voice strained, desperately trying to hold on as long as he can.

“Yes. Just—” Clarke puts her hand between her legs, rubbing her clit while he fucks her. “Yes, Bell. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Her thighs tremble and she shuts her eyes, and her walls clench around him as she comes, squeezing his own orgasm from him.

“Me too, Clarke,” Bellamy pants. “Fuck. I’m coming inside you.”

“Oh god,” Clarke moans. Bellamy spurts his come into her, satisfying some animalistic need to fill her up with his seed. He tries not to crush her as he falls on top of her, spent. He rolls away from her, their combined come coating his dick. His come leaks from her pussy, and Bellamy feels a pang of sick pride.

“I want to taste it,” Clarke says. She slides her hand between her legs, gathering his come on the tip of her middle finger. Bellamy watches in awe as she brings it to her lips and sucks it into her mouth.

“Fucking hell, Clarke. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe,” she smirks. “You taste so good. Want to try?”

“God, you’re so depraved,” Bellamy says. Clarke laughs.

“What about you? You just fucked your own sister.”

“You’re not my sister.”

“I was your sister this morning,” Clarke smirks.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Good.” Clarke leans over, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. “I’m keeping your boxers, by the way.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

18 notes · View notes

megabadbunny · 7 years ago

Note

For the DxR fic meme: Nine x Rose; 01 G ☯

(Nine x Rose, Jackie’s flat, midnight, Rose’s diary; from @doctorroseprompts )

***

He knows he shouldn’t, and yet, here he is.

(But it’s not exactly his fault, is it? If she didn’t wanthim to see it, maybe she shouldn’t have left it lying around all public in theopen, conspicuous and winking at him and daring him to take a little peek,wriggling its (figurative) hips like a minx in red throwing a perfumed kissover one shoulder. Never mind the fact that it wasn’t lying around in public somuch as it was in her room, that it wasn’t in the open so much as it was tuckedunder her mattress.)

The Doctor glances around furtively, even though he knows noone will catch him in the act; the flat is empty of any other living thing,save for him and the dust motes colonizing the space beneath the rug. Rose andher oddity of a mum have whisked off somewhere or other (“a proper girls’night”, Jackie might’ve said, or might not have, as the Doctor might not havebeen listening) and Jack is goodness-knows-where with goodness-knows-whom, sothe Doctor figures he’s got a good few hours to himself before anyone returns.And he’s got to find some way to occupy himself, hasn’t he?

(Besides, it isn’t as if he went snooping specifically for it.More like, he snooped, and there it conveniently was. Also, he’s bored.)

Plunking himself down on her bed—not nearly as soft or plushas her TARDIS bed, he thinks with a smirk—the Doctor opens the book to thefirst page.

Dear dairy readsthe first line.

The Doctor chuckles. There is no date scrawled anywhere onthe page, but the scribbles and misspellings amidst very careful and deliberatestrokes tell the Doctor these words were written by someone who had only recentlylearned penmanship, and was determined to do it well.

Dear dairy

Hello how are you? Myname is Rose Marion Tyler. It is my brithday today I am 6 years old.

It’s almost impossible to imagine Rose ever being so young;far easier to picture her emerging fully-grown and stubborn-willed and jeopardy-friendlystraight from inception. But the Doctor tries, and in his mind’s eye he canalmost see her sitting on the bed—no, lying on it, stomach-down, her sock-cladfeet kicking idly in the air. Her hair, unbleached and light brown, would be pulledback into a ponytail, held in place by one of those what d’you-call-it’s. A scrunchie. Her head would bend down inconcentration over the diary as she clutched her pen tightly in her small fist.The Doctor imagines the pen to be pink, glittery, one of those gel-things, hopelesslyand wonderfully childish and girly, and his grin broadens.

Mummy and me had aparty in the park and Lottie and Fred cud not come but Shireen was there andMickey to and his gran and my grandad Prentis. Grandad brung cake from thestore it has had a heart drawed on and my name and there were candels.We had ice cream to. And I had prezents there was a barby and shoes and a newbell for my bike…

The list continues and the Doctor rolls his eyes fondly.Clearly, six-year-old Rose had decided to commit only the most pertinent ofdetails to memory. He flips through perhaps the first quarter of the diary, pausingat a mention of Mickey here, a drawing of a flower there, and watches as Rose’shandwriting grows more confident, her entries more substantial. Her diary is amicrocosm of her adventures with mates, days at school, developing crushes, thelikeability of some of Jackie’s boyfriends and the caddishness of others. Atrandom, the Doctor slips a finger between the pages and opens the diarymid-entry, perhaps a year or two along its timeline.

and it felt awful butI didnt say anything bc he was right I dont have a dad but Keisha got angry andtold him to butt out and mind his own business. So then Nick laughed and madefun of Keisha bout her mum and I thot Keisha might cry so I punched Nick in thenose and it bled and the head teacher says I cant come back to school for aweek. Mum says Im in trouble but she didnt stop granddad from buying me a 99 onthe way home and she said next time do a slap its easier on the nuckles.

The Doctor can just picture Rose, eight years old, eyesflashing and stance wide as she bloodies some little twerp’s nose with herfist. Now that—that is a Rose he has no trouble imagining. Laughing, the Doctorshakes his head and flips to a later entry.

8 Nov 1996

Dear diary,

We went to go see Dad yesterday.

The Doctor pauses, hesitates. He knows what the words mean—they’refigurative, not literal, because it would be another eleven years before Rose sawany more of Pete Tyler than old photos and a grave—but the memory of the daynine years earlier still sends a shiver down his spine, clenches something inhis gut in a guilty-sick feeling he can’t quite explain.

Mum told me the storyagain. She seemed all right definitely better than the last time. I think thephotos help. Granddad came to and I don’t think he rly liked Dad very much buthe was nice about him today nicer than on other days. Afterwards Mum went todrop me off with Mickey but he said she needed me so I went on home and she seemeda little happier but she still cried a bit.

The Doctor wrinkles his nose. Something about Mickey theIdiot doing a good turn makes him grumpy. Who does that idiot think he is,anyway?

We had tea and fellasleep in front of the telly. I wanted to make her dinner but there was nothingin and I couldnt find anything in her purse so I went down to Ms Nodd’s bc she’sout seeing her grandson and I got the spare key from under her flower pot and Ilooked in her bedroom and found a few pounds and took them. I bought Mum aChinese from her favourite place and she didnt ask where I got the money so I didnttell her. I dont think Ms Nodd would know it was me that took it but I stillfeel bad I just didnt know what else to do. Ill pay her back when I get somemoney for my bday.

Nice old bird, that Ms Nodd. Much nicer than some of theother tenants on the Estate, with her blue-tinged hair and cheerful smile andwithered old hands that freely distribute home-baked biscuits to errant TimeLords who just happen to be handy with a squeaky front door. The Doctor makes amental note to liberate an ATM of a couple hundred-pound-notes at his earliestopportunity and slip them into her flat.

He reads a few more pages—comfortably silly stuff, all ofit, more crushes and rants about school and discussions of celebrities andfashion and Rose’s favorite things on telly—until his fingers land on an oddlybrittle page, warped in places, buckling. Several of the words are nearlyimpossible to discern, smudged as they are, and it takes the Doctorapproximately .003 seconds to identify the water marks as tears.

(There’s no dear diaryhere, no date. The words simply begin, as if writing anything more than theabsolutely necessary would take too much energy. Like it would hurt too much.)

Granddad’s gone.

The Doctor sighs, and his hearts each break a little foryoung Rose, curled up in her bed and crying bitter tears into her pillow. Tenyears old is far too young to experience the cruelty of such a loss. But it isn’tas if it gets any easier at any other age. The Doctor knows that to be painfullytrue.

Had a heart attack.Doctors said he went in his sleep and didn’t feel anything. I hope that’s true.Mum said he’s with the angels now but that’s stupid. The angels don’t need him wedo. I already miss him.

Mum can’t stop crying.I wish Dad was here.

And there’s that feeling again in the Doctor’s gut, thesquirmy-sicky one. Almost as if his stomach knows he shouldn’t be doing this,like his body is punishing him. It was all well and good reading about the funfrivolities of a carefree primary-schooler, but this sort of thing—this issomething else. Something deep and personal, a compound fracture of emptinessand hurt. The Doctor knows should stop reading now. He really should.

(He doesn’t.)

It takes a few weeks for the mentions of Granddad Prentice tostart fading, but eventually, they do, fading away to be gradually replaced bythe normality of everyday life. Sometimes months pass between diary-entries;other times, years. The Doctor smiles as he glances over recountings of schooldays and formals and skipping classes, of Jackie’s eccentric cluster of boyfriends,of fights with friends and happy makings-up after, of holidays and gossip andhopes for the future. The day Rose and Shireen fall out over a boy is marked byan obscene amount of swearing and words crossed-out and pencil-punctures dugdeep into the page; the day Mickey asks Rose to be his girlfriend is noted withexclamation points and a lipgloss-kiss.

The day Rose meets Jimmy Stone is noted with a single heartthat simply reads Mrs Rose Stone.

Grimacing at the words, the Doctor forces himself to presson.

OMG met this bloke Jimmyyesterday n he was soooo fit reads the next entry. Shireen and Keisha and me went down the pub and he was playing in theband and I thot he fancied Keisha at first but after he asked for my number ♡ ♡ ♡I kno it doesn’t mean nothing so I didn’ttell Mickey cos no point in him worrying and he gets so jealous anyway lol

Awww, poor jealous ickle Mickey, thinks the Doctor. He snortsderisively. Human beings—so quick to such petty reactions. He’s very glad hedoesn’t have to worry about silly things like that.

Still, it’s a little surprising when, just a few pages later,things have already progressed by leaps and bounds. Jimmy kissed me! leaps out from the page, followed by things like Mickey and me had a fight and Snuck out to hear Jimmy play downtownand Went to the cinema with Jimmy and he puthis hand up my sk

Hearts hammering, the Doctor flips past that page before hiskeen eyes have a chance to read any further. For some reason, the thought ofJimmy putting his hand up anything of Rose’s—indeed, of Jimmy or some otherfool even thinking about touching her, anywhere, with anything—makes him burn abit under the collar. Unpleasant, that. Maybe he’d better take a look at Jackie’sthermostat, make sure it’s doing its job, because it certainly doesn’t feellike it.

(Still, he skips the several pages that follow, just to besafe.)

said if Iwalked out that door I’d better not walk back in and you know what screw her.She’s wasted her whole life crying about Dad and never doing anything withherself and never doing anything for me. I hate her I would rather die then belike her

Eyes widening in surprise, the Doctor quickly scans over thenext few pages, his concern deepening by the second.

love Jimmy andno one can tell me any different and if Mum really knew what love was then she’dunderstand

Im so glad I’mwith him now he gets me like no one else ever has or ever will, ♡ him forever

didnt want totake my a-levels anyway not like it means anything out in the real world

moving into aflat together next week can’t wait ♡♡♡

and I love himbut I wish he’d get a job cos the gigs don’t make enough n I can’t covereverything on my own

came home drunkagain last night n wouldnt tell me where he’d been

told me I’dbetter cough up the rest of the rent by next weekend or else he would

And then, nothing.

The Doctor frowns. Whatever he would do is left unexplained, torn away along with a wholecluster of pages in the diary, leaving a ragged little scar behind where wordsand feelings used to sit. The Doctor runs a finger along the page-stumps leftin the spine, and wonders.

What could have happened that was so bad that even the memoryof it had to be ripped away?

The next entry picks up a few weeks later. It does notmention Jimmy. Instead, the page displays only a handful of lonely words:

He wasright. I’m so stupid.

It takes a moment for the Doctor to realize that the diaryis shaking in his hands. But that’s only because he’s gripping it so tightlyhis knuckles are glowing bright white in an attempt to jump out of his skin. Andsuddenly he’s glad, in quite a perverse way, that he has witnessed thedestruction of the Reapers firsthand, because otherwise the temptation to pilotthe TARDIS back in time to ensure that Jimmy Stone never hurt Rose—that henever so much as existed, never so much as blighted this planet with even asingle vile breath—would be so strong that he’s not entirely sure he’d be ableto stop himself.

Forcing himself to calm, the Doctor skips forward, hopefullyto an entry that won’t cause hisblood to boil angrily in his ears. Now phrases like moved back in with Mum today and applied at Henriks greet his eyes, and he feels the muscles in hisshoulders begin to relax.

and a sweet ginger boy’sstarted coming round, Mum named him Jonesy

but the new job’s notso bad

going out to the clubswith Shireen

Mickey stopped by withflowers today and it was like nothing had ever gone wrong

anyway we’re datingagain

nothing’ll come of itbut some blokes won in Bristol last week so who knows, maybe we’ll win a littlesomething n I could get Mum something nice

a little boring Iguess but prolly about the best I can expect for now

So my job blew uptoday???

Now a grin spreads across the Doctor’s face, lighting it upfrom ear-to-ear. Finally. Took longenough to get here. Now for the reallygood stuff.

Fingers tingling in anticipation, he turns the page.

Nothing.

The Doctor flips through the remaining pages, hunting forsomething, anything, but nothing buta sea of white greets his eyes, winking up at him obnoxiously without so muchas a single date or scribble or scrawl to capture his attention. The rest ofthe diary is completely, utterly blank.

Huffing in irritation, the Doctor sits back, flipping thebook closed with a scowl. It makes a certain sense, he supposes, but still.Really? She’ll write about ice cream and Barbies and school gossip and Mickeythe Idiot but no mention of the TARDIS, no asides about traveling through timeand space, no discussion of Dickens or Slitheen or bitchy trampolines or 900year-old Time Lords taking her by the hand to show her anything her littleheart could ever possibly—

CLANG.

“I just found it!” blurts out the Doctor without eventhinking, pushing off the bed and whirling round to face Rose’s open bedroomdoorway. But no one stands there; indeed, if his superior hearing is anythingto go by (and it usually is), there’s no one within several meters of him, certainlyno one in the flat. And the continuing ding-dang-dongbell’s sound, ringing at twelve lazy but significant intervals, informs himthat his nervousness was for naught—it’s just Jackie’s old grandfather clock,noisily (and unnecessarily, the Doctor thinks with a grump) proclaiming thetime.

It’s midnight. Probably Rose and Jackie will be home soon. Andprobably he shouldn’t let them know he was nosing through Rose’s diary.

(Even if it wasn’t his fault, seeing as they left him aloneand bored and unoccupied in the flat, and even if he didn’t find what he waslooking for—even if he’s not entirely certain what that was.)

As he slips the diary back into its hiding-place beneathRose’s mattress, it occurs to him that there are any number of reasons Rosemight not be writing things in a diary any more—she forgot it at home, or she’stoo tired after their adventures, or too distracted, or maybe she’s even got anew one aboard the TARDIS, hidden somewhere equally silly. But there’s anotheroption too, he realizes; that she’s simply too happy to see the need forwriting things down, that she is too busy living her memories to think of takingthe time to document them. The thought warms him, contentment blooming in hischest, and he leaves Rose’s room with a smile, closing the door behind him.

(He still checks her room on the TARDIS just in case.)

***

part ii

#ficandchips #nine x rose #ninerose #ninexrose #nine/rose #prompt fill #thanks for the prompt dear!#<3 <3 <3

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ceallachs-m · 7 years ago

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11 Questions Meme

Tagged by @justsimplyl, thank you! ^^

1. Which country do you plan to go or live in?

Japan. _(:3/

2. Ever hope to meet your life partner?

Of course, though I’m not particularly looking right now. If it comes then it comes, I guess? I feel content being single atm and devoting myself to my ships and other interests. ww

3. Current goal?

Finish all my projects before the year ends and some new KnB merch by February!

4. Top 3 favourite anime and most favourite OTP

KnB - Akashi/Kuroko

Uh...... I zone out from here because I don’t really watch that much anime anymore lmao. I mean I like other series too, but nothing really tops KnB ships for me (the rest of my other fandoms with ships I do adore are from games).

5. One thing embarrassing about yourself?

I get extremely nervous whenever I have to present or speak in front of an audience alone. You can literally hear my voice shaking, lol.

6. Do you like being with people?

It really depends on my mood and who the people are. I generally like spending more time alone than with other people.

7. Are you outgoing or reserved?

Definitely reserved. I can be outgoing if I have to be, though.

8. A comment that had affect you badly.

Nothing comes to mind right now... I usually don’t take negative comments to heart, and if I do, I tend to forget about them after a while. orz Erm, I guess it’s when my aunt came over a few weeks ago and the first thing she said to me was that I gained weight? Which she ALWAYS SAYS whenever she visits that sometimes I just don’t want to see her anymore?? lol. (It’s pretty common for my family members to comment on whether you lost or gained weight when they see you, but it really bothers me because that’s all they seem to care about.)

I mean I’m 5′2″ and around 115 pounds, so I still see this as normal weight. But relatives make such a big deal out the slightest weight gain just because I’m not as skinny as the last time they saw me lol.

9. Three things that make you smile.

AkaKuro... pretty art and doujins of akakuro... that once in a blue moon occurrence when I find a good akakuro fic that I actually like... //clenches fist

10. What do you like about the current fandom you are in?

The supportive people who are still in it even though KnB isn’t as active as it was before. I’m also grateful for the JPN akakuro fandom for supplying me of the daily content I need when the western fandom isn’t as active anymore. _(:’3/

11. Three things you hope the original creator of your favourite fandom would do

KnB is over so there is nothing more that Fujimaki can do that can save it after LG //coughs I’m happy with just all the official art/merch we’re still getting from the KnB staff aha.

Too lazy to tag or right my own questions right now though, maybe later. _(:3/

#meme things #personal

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lordsardine · 7 years ago

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tagged by @ellcrys ! thanks for giving me an excuse not to fold laundry haha

Rules:

Post the rules

Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

Write 11 questions of your own

Tag 11 people

Name a few books you hold dear to your heart? Why?

I am very fond of Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn just because it is so well written, as well as has some fond memories associated with. Gone Girl is also my default answer for ‘what is the best book you’ve ever read,’ as I think the writing and plot is genius.

In terms of just like, nostalgic books. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, Ghost Horse by Janni Lee Simner, Dr. Franklin’s Island by Ann Halam, and Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert are the four that come to mind immediately.

Are you a fan of crossovers? If so, which fandoms would you most like to crossover/build a world for?

Ah…no, not really, though I will read HP crossovers since there seems to be so many of them.

Are you a humanities, stem, or both person?

I went to the “STEM Academy” for high school. But I…yeah I’m not a STEM person. My major and minors rn in college are completely humanities based haha. (Thanks “Asians Studies” and “German” and “Mandarin Chinese” I’m sure you’ll all help me get a job!1) Though I am very fond of bio, and especially love things involving evolution and punnett squares.

Jon Stuart Mill has a quote: “It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, is of a different opinion, it is only because they only know their own side of the question.” A penny for your thoughts on this quote? Do you value truth above happiness or happiness above truth? Is it okay to be ignorant if you get genuine, real, happiness in its stead? Would that be considered selfish? Indulge my pursuit for intellectual conversation just this once … also these are all just questions to get you thinking you don’t actually have to answer every singe one or any of them lol

Damn dude alright.

I think ignorance can be bliss, and sometimes it is okay to be ignorant for the sake of happiness. Like my mom’s dad, a raging homophobic, died thinking I was straight. Maybe his ignorance was selfishness on my part, but in the end we were both happier that way. (not that I’ve come out to any of my extended family, but this is an example)

Also letting children be children I feel goes along with this? I didn’t know what 9/11 was until years after the fact because my mom didn’t want to scare the shit out of me. While children shouldn’t necessarily be sheltered from everything, it’s also good to let them be kids without worries.

Idk if that answers your questions, but ye

Favourite bookstore? Alternatively, a favourite place to grab coffee and read/get work done?

Barnes and Nobles? Because like, back in rural PA that’s about your only option. In DC if I feel like getting work done outside of my apartment, I go to Panera or the library. Panera is…the workers there recognized me last year.

What is your otp of otps?

rochu. I fucking just *clenches fist*

Last thing you watched on YouTube?

…Anthony Padilla’s new video, which was surreal af (thanks Anthony for breaking away from smosh and showing that you were actually genuinely funny before you sold out, and the videos I watched and laughed at when I was 14 weren’t just a sad figment of my imagination)

What’s the most recent fandom you jumped into?

Uh. Boku no hero academia? Kind of? I read some fics for it, which I guess counts.

What do you think is your greatest accomplishment so far?

Man, I think it’s actually a tie with writing this entire AWH AU thing and going to China and studying Chinese the entire summer.

No, wait, a combination of them both.

Going to the fuckign hetalia shanghai convention by myself

Earth, air, water, or fire?

Fire

What do you want your impact in this world to be? In technology, in the environmental sector, in social justice, in something else? What are you most passionate about?

I wanna write something original and get it published by a publishing company ;; It doesn’t matter what job I eventually get, I want to write on the side and eventually get a novel published

Questions

Do you have something (like a pillow or a stuffed animal) you can’t sleep without?

What’s your greatest regret?

What piece of media holds the most nostalgia for you?

Were you ever in the superwholock fandom?

What was your dream job when you were a kid?

What was your first ship?

What is something that’s happened to you that sounds made up but isn’t?

Favorite meme?

If you could become fluent in three other languages than what you’re already fluent in, what would they be?

Favorite video game?

When I was in elementary school, this kid named Sam, who I barely talked to, one day came up to me and told me that since all the stupid squirrels were being hit by cars, by processes of natural selection, a master race of smart squirrels would arise and take over the world. Thoughts?

I tag @vodka112 , @hawthorntrees , @nyhne, @moonshine-aqua, @starfxxker, @het-lelijke-eendje, and @omuii --but don’t feel obligated to do this !

#thanks for the tag!#(psst haley remember sam and his weird squirrel thing #idk what the Fuck made me think of it but.)#sav

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missmeikakuna · 5 years ago

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Chad and the Incel Chapter 7

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

7th Post: I wonder what a woman’s love feels like

Becky rang the doorbell. She waited a minute before knocking on the door.

‘Okay, okay, I’m coming!’

When Stacy opened the door, Becky noticed her dishevelled hair, tracksuit pants, wrinkled shirt and missing earring. She looked down and found the earring in Stacy’s hand.

Gesturing to the snowy white sofa in the living room, Stacy asked, ‘I’m sorry, can you wait a little? I’m almost ready.’ Becky nodded and sat down.

She looked around the living room and saw photos of Stacy and two adults, presumably her parents, on the walls. There were no siblings in the photos. The wallpaper was as white and patternless as the sofa and the ceiling was the colour of smoke. The glass coffee table held up several heavy books, half of them about orthodontics and the other half about sports science. In front of the table stood a curved TV that stretched to both ends of the wall. The house was so clean that Becky couldn’t smell a thing.

When Stacy came out in a low-cut strapless dress and a pair of pumps with heels as high as a giraffe’s neck, Becky grinned.

‘That’s a change from before,’ she said with a chuckle.

Stacy looked down at her outfit. ‘Does it look bad?’

‘No, you’re pretty as always. It’s just, well, we’re just going shopping. You don’t need to wear something that formal.’

Stacy shifted her gaze to Becky’s jeans and t-shirt. She tensed up and started to walk back to her room, but Becky grabbed her arm.

‘It’s okay. Let’s not waste time that could be spent hanging out. How does that sound?’

Stacy nodded. She took Becky to her white beetle and drove the two of them to the nearest mall. She automatically entered her favourite clothing store and took out a blue dress, holding it up against Becky.

‘This would look cute,’ she said.

Becky looked at the tag and pursed her lips. ‘This is pretty expensive for a dress.’ She showed Stacy the tag.

‘Really? That’s pretty cheap for this store.’

Becky frowned. ‘You do realise I’m just an honour student, right? I can’t afford stuff like this.’

Stacy’s cheeks looked like someone had lit a candle underneath them. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know.’

Becky put her smile back on. ‘I’m surprised I can see you blushing underneath that tan.’ Stacy covered her face but Becky took one of her hands off it. ‘It’s cute.’

Stacy tore her hand away from Becky and put it back on her face. ‘Do you always say everything you’re thinking?’

Becky stroked her chin. ‘Have I changed? I distinctly remember holding secrets at my old school. How strange.’

Stacy brought her hands down and raised an eyebrow. ‘You kept secrets?’ she asked, trying to ignore the loud rumbling from her stomach.

Becky nodded, her fingers still on her chin. ‘I also distinctly remember being quite the intellectual snob.’ Before Stacy could ask what had changed (not that she would dare), Becky told her a little story. She spoke as they walked towards the food court.

There was a crowd of people gathered around a phone by the lockers, all laughing and making comments about a video. No one seemed to notice Becky White glaring at them from across the hallway.

The girl was sitting on the ground with her back against her bottom locker, reading a thick book about the history of video games. Well, she would be reading if the sound of chatter and the stench of men’s body spray wasn’t a distraction. One girl’s laughter sounded like she was squeezing her last remaining brain cells through her nose. One boy’s speaking voice made him sound like he was doing a mocking impression of a stupid person, which would be hilarious had that been not his natural voice. When he turned his head towards Becky, she pushed her frown up until she wore her ‘role model smile’, a technique she had perfected over multiple nights of practising in the mirror.

Becky guessed the group must be watching a video on a celebrity scandal or something stupid like that, so when she heard someone talk about a climate change-disbelieving politician between giggles, she dropped her book onto her lap and clenched her fists. She was never wrong. She must have misheard the girl.

The bell rang and Becky headed to art class, lathering on a new coat of ‘role model smile’. In class, her teacher handed her a sheet of paper, on which Becky maintained a crab’s grip despite her hands shaking. She felt a dull shiver run down her arms, leaving her feeling cold. Soon the cold melted away to blazing anger, which exploded through her body.

She stood up and slammed her hands against the table. ‘Excuse me, there’s something wrong with my grade for this assignment.’

The teacher headed to her desk and looked at the piece of paper. ‘What seems to be the problem? The grading is correct.’

‘You know me, Mr Oh. You know I deserve a better grade than this.’

Mr Oh lowered his voice to a gentle half-whisper. ‘Your form needs work and your piece lacked originality. I’m sorry but this is the mark you earned for this assignment. May I suggest listening in class rather than reading books?’

If someone saw the way Becky looked at Mr Oh, one could be forgiven for assuming the teacher had told her he was about to drown a box of orphaned puppies.

‘Excuse me? Are you actually a teacher, because what teacher discourages reading? I’m not going to dumb myself down just to do well in ‘art’ class!’ She scrunched her face upon uttering the word ‘art’. ‘Reading is a sign of intelligence, and you know what? I read a whole lot! I don’t just need a passing mark, I deserve it!’ As her shouting turned into screeching, the other students stared at her.

‘We can talk about this some other time in a quieter setting,’ Mr Oh suggested with a soothing voice that would have worked if he was speaking to anyone else but Becky. The girl’s fist came crashing down into her desk, making no indentations but creating a loud, deep noise.

‘How can I be valedictorian if I don’t pass every class? How can I get a job in the future if my potential employees find out I failed an assignment? Do you want to be the one held responsible for me wasting my potential? You know what? Your class is stupid anyway. The great philosophers could come up with things in their mind- they didn’t need to draw or paint it!’

‘Rebecca, please-’

‘You’re being a terrible person, Mr Oh.’ Becky grabbed her teacher by his arms. ‘How does that feel? You just ruined a promising young intellectual’s life!’ She started shaking the man.

Mr Oh pushed her arms away, ran out of the classroom and came back with the principal and a security guard. All three men had to drag Becky out of the room kicking and screaming.

The last words her classmates heard from her were, ‘I deserve better than this shitty school!’

Stacy gasped, placing her salad tray onto the table. ‘Did you get expelled?’

Becky shook her head. ‘No, but I did get a suspension. I didn’t end up going back, though. I could tell what my classmates were going to say, so I moved to your school. Turned over a new leaf, realised the video games I loved counted as art and made some friends. Well, one friend. You, uh, you know Noah?’ Stacy looked up at the ceiling in thought, absentmindedly crushing the lettuce with her fork. She shook her head. Becky chuckled. ‘Seriously? He’s in our homeroom class! Well, anyway, I was friends with him until he asked me out.’

‘Did you go out with him?’

With a sip of her coffee, Becky scowled at the memory. ‘No way. I was not interested. I mean, I was starting to think I might be gay at that point, but even if I was straight, I would have still seen him as a friend. He... didn’t take it well. Called me a whore for ‘leading him on’ and then avoided me. Whenever he did talk to me, he’d oh so subtlely bring up the concept of the friendzone as if to guilt trip me or some nonsense like that. Little did he know that I felt sex-zoned. I trusted him and thought he honestly wanted to be my friend but all he wanted was to get into my pants.’

As Stacy ate her salad in silence, she looked around the food court for a potential topic of conversation. How was she supposed to respond to that?

Becky did her signature lean forward. ‘So, why the bitchy friends?’

Stacy leaned in as well, though less in amusement and more in defiance. ‘They’re not bitchy!’ she exclaimed, pointing her lettuce-covered fork at her.

With a chuckle, Becky said, ‘Sorry. It’s just… wouldn’t it be hilarious if you stood up to them? I’d love to see you try like you did just now to me.’

Stacy let go of the fork and rubbed her own arm. ‘When I tried that it wasn’t hilarious.’ She bit her lip as if her teeth were guarding a creature threatening to escape from her mouth. Becky noticed this and leaned in closer, causing Stacy’s face to feel like it was tanning under the Summer sun.

‘There’s a story there, isn’t there?’

‘You know, if I knew you were going to act like this I wouldn’t have asked you out.’ When Becky continued to stare at her expectantly, Stacy exhaled her last remnants of stubbornness and told her tale of middle school woes.

Stacy Wells wasn’t the one getting pushed to the ground, but she could somehow feel the cold tile floor of the bathroom. It was a girl with short black and purple hair who was on the ground, covering her scarred wrists. One of Stacy’s friends, the one with the nasal voice, was holding a leather jacket up.

‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed. 'I told you guys she probably cuts herself. What did I say?’

‘Can we see?’ another girl asked with a smirk.

‘Leave me alone,’ the black-haired girl whispered just loud enough for the other girls to hear.

A third girl snickered, looking down at the victim’s wrists. ‘You’re clearly not leaving yourself alone, so why do we have to leave you alone?’

‘Yeah, it’s not our fault you decided to do that shit to yourself,’ the nasal girl added. She then put on a deep voice. ‘Emo’s not a phase, dad! You don’t understand! I just want attention!’

Every girl in the bathroom howled with laughter except for two. One was, of course, the victim. The other was Stacy, who stood in the corner with her face parallel to the ground.

Like a line of dominoes being pushed, several girls repeated the same insult. ‘Attention whore.’

Stacy took a deep breath and reached for the nasal girl’s arm, the arm holding the jacket. ‘Maybe you should give that back to her.’

The nasal girl whipped her body around to face Stacy, making a swooshing sound with the jacket in the air. She glared at Stacy with the furore of a painter seeing someone spill soft drink all over their masterpiece.

‘Butt out of it, Stacy. Isn’t this exactly what an attention whore wants? For everyone to see her? Or are you so dumb you think she doesn’t want the attention?’

‘I’m not dumb,’ Stacy murmured.

‘Are you sure about that? Because everyone knows you’re a dumb slut who thinks she’s hot shit just because she grew boobs before everyone else.’

Stacy covered her chest. ‘Who said that?’

The nasal girl put her hand over her mouth. ‘N-no one.’ She glanced sideways to the girl who originally made that comment.

The victim girl stood up, tore her jacket from the nasal girl’s hand and stormed out of the bathroom with tears smudging her eyeliner. She didn’t find time to give Stacy a thankful smile.

Of course, the nasal girl wasn’t done with Stacy. ‘The fuck was that? What’s your problem, Stacy? You’re supposed to be my friend and you take her side?’

Stacy bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought…’

‘You thought what?’

The five girls who were allegedly Stacy’s friends crowded around Stacy with hands on their hips and looks that could make a titan weep. By then she had realised that she was back in that corner she hid in earlier.

She shut her mouth. She kept that mouth shut long after that day, even when the girl with the black and purple hair was targeted again. Every time she saw that girl, she felt tempted to apologise and give her a big hug, asking if she was okay. But then she’d feel the words ‘dumb slut’ pick at her mind’s wounds.

It took her over two years to feel comfortable wearing anything that showed the slightest hint of cleavage.

Becky was no longer leaning forward, instead reaching into her handbag for tissues. She handed them to Stacy, who pushed them away despite knowing how wet her cheeks were.

‘I’m sorry,’ Stacy said, waving one hand about while using the other to rub her eyes. ‘This is probably a really weird first date. Talking about stuff like this. We can end it here if you want.’

Becky took the hand waving in the air and laid it on top of the table. ‘It’s okay,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘Dates are about getting to know each other, right? I haven’t exactly had much experience with them, to be perfectly honest. But I guess it’s a special kind of date just for our kind of relationship. I’m weird, you’re weird, so our date would be… am I making sense?’

Stacy nodded and smiled, slowing her breaths down. ‘Thanks. Well, at least you know I’m a pushover now. Looks like you’re about to dodge a bullet.’

With those words, Becky cupped Stacy’s cheek with her hand. ‘Don’t say that about yourself. You did what you could. So why are you still friends with those girls?’

It took Stacy a few seconds to think up an answer. ‘Who else am I supposed to be friends with?’

Becky stood up and offered her hand. ‘Let’s shop some more. Take your mind off things. I can’t have my date crying, can I?’

Stacy couldn’t help but giggle a little as she took Becky’s hand. They continued holding hands even as they walked throughout the mall. They stopped at a STEM retailer and went into the star room, which was just a black room with lights projected onto the ceiling. They laughed as they tried to make the smallest shadow puppets in history, though alas, the stars were too small even for their shadow puppets.

After they finished shopping and headed back to Stacy’s house, they said goodbye with a peck on the cheek, which both parties were satisfied with. Becky waved to the other girl before getting into her own car and driving off, a big grin on her face.

#chad vs incel #chad x incel #Bisexual #incel #romance #drama #original fiction #breaking stereotypes #lesbian #Chad and the Incel

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