#and the dog is now probably bald

[solacestea]

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[justaballoffluff]

my brain has been almost entirely consumed by knitting and crochet the past few weeks and I don't really know what to do about it. plus I've been working on my term paper for Ancient Egypt, which has taken up a lot of my brain space as of late

went to the Museum of Natural History today and I got a mammoth plush!

her name's Lana since it means "down, soft fleece, wool". plus it follows Tullia the Leopard Shark that I got last year for my birthday

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Part 2

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

Part 2 is out now!

[dating-eveeything]

Cuddle game

Featuring: Parker

Fic type: fluff, scenario/headcanons

Purely self indulgent, I love him so much (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Honestly, it's a hassle to get Parker to relax enough to cuddle. He's always pulling out boardgame after boardgame, raring to go as if it's the only thing he knows. And I mean, it is the only thing he knows.

Once introduced to the world of affection, there's no going back. Parker will follow you everywhere just so he can keep his grubby little hands on you. Reap what you sew, as they say.

He's still the ever energetic guy that wants to play games all the time, but now he's just more understanding of sometimes not wanting to play round, after round, after round. His feelings might still be a little hurt, but nothing a little cuddle can't help, right?

Parker runs on the colder side when it comes to body temp, and he uses that as a good excuse to leach off of you. He's the type of guy to rest his freezing cold hands on the back of your neck when you least expect it- but never during a game. He isn't a filthy cheater.

Speaking of cheaters, if he finds you trying to use cuddles as a way to persuade him into losing, or distracting him? Oh he's mad. How dare you use such evil tactics!

Yes, he'll fall for it every time, unable to resist your warmth, but that doesn't mean he can't do it without anger flowing through his bones

"You filthy fucking cheater..." He murmurs while wrapping his arms around you in return. His stomach and legs sprawled across the gameboard now destroyed and half-forgotten after you asked for a hug.

Parker knew it was a trap, yet he couldn't resist the allure of your arms around him- so he folded (almost immediately, might I add).

He'll never truly get over it, but accepts that it'll happen again and considers doing it himself once or twice. Though he'd never stoop to such a low level.

His skin is surprisingly soft, for being up in the attic for ages. He's got a few splinters on his hands, but his legs and arms are smoother than a bald man's head! He knows this, and enjoys when you smooth your hands over his arms while cuddling.

The way your hands glide up and down, and even trace his tattoos at times, really lulls him into melting into you more and more.

Cuddling is never truly comfortable, and it's not because of his accessories. He loves to sleep in the weirdest, most unfortunate positions known to man. This man has fallen asleep while doing downward dog and no one can tell me otherwise.

He really, really, enjoys resting on top of you. Whether you've got big on bazoomies or not, he's resting his head on your chest and rubbing up against you like a cat. It's his favorite thing to do.

He'll also take resting his head on your stomach as an alternative if you don't want the chest option. Albeit he does it in the most compromising way ever.

Your legs will be thrown over his shoulders and he's got his hands intertwined with his like it's chill. His head rests more over your pelvis than your stomach, but don't tell him that; he probably can't tell the difference.

Definitely a yapper. You could be half-asleep in the dead of night, and the only thing truly keeping you awake is Parker's voice vibrating from him to your chest- where you can hear it more clearly somehow. It's not uncomfortable by any means, but sometimes you've gotta grab his face and give him the most aggressive, demanding kiss that you can muster up at midnight.

Such a kiss gets him quiet for a handful of minutes, just enough time to fall asleep before he starts up his yapping again.

If you want him to be quiet for longer, you'll have to offer more than just a mere kiss- such as... Two kisses.

[compulsivebites]

Meat for a dog | butcher!Simon x f!reader

based off the comments from this post | pinterest board | word count: 5,097 (soz)

warnings: 18+ ONLY (MDNI), dubcon (god i wish i could write noncon), fingering, animal meat & blood mention, piv, simon not shutting the hell up

a/n: i took a gummy and edited this so now I hate it

The swap of his gun for a cleaver- a human body for an animal one- felt like a natural exchange for him. He liked it well enough. Showed more respect towards the animal meat he carved than the human ones. He was good at it.

His days were always the same— a smoke before his shift. Wrapping the stained white apron around his broad body as he chopped various meats for the display fridge in the front. The discards would go in a plastic bucket to be thrown out. The scavenger in him knew it could probably be useful for something- fuck if he knew for what though.

Usually he recognized most of the faces that came in, bulky arms resting against the display as he watched bodies pass by, waiting for someone to summon him when they were ready.

***

Ok. Just go in there and ask. The worst they could do is say no. The idle noise of your car engine stops as you take the key out and drop it into your bag. You hate this, and almost hate how much you love your dog enough to do this. For the past month, you did a deep dive into dog nutrition. Reading about raw food, what kinds of bones he could eat, the types of diets there were within raw feeding, the different components of a balanced bowl, and the different ingredients within each component. After weeks of research, you eased your way into it. Starting with tinned anchovies- simple enough and easy to find. Your dog loved it, well- he regularly ate goose poop and food on the street so you weren't sure if that mattered but you kept going, his excited spins as you would place his bowl down was encouragement enough. It was also easy enough to buy some extra chunks of meat for your boy when you went to the grocery store. Chicken feet, duck heads, turkey neck- a little harder, but you always found it. Some other things, though- liver, heart, kidneys- are a little more difficult to source and expensive. Everyone online said a local butcher was the answer- a lot of edible meat for cheap. That felt a little bit more difficult for you, feeling embarrassed to have to ask someone if they had any scraps of meat you could give your dog. You could already imagine a scary man behind the counter laughing at you, but this was the only butcher shop around so you had no choice. Choosing this as a form of exposure therapy, it was a task you had to see through— no matter how uncomfortable.

The bell above the door rings as she pushes the door open. Simon watches your eyes scan across the store- sees the slight relief when your gaze is able to familiarize yourself with his shop. You look like a nervous little thing. Giving a small smile when you pass the elderly woman, avoid eye contact with the loud man screaming on the phone, you're shoulders tense and your feet move quickly.

"Hiya mate," Simon takes his time looking away from you. Bored eyes looking at the balding man in front of him. Sees a flash of annoyance in the mans face at Simon's lack of enthusiasm to help him.

"What'll it be?" Simon doesn't move at all as the man lists off the meats and weights for each protein. He waits a beat after the man finishes listing everything and leisurelymoves to get everything for him, a small smirk as he turns his back towards the customer, hearing him let out an irritated puff. He hands the man his things without a word, putting the cash in the register, and returns to his spot. He holds dirty, crumpled black gloves in his hands as his eyes scan the store for you. Easy enough, as it's the end of the day- neither of you notices that it's only the two of you in the store now.

"Hi, I have a weird question to ask." Decades of war made his hearing horrible and he's feeling like a shit so he almost can't help his tone when he asks.

"A little louder, love" It pisses you off and you almost leave- but you can't. You watch the smirk form on his lips. You take a look at him, his towering body at ease in his shop. He's hot in an unconventional way. His dirty blonde buzz cut growing out, his dark brown eyes that sparkle with a hint of mischievousness, his face roughened from scars that didn't heal correctly, big crooked nose that looks like he didn’t bother to get set back into place. He scares you, in an 'out of your league' way. He radiates confidence, indifference— like he always gets what he wants.

He can see the anger flicker in your eyes, but as quick as it's there— it goes. A sore spot, and he can't help as his smirk turns into a smug grin as he watches you repeat yourself a little firmer- but your politeness doesn't hinder.

"I was wondering if you had any meat you were getting rid of, for my dog. I’ll pay for it" you add the last part in quickly, hoping that will make him ease up on you. He may be handsome, but you can tell he's enjoying your discomfort. You feel like an awkward teenager again; this answer puts you on edge, makes you shrink into yourself.

"Hm— never had anyone ask me that" his thick finger taps on the display as he makes an exaggerated thinking face. "Might have some in the back- let me just switch the sign and we can take a look." He gives the glass one last tap before he pushes his broad frame back and moves towards where you're standing. His heavy boots get louder as he passes you and goes to flip the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and lock the door.

Your mouth falls slightly open. You checked the store hours a few times before you came and everyone online said it's best to go closer towards closing time but you weren't expecting him to close the store while helping you. You were a customer surely he should just leave it open? The thought felt a little selfish as soon as you had it, so you close your mouth.

He watches your throat move as you swallow, oh— he wants to play with you. Wants to trap your tail under his paw and watch you try to run away. See you squirm under him. Force pretty little noises out of you. He’s aware of how he comes across, relies on it. Expected to be a selfish lover, to take without care, and they’re right— he is. Normally he enjoys taking, gives just enough to keep the other person from complaining. Not a bad fuck but not one that needs to be repeated either. But with this situation, a perfect one where he can take his time and play with his food— doesn’t need to maul it. He wonders how much of a fight you’d put up, if any. He’ll find out soon enough.

He stands in front of you now and makes himself big, raising his tattooed arm onto the top of his head. Hand rubbing up and down his buzzed hair as he starts asking you questions he doesn't really care about- wanting to hear your trembling voice for a little longer. Like a cat playing with its food. He cuts you off mid-sentence feeling impatient, he leans down towards your ear and whispers for you to follow him.

"Let's check together." His voice feels like a boom compared to the whisper in your ear he gave a second ago. It catches you off guard and makes you jump a little. You clear your throat and take a final glance at the 'Open' sign that faces you.

"Oh, I don't want to intrude. I can wait here—"

"No, you have an odd little request. Let's figure out if I have an answer for you together." He holds the hefty stainless steel door open with his boot, thick arms crossed in front of his chest, his head following you as you enter. You hesitate for a second and force yourself to move past him and into the back room.

The smell of raw meat is the first thing you take in— it’s almost jarring how much stronger it is back here. Obviously, you think to yourself as you look at the skinned lamb bodies hanging from a hook. You wonder how he deals with it every day, but the scent follows him always, all blood smells the same no matter the species. The loud hum of the refrigerators fills your ears as you turn back to look at the butcher. The door makes a loud bang as it rushes to close and you flinch. Neither of you talk as he makes his way next to you, his massive frame hovering beside you— let’s you shrink in the silence for a few seconds before moving.

If he’s good at one thing, it’s perceiving people— had a career that depended on it. After entering the back with you, he decides to just stand there— see if you’ll leave, back out. But you don’t, instead he watches your neck bob as you swallow, pick at your nails, bite your bottom lip— you must really like that dog.

He walks towards two massive buckets sitting next to a metal table. He lifts one and lets the thick plastic container bang against the counter as he puts it down.

“This ones got some good bits, edible but wouldn’t make a profit if I put it up front.” Your eyes light up, it’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. He lifts a brow, amused by the ardent look on your face, before continuing. “It’s time for my smoke, so sort through this and pick out what you want.” He places a plastic storage container in front of you. So worn that the measurement lines are gone. “Whatever you want can go in here.” You nod without looking at him, hearing his heavy steps head towards the back exit to your right.

He waits for you to pick up a piece of meat from the bucket and whistles at you. Like an obedient dog, your head whips towards his direction the second you hear it.

“Look left.” Your head turns just as fast towards the area where you two walked in. Your eyes scan the off white walls, the steel door, the metal table. “See that small box, there? Gloves.”

“Oh, yeah, ok. Thank you.” You head towards the metal sink to wash your hands quickly. Since you started feeding your dog raw meat— you had gotten used to the cold, smooth textures. Not thinking twice about putting your hand in the bloody bucket.

“Dirty girl,” he chides. “Even I wear gloves.” You watch the end of the cigarette glow as he sucks the nicotine in. You don’t answer as you return to your table, opting to give a little shrug instead. You hear him snort as he turns his back to you to finish his smoke.

* * *

You don’t know how long it’s been, but your container is halfway full by the time he finishes his cigarette. Content in your task, sorting through the cold meat and fat chunks, you don’t notice him till you feel him pressed against your back. You go rigid. Hands frozen in place as you suddenly feel trapped.

“Good little worker, almost done filling your container.”

“I— yeah, thank you. For letting me do this, he’s gonna lo—” your words get stuck in your throat as his body twitches closer to you— like he couldn’t help it. It pushes you forward into the counter, your body causing everything on the table to lightly jerk once.

“Easy. Keep working, let me see how well you're doing.” His big hand wraps around your neck, not too tight, hanging there like a collar. Fingers lightly resting on your carotid artery as if he was feeling your pulse. He can, basks in the stuttering beats.

“Gotta tenderize the meat,” you hear him purr into your ear as his tattooed arm rubs against your hip, occasionally rubbing your stomach under your shirt. You wonder if you’ll find any bruises on your hip tomorrow.

You try to keep a steady hand as you rush to finish filling your bucket. No longer paying attention to whether the meat is good or not. You then feel him at the button of your jeans, on instinct, you jerk your hips back to get away from his hand but feel his unmovable body.

“Ah ah ah, pick that piece up again.” You pick the limp, red chunk of meat up from the bucket and let it dangle in front of the two of you. From your peripheral you see his head lower to rest his chin on your shoulder, the smell of meat, cigarette, and very faint cologne fills your nostrils. You can feel the prickle of his facial hair through your shirt. “That’s a nice cut, I reckon that one should go to the mutt, hm?” Your hand trembles slightly as you add it to the clear bucket with a weak noise of agreement. He squeezes your neck in silent approval before dragging it down. He gropes at your breasts, thumb circling your nipples, you bite your bottom lip to avoid letting out any noise.

You add a couple more pieces of meat, while both of his hands casually unbutton your jeans. He returns one hand to your chest to continue playing with your nipples through your shirt. His other hand pulls your underwear and jeans down at the same time. You feel the calloused skin of his finger scrape against the fat of your hip as he hooks it around the fabrics. You haven’t moved, your jeans pushed down to your knees, frozen until you hear his gruff voice.

“Spit.”

You slowly look down with wide eyes at his two thick fingers in front of your mouth. You swallow the excess saliva in your mouth without thinking. You both hear the quiet tu sound as you watch a small, pathetic drop of spit fall onto his fingers.

“That’s it? It’s like you want it to hurt, unless” He cuts himself off, the two fingers disappear to swipe your folds. Your face feels like it’s on fire when you feel his fingers easily glide across. He starts rubbing circles as he lets out a raspy laugh.

“Fuckin’ hell. How long have you been standing here dripping? Was it me or the meat hanging in the fridge?” You try to move your head to the side, to get away from him, but he moves his hand from your nipples to its previous spot on your neck. Thumb on the back of your skull, forcing you to keep your head straight. You feel his teeth on your ear as he nips at your lobe. “Dirty little puppy. Might need to line you up with my lamb carcasses and hose you down when we’re through, clean you off.”

“I— please, can I just go. I didn’t mean to.” You lose your words. Didn’t mean to what? Get this wet? You try to figure out a way to convince him to let you out, yet your body felt glued to the ground. His words are a bit coarse, but his touch hasn’t been so bad— a bit rough but nice nonetheless. Every touch he gives you feels like it slows your brain down. You begin to get lost in your thoughts, disappointment in yourself growing until the butcher interrupts them.

“Settle, love. What kinda man would I be if I let you leave here with that dripping cunt. And without food for your dog? I’m not cruel.” The period to his sentence is a quick slap to your pussy, you let out a suprised gasp. “I’ll take good care of you, just need you to take what I give you, yeah?” You can only let out a pathetic whine in response.

You weren’t expecting his hands to leave you so soon. Confused for a moment before you feel him lift your shirt and bra over your head, the plastic, blood covered gloves roll off along with it. His hands fall into their previous positions on your body.

“Now, how about a little quality check, see if this needy pussy is ready for me?” In any other situation you’d ask if he’s always this chatty— you feel like he hasn’t shut up since you both walked into the cold, metal kitchen. His hands have you too distracted to think anymore about it as he spreads your folds apart before sinking his big finger into you slowly, all in one go.

Like a trained dog you fall into line immediately, any form of objection, not that you’ve shown any really, gone from your body and mouth at his say so. Simon thought of all the moments he gave you to bite and bark at him, but you did neither. Like a dog who didn’t know its leash was taken off. Simons body let out another involuntary twitch into you as he thought about it, pushing his finger deeper into you. He decided that he was probably doing you a favor. A feral dog that finally got some guidance from a trainer, doesn’t really know what to do without a firm hand. He felt your warm walls pulse, like your body could read his mind and agreed with him. Simon couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. He uses his free hand to unzip his jeans, letting his hard cock bounce out, ignoring it as he places his hand on your chest, tweaking your pebbled nipples.

He knew he’d have to stretch you out a bit more before you could take him, barely able to push his finger into your soaked cunt. His thumb starts rubbing slow circles around your clitas his finger curls inside of you, working in tandem as he feels you squeeze around his finger. You can’t help the way your hips push into his hand, desperate to create more friction.

“Yeah, hump my hand needy girl.” You whine and push your hands flat against the table as you try to grind your hips against the palm of his large, calloused hand. He keeps his hand steady, making you figure out how to reach your peak on your own. Another whine slips out— more desperate this time, beginning to get frustrated that you can’t get the right rhythm.

“That’s alright, you need me to help you out?” You feel pathetic as you nod your head in response. The butcher pinchs an ass cheek before he puts his hand on your back and forces you forward till your front is laying on the table. You cringe as you feel the blood from the meat against the front of your body, you fold your arms under your forehead to avoid putting your face in it. His hand runs down thumb draws circles around your clit slowly while his long finger curls into you, feeling for your g-spot. He strokes it until he feels your cunt flutter around his finger, he can hear you panting as your body begins to shake. He bends down towards your head, as if you wouldn’t be able to hear his deep voice while he was standing.

"Don't cum yet- want you to tell me the word you use on your dog when you release him"

"What?" You want to tell him to shut up and let you cum, your pussy flutters impatiently around his finger as you try to focus.

"Like when you release him to do something. We had dogs when I was in the military, wouldn’t move until they gave a command. What’s his?" His breath tickles your neck with each word, talking casually like you’re not on the edge of an orgasm.

"Um, break." You're confused, not getting where he’s going with this. or caring.

"Alright then, Break. Cum for me like a good girl." You've never been so confused while having an orgasm, body twitching as he leaves his finger wedged inside of you. He hears you let out a shakey moan as you cum, your chest rising and falling quickly. He leans down to rest his heavy body on top of yours, his free hand wipes the light sheen of sweat from your forhead before haphazardly grabbing the top of your skull to turn your face to look at him over your shoulder and smiles at your disheveled state— can see your dialated pupils and the way your mouth hangs open as you pant. He lets go of your head and can’t help but bite on your bare shoulder until he hears your heavy breathing turn into a hiss, swiping his tongue across the crooked indents left over by his teeth, feeling you shudder beneath him.

“Want you to do a little trick for me now.” You have no time to ruminate on your orgasm or what he just said, suddenly feeling him bully a second finger to join the first one without warning, you let out a whimper as your eyebrows scrunch together. His other hand moves to your cheek, roughly pinching it as he talks.

“Breath through it, know you can take it. How else is that needy little pussy going to take my cock, hm?” You pull away from his hand and shake your head in displeasure, your wetness not enough to alleviate the painful stretch. He begins rubbing down your soft skin, stopping at the inside of your thigh and stroking it softly.

Simon doesn’t move the fingers inside of you. Takes time doing new tricks, so he decides to give you a second to adjust, the flutter of your warm cunt isn’t the worst thing his fingers have felt either. Like a trainer standing still while a dog thrashes around at the feeling of being on leash for the first time, a new sensation— he can be patient when it’s worth his while.

“That’s it— “ You don’t know how long your eyes have been squeezed shut or how long you’ve been chewing on your bottom lip, but you try to soften your face. You’ve never had anything thisbig inside of you before. You push down the thought of what he’s stretching you out for, opting for deep breaths instead. Then you feel him move his fingers, stretching them open and shut.

He curls them as he pushes them in and out, when he can tell that you’re close he pulls his fingers out. You hear him jerk himself a few times, the wet strokes sound obscene in the quiet room. Grateful that you can’t see how big he is.

He lets out a deep moan as you feel the head of his cock bully itself into your soaked cunt, his two fingers feel like they did nothing to prepare you for the size of him as you let out a quiet groan of discomfort.

“It hurts.” you whisper as you feel begin to thrust in and out of you. You don’t know how he hears you but he lets out a hum of acknowledgment and takes a hand off of your hip to play with your clit.

“I know, your cunt is barely letting me pull out.” He starts to pick up his pace now. The hum of the refrigerator now joined by the sloppy sounds of his thrusts into you. Eventually, your body adjusts to his size, you push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Plea- e- ease” You pause for a beat, realizing you don’t even know his name. “Sir?” You don’t know what else to call him, cringing as soon as you hear the formality leave your mouth.You don’t remember seeing any name tag on him when he was standing in front of you earlier and the politeness ingrained into you since you could speak wouldn’t allow for anything else to come out.

“Sir? Some set of manners on you. Or do you not know my name?” You shake your head that’s resting on the table, his thrusts unrelenting. You bite your lip to prevent a moan from slipping out before you talk.

“I don’t- know your na-” His thrusting doesn’t let up as he speaks at you, humor in his voice, “I’m inside of you, fucking you raw. You’re letting me— a strange man, fuck you. And you don’t even know his name? Oh, you are a filthy thing.” You feel embarrassed as you listen to his deep voicechastise you. A flicker of frustration fills you as you think about how he doesn’t know your name either. You let out an annoyed whine, both at him talking and his refusal to let you just cum again.

“Guess I don’t know yours either.” He emphasises the last word with a particularly hard thrust before pulling out of you all together, both of you moan, his desperate cock twitches at the loss of warmth.

He knows you were both close to cumming, but Simon doesn’t usually get to edge himself with his partners. Always opting for a quick fuck, but he couldn’t help himself this was such a unique situation— knows that you’d let him do anything right now so he can’t help but indulge by edging himself a little with your pussy.

You feel him pull you up by the shoulders, turning you around to face him. His brown eyes look down at the pink liquid covering your chest as an eyebrow quirks up, can’t help the smirk from forming before he grabs your chin so your eyes met his. He ignores the disgusted look on your face at his reaction to the blood on you.

“Forgot to tell me yours.” You tell him your name as you get distracted by his heavy boot moving. You look down and watch him step on the crotch of your joined underwear and jeans, pushing them down until they’re at your ankles, blocked by your shoes. You look back up at him to see what he does, his dark brown eyes are already on you. He lifts you up without a word, setting your warm body down on the cold table. You watch him as he kneels down to slip your shoes and socks off, tosses them somewhere to the side along with your jeans and underwear. Your breath begins to return to normal as you watch him. You notice that he didn’t bother to get undressed, his black jeans unbuttoned just enough to let let his cock out. You’re nakedness makes you feel like the lamb carcasses hanging from the hooks in the big refrigerator behind him. When Simon stands you can’t help but look down, swallowing the lump in your throat as you see his erect cock for the first time, it almost looks painful, your eyes follow the veins up to the tip covered in precum. You can’t look away as you watch his thumb spread it around before stroking his length one time before leaving it alone, turning his attention back to you.

Your hands go behind you to brace against the table as he firmly pushes your thighs open to their limit. He leans down slightly, fingers spread you open as you hear him spit on your cunt. He doesn’t bother to spread it, just forces himself in all at once. He watches your face as you struggle to adjust around him, enjoys the way your eyebrows scrunch together as he starts moving. His movements are obdurate, not giving you any reprieve from his harsh thrusts as he speeds up.

He feels the moment you adjust to his size. You both moan as you feel your pussy clench around him, feel the cum at his base being pushed out with each thrust. He uses a hand rub at your clit, alternating between rubbing it and lightly pinching it. Your body begins to quiver, you’re almost over the edge when you hear his voice.

“Break” You groan in embarassment as your body shakes, pussy clenching around his thick cock as you cum.

His hands find your thighs as he grips them harshly, thrusts losing rhythm as he chases his high now. You enjoy the grunts that leave his mouth as he gets closer. You feeli his cock still for a second before it twitches inside of you. He braces his arms against the edge of the table, surrounding your body as he pants above you.

You whimper when he begins to pull his soft cock out of you, feeling empty. He tilts his head down slightly as he looks at your opening. His finger opens your hole to give you both a better view. Your cunt twitchs at the attention, you both watch cum leak out of you. He chuckles before he moves back, tucks himself back in his jeans as he goes towards the sink. He pulls a few napkins and walks back to you, you’re surprised when he instead scoops some up to push back into you. He has a grin as you look at him with annoyance. He laughs as he hands you the napkins, he grabs the container of meat and places it on the other table, his back to you.

You swipe the rough napkin, flinching as you clean yourself off. Your skin makes a squeak as your bare skin rubs against the metal counter, you pushing yourself off. You put your clothes on as you watch his back, he’s quiet as you hear the rustling of plastic wrap.

He turns around, holding the container with one hand, he uses the other to grab your chin to make eye contact with him.

“I’ll see you here next week, yeah? He nods your head for you, "Yeah. I'll find you if you forget— I’m gonna want that container back." He pats your cheek before handing you the container.

You hold it against your body as you give him a small smile. He smirks at you as he herds you towards the back exit.

“Forgetting your manners, pet?” He lifts a brow at you, broad frame standing over you.

“Oh, thank you.” You offer him a small smile, brain trying to process what just happened.

“Good girl. Break” You hear his raspy chuckle as you walk away on shaky legs.

[snail-day]

satosugu scare me to my ass.

imagine breaking up with them because yadda yadda and they get you in the car, all fine all dandy, you think its fine, that they took the breakup well, gifts you a case for some sunglasses youve had your eyes on or maybe, if you're blind af like i am, one of them reaches out and snaps your glasses in his hands while youre sat. maybe you're too stunned, sat in silence or youre going off on them, kicking the car door open (locked) and the windows in your rage. the other coos sweetly at you, slips the glasses on and all of a sudden you're surrounded by these creatures you cannot describe. one of suguru's summons is outside the door you've direly wanted to open. maybe satosugu gets some glee in this horrified look on your face. want to go out? you sure? suguru or satoru grips your jaw tight! come on, pretty! to look at the curses, werent you so eager to get out?

or maybe they play on to your fear of these curses. just dont go bald.

Dead serious, I would piss myself. No hesitation. Because can you imagine? You’ve never seen a curse before, maybe caught a glimpse in a horror movie, and now there’s one looking you dead in the eyes. Not through a screen. Not fiction. Real. Breathing. Breeding dread into the air around it.

You try to cling to one of them, whichever’s closer or feels safer, but Satoru’s peeling your fingers off him like it’s nothing. Like your fear is a mild inconvenience. He's got that big, bright smile on his face, cooing: "Oh baby :( but you didn’t want us anymore, remember?"

Yeah. Good. Fucking. Luck.

You’re shaking. Traumatized. Seconds away from sobbing or throwing up, probably both. It's only then that Suguru hums, thumb stroking your tear-slick cheek like he's thinking it over. Like you're a particularly difficult rescue animal. "Maybe we can arrange something," he says softly, "for a little stray pup like you."

But the girlfriend card? Oh no, princess. You lost that. You get the dog crate now :)

[pollkien]

SAURON PROPAGANDA:

Honestly what isn’t there to say about him

Canonically hot as fuck for 80% of his existence. Only became ugly later on (RIP)

Has several very sexy names like Mairon and Tar-Mairon and Morgoth’s Fuckass Bitch

“In his beginning he was of the Maiar of Aulë, and he remained mighty in the lore of that people.” Hawt. Daddy Aulë still crying over him like he lost a child

Shapeshifter. Like blondes? Sorted. Prefer brunettes? No problem. Want him bald? He could do it.

Loves to give presents. He’s totally friendly! Take his rings. And he gives such good advice! Just look at Númenor! Don’t you want Númenor?

Was the one running things in Angband for quite a long time. Also spied on the activities in Almaren and Valinor for Morgoth

Big dog guy. Turned into a dog. Isle of Werewolves.

Bites :)

Morgoth’s fav

Enjoys order, planning, and coordination. Dislikes chaos and confusion. One must wonder why he joined Morgoth then

Standing on the top of the temple with lightning around him laughing as Numenor sinks - hot

‘he rose like a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice’

Extremely dedicated. seriously this guy did not know when to quit. Extremely committed to every bit he partakes in

I mean have you SEEN how hot Annatar was

Celebrimbannered Celebrimbor :)

Nearly conquered the whole of Middle-earth

“Sauron was become now a sorcerer of dreadful power, master of shadows and of phantoms, foul in wisdom, cruel in strength, misshaping what he touched, twisting what he ruled, lord of werewolves; his dominion was torment” slay

Won the rap battle against Finrod

Unfortunately did NOT win the battle against Lúthien

He found the elves first before Oromë did. Cute

Very good at hiding

MAEDHROS PROPAGANDA:

Feen’s first son. Probably very hot given how hot his dad was

Actually tried to be a decent guy in Beleriand unlike most of his brothers

Tall and ginger

Named Fingon the valiant and did not forget his friendship even when the ships were burned :’( and he “alone stood to the side”!!

Unfortunately got gotted by Morgoth. Hung from his wrist for like 20 years.

“for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield his sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been.” Cute

Tragic! So tragic!

Invented Active Elf Suicide by jumping into a volcano. Yay.

“Maedhros did deeds of surpassing valour, and the Orcs fled before his face; for since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead” slaydhros!

Moved his bros out of Hithlum so they wouldn’t bitch

March of Maedhros, Union of Maedhros, all named after him

He just seems like a big purring cat :)

Himring alone stood among the Dagor Bragollach! In fact Tol Himring is still around in the third age!

Searched for Eluréd and Elurín after the second kinslaying :(

Stole the two remaining Silmarils with Maglor

“But Maedhros and Maglor would not hearken, and they prepared, though now with weariness and loathing, to attempt in despair the fulfilment of their oath; for they would have given battle for the Silmarils, were they withheld, even against the victorious host of Valinor, even though they stood alone against all the world.” This is so hot

I guess he also is hot because he died in a fiery chasm.

Was noted for his bodily comeliness and was named Maitimo for it ;)

Shared Beren’s epesse

[phrandallanton]

I wonder what kind of relationship Vinny and Bill if they start dating

Would be toxic or worse?

Didn't expect to write this much about these two dating, hope you enjoy lol!

I feel like the only reason why they would ever date would be because they can. Not for the fact they actually love eachother.

Vinny would be love bombing Bill for sure, dispite her having moments with him in the past. She can finally say she has a boyfriend, literally the thing she always wanted. So her opinion on him will drastically change. She would be clingy but will stop if Bill tells her too. Would just do anything he says actually. She would also excuse his bad behavior maybe even justify it at times, simply because he's her boyfriend. She needs to give him the benefit of the doubt now. She'll hide her boy magazines, posters with guys she liked on them, maybe even her Megatron, Han Solo, or other figures of guys like that too. If she's not aware Bill is Greedo318 during the time, she would not interact with the account anymore. Overall she would do whatever to make him happy. Probably tried to dye her hair blond like Emma frost and ended up bald. Nobody saw her for a while. Also Vinny would unironically call Bill "Senpai". Mostly in her diary, but who knows, she could totally slip up and say it out loud.

The way Bill would be depends on how you see him. I'm going off more so pilot Bill here, if it was comic Bill I wouldn't have to tell you how badly that'll go lol. Personally, I do think he would think he's better now that he has a girlfriend. Though wouldn't dare tell the club, especially Joesph (Vinny's cousin). That man couldn't hurt a fly but also picks up Josh like it's nothing. He could totally kill Bill if he really wanted to. I don't think Bill would show effectionat in the way Vinny does at all. Like sure they might hold hands but it wouldn't be for long. Especially out in public. Would just swat her hand away like a nat lol. I just feel like he's not used to being loved in any way so he'd wouldn't know how to act accordingly and second guess a lot of things.

Suprisingly enough, I don't think it would be toxic if they really become comfortable and open up to eachother. Saying that for more so Bill. Both of them have similar problems with their parents and a dying love for comics, even though they have different tastes in genres to an extent. They're both different and similar enough that I could see it working out if they actually love echother. They would definitely have their moments, Bill being quick to anger and Vinny being a complete idiot would cause problems.

But if you want a not so happy ending then like I said in the beginning, they would just date because they can. It would be very off and on. Vinny would stay with Bill for a little while after he burnt down the comic shop, but then really break up after a week or so of him being in the hospital. I feel like that would be a time he really treats her like trash. So take that as you will.

In conclusion, Vinny would love Bill's pet dog that Jane takes care of more than him.

[callmesel]

Things that Percy probably has written in his journal, aka the only thing keeping him sain in that household

Dear diary, Ron has peed his bed today. He is not welcome in my room until he learns how to pooty.

Dear diary, I just witnessed Fred calling George adopted and proceed to cry after George said that he was the one adopted.

Dear diary, Ron has kick Ginny in the face so Ginny has bitten him. Note, don't mess with Ginny because she can bite now.

Dear diary, Charlie has eaten my piece of banana cake. I'm stealing his dragon plush and giving it to Ron. See who likes his things getting full of baby saliva.

Dear diary, George has called me a popo head so I'm hiding his favourite blanket.

Dear diary, today I have been insulted. Aunt Muriel said that I looked like dad. But dad is bald and ugly, so she called me bald and ugly. I don't like aunt Muriel any more.

Dear diary, Mum has put Fred and George in time out because they broke a vase. But me and Charlie broke it so now we are getting ice cream while Fred and George are in the time out corner.

Dear diary, I have done my first accidental magic! Mum was really happy but Charlie wasn't because I burned his summer homework but to be honest, he deserved it. He should have eaten my piece of banana cake >:(

Dear diary, I have beaten Charlie on chess so now Charlie is throwing a fit. Bill says that he is a wimp for losing to a baby so now he is in the backyard screaming because I won. I'm the best at chess now!!

Dear diary, I taught Ron how to play chess and I have been humillated. He beat me at first try. Now I now how Charlie felt.

Dear diary, Fred said that I was dumb but I'm not the one telling my twin that he is adopted!

Dear diary, Fred and George are doing the adopting thing to Ron and he started crying. They are in time out, for the third time this week.

Dear diary, I beat Fred and George in Monopoly and now they are crying because they own me 3000£. They should have think better before handing me their properties >:)

Dear diary, Ginny said that I acted like a little girl but jokes on her she is the girl and I'm not. So she is the one acting like a little girl.

Dear diary, I cried today because Mum told me that I look exactly like Dad. I don't want to be bald.

Dear diary, we were playing houses with Ginny and she wants to be the dog. I don't know how to feel but now I'm a mum of four dogs. She said that I can't be the dad because I don't work and dads work.

Dear diary, Ron has made a friend. I'm surprised because he said that friends was for losers when I made one.

[gatitties]

War & crack II

—Task Force 141 x young!reader

—Summary: more headcanons with your team as you being chaotic

—Warnings: none

Part One / Halloween special

yeah, I didn't finish my brainstorm and I bring more things from this sudden idea 🫣

─ Listen, you have a lot of problems.

─ And we are not talking about your jokes about death biting your ass anymore.

─ Price's going to go bald before he retires, how the hell are you still alive today? It is a mystery to them.

─ Everyone noticed during a mission where they had to stay in a safe house for a few weeks that you had the same concentration as a fly, empty thoughts behind your eyes lost in a distant point of reality.

─ You looked like another person when you were a simple civilian, Gaz had to pull you so you wouldn't get run over a couple of times for not looking at the traffic lights.

─ Price needs to put on videos of crunchy slime or Subway Surfers so you could hear what he was saying, (Soap won't admit that it also helps him focus).

─ They discovered that you can sleep in any position, seriously, whether it's standing up, in the bathtub, your body bent in an unusual way, now they understand why you complain so much about back pain.

─ Everyone looks in silence when they give you little impulses to do stupid things, like, last time you were walking to see the area and you found a woman walking her dog, you asked her if you could pet it and when she said yes you pet the woman instead of the dog, Ghost dragged you away murmuring an apology.

─ The following days they decided that you would stay at home, they simply fed your stupidity, every time they arrived you received them with the phrase 'where have you been, loca?' while playing a wolf howl in the background.

─ Luckily it was time to return to the base, during the trip you were listening to music, despite having your headphones you had the volume so high that everyone could hear it, Soap stuck to you because he liked what you were listening, the others decided to drown out the noise with some light talk.

─ Once you returned to the base you relaxed, returning to your working state, you focused again, which relieved all.

─ One day they decided that you needed a nickname since everyone had it except you, so they began to investigate your record as a cadet and even your years in the military school.

─ You kicked and fought because you were something else a while ago, but it was inevitable to find an old report where it said that you were violent with some classmates.

─ And in your anger for probably some nonsense, you ended up biting the ankles of a guy, or a group of guys, or even one of your lieutenants...

─ Soap and Gaz cried with laughter because there was a video of what was evidenced and you looked like a rabid chihuahua attacking its worst enemy.

─ Nibbles, at least it was temporary because you didn't entirely agree with the nickname.

— Since you were now known like that, you went from friendly punches to friendly bites.

─ Once you got kidnapped and you returned to the base the next day because your captors couldn't stand having you sing old Justin Bieber songs or listening to you talk about all your obsessions, they tried to cover your mouth but you just kept making too much noise, the information was not worth it.

─ You arrived in the middle of the meeting they had to prepare the rescue, having the courage to enter the room asking who they were trying to rescuing.

─ Price casually replied that they were looking for you until he did a double take, realizing you were there.

─ You were buried in a mass of muscles after the realization.

─ When you're depressed at random times (because you don't understand how your brain works and you feel bad out of nowhere), everyone will quickly notice, like even though you're not the most talkative person all the time, you usually drop some stupid comment, but on your bad days you are simply a piece of flesh and bones that walks without knowing where it's going.

─ The first time they saw you like this they tried to do something to cheer you up, Price gave you a few days off hoping your mood wasn't due to work overload, he even wrote some of your reports.

─ Soap bought stickers and decorations to your liking to decorate your prosthesis, he also told you that he could draw you a design to have your personalized arm.

─ Gaz tried to talk to you but you just didn't want to open your mouth, he chose to just keep you silent company, maybe you hug him, you need a little physical support.

─ Ghost will leave objects scattered around knowing that you would find them, knowing that they were things that you liked or had been looking for (because the poor guy always has to pick up what you forget around the common room).

— Nothing seemed to work until a stray kitten snuck in and lit up your face, so the easy answer was any baby animal would brighten your day, it was free therapy.

— You once dyed the boys' clothes pink by accident, but at least you told them that now they could go see Barbie with you.

— You promised you'd take them to see Oppenheimer, and that's why they agreed.

— You created a group chat just to send shitpost and teach them the meme path.

— Price just leaves it on seen, Ghost has the group muted, Gaz answers from time to time and Soap is the most active, he learns fast about today's shitpost.

— You really resist the urge to trim Price's beard to make it heart-shaped.

— You use the radio to sing parts of songs when you take too long to jump into action, Price scolds you for it.

— You complain that he seems constantly in a bad mood and you open a profile for him on every dating app you know, even on Grindr.

— You found Ghost's profile browsing Tinder and Soap's profile on Grindr... you decided to use it as a weapon in case you needed any favors.

— Gaz caught you red-handed, but you made a deal and he wouldn't say anything if he can profit from the manipulation.

— You hide it like you're hiding war crimes.

— Why does Price have so many likes from single moms?

[escapisttt]

a little late for this but idgaf. my university shut down for election day so have my thoughts on redacted couples costumes!!

milo and sweetheart: morticia and gomez addams DUHHHH AND THEY ACT LIKE IT. this or kermit the frog and miss piggy (you can choose who’s who but in my heart of hearts milo is miss piggy c’mon now)

david and angel: toji fushiguro and the fucking worm from jujutsu kaisen. david was convinced because of how simple the costume is for him; just slapped on his black muscle compression t-shirt and found some big ass pants and called it a night. meanwhile angel slathered their entire body + their tank top and shorts in purple paint and put on a bald cap. (david carries angel on his shoulders the entire night)

asher and baabe: cruella deville and ash just as a dalmation dog (baabe is dragging him around with a leash and he’s living his best life) this or mermaid man and barnacle boy.

sam and darlin’: octavious and jedidiah from night at the museum come ON. literally no question about it. if sam was more fun, darlin’ would have them go as clawdeen and draculara from monster high, but he will probably never cave.

group shaw pack costumes: the walking dead themed. sam is rick. david is negan. ash is glenn. milo is michonne. darlin’ is daryl. sweetheart is maggie. baabe is carol. angel is carl. and they’re not dressing based off of the characters’ relationships within the show or else things would be weird.

vincent and lovely: just any tim burton couple. jack skellington and sally? emily and victor from corpse bride? edward scissorhands and the girl whose name i forgot? it’s either that or walter white and jessie pinkman.

damien and huxley: deadpool and wolverine (again you can pick who’s who but i think it’s obvious)

gavin and freelancer: donkey and dragon from shrek. to be clear gavin is the dragon and he’s wearing a slutty pinkish-reddish dress with his tail on full display, a pair of fake wings, and a full face of makeup while freelancer is in a donkey onesie from walmart or something. oh and caelum dressed up as the gingerbread man.

lasko and dear: if you wanna go basic, milo thatch and kida from the animated atlantis movie. but that’s boring and lasko doesn’t just wanna be himself. so if you wanna be fun and accurate about it, they’d be gimli and legolas from lord of the rings. lasko is gimli. let him live out his d&d, fantasy-loving dreams.

porter and treasure: phantom of the opera and christine. masc treasure can dress up in a white suit or just anything fancy and white, doesn’t have to be a dress. i just need phantom!porter hnnngh. alternatively if they’re feeling a little goofier they’d go as marceline and princess bubblegum from adventure time.

anton and his lover: no one talks about them enough i will bring them up at any opportunity. that being said, wall-e and eve. anton is wall-e and his lover is eve and they hold a little plant together. i’m crying.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Screw You!

Soulmate/Corporate AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6k

Est.Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Yes, I did write myself a birthday fic- I am not delusional. Also, I had been keeping @justsomekpopstuff 's request literally for this day!

Soulmates, the concept of love, the proof of your "other half" sounds like a load of fun until you realise there's an expiry date on that fun little deal. The beauty of this ideal world was that each soul is blessed with an ink, an ink that morphs into a phrase or a sentence, one that is uttered by their other half at one point of their lonely lives.

In this fundamentally twisted world, she was one of the few who had been blessed with one of the most horrendous soulmate one liners, "Being on time means, no overtime." One she'd gladly cover up with a long sleeved shirt, a cardigan, coat or whatever she could find- yes, she had once thought of getting a tattoo over it, but apparently that was illegal? Like, okay?

As a child, she'd stare at her forearm before glancing at her parents' palms. Both had a single word on their palms, their names. Her bestfriend had a cute phrase on her wrist, one that had her taste the bitter sweet awe at the back of tongue when she saw the boy mumble that question to her platonic soulmate, "Be my starlight?" It was sweet, adorable, swoonworthy even, but like any normal teenagers, her hormones told her a different story, "You're dying single."

As the years passed by she still clung onto some form of hope, wishing that whoever this was, was some good-looking corporate hunk and NOT SOME OLD MAN- mind you, this thought had only occurred to her when her sister had stumbled across her soulmate by accident at a cafe. The young but clumsy barista had almost dropped her coffee on her. Instead, he placed his hand in the way, smiling through the pain as he hissed, "Ain't hotter than you." Granted, Mingi was a weird dude, but he was the one her sister was destined with and as much as she admired the two pair in their late teens, the girl who had hit 21 had an epiphany, "Fate hates me."

Life went on, though. People around her were slowly reuniting with their other halves, but her- screw Plato's theory of other halves. He didn't know anything. Soon enough, she found herself coming home to an empty apartment, waking up in a cold bed, staring up at the dull ceiling, letting the silence hug her with its melancholic tune. There was not much she could do anyway, everyone would remind her not to lose hope, the ugly, rude, black ink in cursive was a sign of assurity that there was someone out there for her. Yeah, an old balding, stubby man, probably with a beer belly and all that crap- yes, this could be a horrid over exaggeration. Looks didn't matter. Personality did. That was true, but then, even if he was a sweet person, why would her other half say something so pointless? Something so blunt and rude?

Yes, that was the paradoxical dilemma that had her up on alternate nights. What if he is a good-looking hunk, but is a total prick! There was no winning in this situation. To top it all off, she had managed to somehow land herself a small little place on the corporate world- now proudly titled as a team leader, she could gladly say that this world was nothing more than a dog eat dog world and she was the bone fate had been chewing on for almost 26 years.

And when our poor, little, angel-hearted, extremely polite and definitely not bitterly sarcastic protagonist was not wailing about the ink on her forearm, she was daydreaming about choking the man on the 28th floor. The bastard who had been the bane of her existence, joining on the same day together but, oh, since he was oh so great at licking them boots, he'd managed to score a bit higher than her. Misogyny at its finest. Who cared if he wasn't even aiming for the same goal as her? Who cares if he was part of the finance team!? Sure it wasn't his fault the advertising head wasn't a fan of her, delaying her promotion till the old prick had finally retired- still, her current higher up, should have at least suffered the same way! To some extent.

"Some people are just lucky." She grimaced at the way her annoyingly sweet best friend had uttered during one of their afternoon coffees, placing a hand on hers, "And, if we remember correctly, you're the competitive one. I told you not to turn it into a competition." Yes, she did handle that situation maturely, chugging down her coffee, grumbling about how break was almost over, leaving the cafe with a, "I'll tell Seonghwa you've been eying up Choi Stupid from work."

Choi Stupid. Technically, that wasn't his name, but let's call him that. Initially, she had thought he was kinda nice, cute too, but then he was just too nice? How do you get everyone to like you? Can you actually be this nice? No, she was sure he was a snarky, mean bastard deep down- yes, he did manage to get the intern manager to like him as well, yes that man would praise Choi Stupid even if he was in the wrong, even if she did better than Choi Stupid, he was somehow appreciated that day too. Eventually she had just began to ignore him, only give him one word responses, but one thing was for sure, Choi Stupid was as competitive as her, but unlike her, luck had been on his side since the start, which is why his boss was a nice lady, while her's was Satan's retired manwhore- for sure.

And as fate would have it, with the annual dinner approaching, the teams and departments were working insynch, collaborating, especially the marketing and the finance department and although she loved such creative opportunities there was one problem- Choi Stupid by default was her boss during this project. And he had made sure to make her already miserable life ten times worse.

Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

It all started when she had woken up to the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, opening the door to her family and friends who had come to give her a surprise birthday party- hey, not her fault her birthday landed on a 'working Saturday'. So yes, like any unlucky, lonely, sad 26 year old she had celebrated her special day till around 3 A.M. before knocking out cold and waking up late for work- the best way to celebrate the new year.

With a sigh she leaned back against the chair, unsure if the creaking was coming from it or her poor back, before glancing at the wall clock, leave it to Choi Stupid to have her finishing up everyone else's tasks- technically the reports were her domain, she was team leader after all, but still, she has been here since morning, she had missed her lunch with her family and her usual afternoon coffee with her friends- what a way to enjoy the day.

There was no one else on the floor but her, a part of her wanted to abandon the work and just leave, but the more responsible portion of her soul was already busy beating her up for slacking off like this. Yawning in defeat, she hunched over the desk, glaring at the screen of her desktop, audibly sighing when the familiar clicking of shoes approached her, ignoring the way they progressively got closer.

She actually forgot about him for a moment, busy reading a report, thinking of what to add when she felt him hovering next to her, "It's bad enough you have me working on my birthday, I don't need you to baby me."

With a heavy sigh, he controlled the urge to roll his eyes, placing the coffee cup on her desk in a civil manner. What was she five? Complaining about her birthday like that, it's not his fault she was late. In fact, he had to stay overtime as well, because of her! Her presence was irritating enough, but the constant pestering of his friends about his lack of significant other had him huffing all day, especially when the boss-man asked him today, "Sannie boy, you better look for her quick, you seem to be sulking these days." He only gave the bastard a tight-lipped smile, easy to say for a man who apparently found his other half at the age of ten - oh how San would give anything remotely like that. Imagine knowing your other half for so long, hell, the only people he'd known for a while her of course, his family and friends....and....her.

"What you staring at, Choi? This part of your overtime punishment?" She snapped him back to reality, snatching the cup off the desk in a graceless manner. He didn't deserve a thank you.

He could only scoff at her reaction, pushing up his glasses before shaking his head, she was hopeless, whoever gets stuck with her probably would be sent directly to heaven- considering his punishment would be to spend the rest of his life with this creature. Giving her one more glare, he mumbled, walking away, "Being on time means no overtime."

Her body jerked at the sudden realisation, twitching as her head whipped in his direction, staring at that disgusting-or not- broad back, her lips moving quicker than her brain to process, her automatic defense system kicking in before she could stop herself, instantly having him freeze in his tracks as her voice echoed, "Oh, SCREW YOU!"

An audible gasped caught his burning ears, though he stood there in place, ever so slowly the pieces coming together, forming a picture that had him laughing at the irony.

Her hand slapped against her mouth, eyes widening when she saw him turn around and glare at her, slowly walking towards her, staring her down hard. Clearing her throat, she tried to mumble an apology- wonderful girl, make sure he hates you the moment you meet him, HELL HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS HIM THIS ENTIRE TIME!?

"S-San I-"

Her words caught up in her throat when she realised what he was doing. Approaching her with careful steps he tugged on his tie in an aggressive manner, ignoring her when she tried to speak as he trapped her between the desk and his body, popping open the first two buttons of his crisp white dressshirt with one hand, his other hand gripping her shoulder, rolling his eyes when he noticed her close hers in fear, hande covering her face.

"THIS IS HARRASSMENT-"

"Read." His calm voice cut her off, gently giving her shoulder a squeeze, signalling her to do as told.

She peeked through her fingers, scanning the exposed neck line, about to scream, or possibly kick him down south. That is when her eyes caught trace of a cursive right above his collar bone.

"What...the...hell. " With a faint whisper she lowered her hands, not noticing how he was now looking at her with a certain softness, not noticing how his hands were on her waist, too busy to notice how his face was flushed, his ears burning a bright pink when she traced the phrase on his skin with the tip of her fingers, mumbling, "Oh, screw you..."

"I can't believe it, all this time, it was you." He mumbled, letting her have her moment, but not stopping with his, staring at her with a new kind of tenderness, "I spent my entire life thinking this meant my other half would reject me...I was made fun of till this day....I just...If I had known-"

"I thought I'd be married to an old, bald suited man."

His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes, "What...do you mean..."

"This, you fool, who says this to someone you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with?" She snorted, unbuttoning her cuff and rolling up her sleeve to show the statement on her forearm, letting him gently grip her wrist, bringing her closer so he could read, "I...yeah I see what you mean-Wow, we just had really weird things to say, huh?" He smiled, looking up at her, and for some ungodly reason, those dimpled and stupid glasses suddenly made her heart beat a little too fast for her liking.

"Speak for yourself. What I said was cool as hell." She mumbled, trying to distract herself, trying not to jump into his arms and break down, to think they met three years ago, and never knew any of this.

His brows raised at her statement, almost about to say something before choosing to lean closer to her, smirking at the way her eyes widened like a dear caught in headlights. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat, eyes closing when he was a breath away - until she heard a soft click and his warmth disappeared.

"Oh, look, I guess you don't need to work overtime anymore." He chuckled, eying how she stood there dumbfounded, staring at the desktop he had turned off, while he placed her things in her bag for her before slinging the laptop bag over his shoulder, "I'd take your purse too...but...the red doesn't go well with my outfit."

A loud cackle resonated across the empty floor, causing Choi Stupid to smile like a mad man at the woman who was running towards the elevator with him hot on her heels behind her.

The doors closed with a ding as he glanced at her, blushing at how she was shamelessly staring back at him, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall of the elevator with a smirk.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head, knowing he wasn't gonna like whatever was coming next.

"Lady luck ain't on your side no more, buddy."

"Why'd you say that??" He asked, raising a brow, somewhat amused at this sudden boost of energy she was now blessed with.

"Gotta spend the rest of my your pathetic life with me."

"Actually, I think I'm pretty lucky. Not only do I get to do that, I still have an hour or so before your day ends...so technically, I think you're finally getting a bit lucky there...having your other half save you and take you out on a nice relaxing dinner for your birthday."

The doors opened as he walked out, chuckling at her gasp, amusing how quick she was even in those heels.

"Save me!? From who!?"

Opening the car door for her, he gestured for her to sit and smiled while closing it, "From Choi Stupid." Laughing at the muffled whining that he could hear while he walked over to his side of the door. Truly lady luck had never left his side, because from the day he had seen her, he had wished she was the one, even when she was being her gremlin self- a part of him wished it was him.

By the time the two had gotten to the road a comfortable silence had settled between them, and a small smile had graced his lips, especially when he had felt her lace their fingers together, giving his hand a light squeeze.

She glanced at their hands, sighing in relief, grateful and somewhat pleasantly surprised, feeling a bit too giddy when he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, before casually beginning to drive again.

What a birthday surprise indeed.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[starburstsobsessions]

oh my gosh your cats and dogs au is so cute <3333 I have some questions

Since, it seems that Stone and Robotnik have no qualms with Stone attacking ppl wouldn’t there be reports about this highly aggressive stray dog running around :0 or do they manage to fly under the radar

In the movie, Robotnik gets sent off to that mushroom planet is that going to happen in this au, or is there going to be an equivalent to that here, and if there is, Stone would just be left alone again D:

Also do you mind people drawing fanart of your au >:DD

IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOY AND ALSO THESE ARE SUCH GOOD QUESTIONS TYSM I HADN’T QUITE THOUGHT ABT THESE BEFORE

I don’t think Stone would be labeled as any kind of public threat until they’re actually out doing World Domination stuff 🤔 he’s relatively docile unless provoked luckily, and they don’t encounter too many people anyway… yet! He isn’t really highly aggressive either I think, just aversive if that makes sense? He’s totally stable in a time that isn’t dangerous. Also I think it’d also come down further to the fact that they’re not in a safe area to begin with right now. Kinda unsure about the world building there, but it’s torn up and dilapidated for a reason 👁️

AND I especially love this second question omggg. I do have something similar planned!!! Spoilers kinda but I’m not set in stone yet. Not a different planet or anything, but later on there’s gonna be a whole vat of acid incident and Cat Robotnik is gonna be presumed dead until he comes back totally bald 🫢 during that time away though, I think Stone would absolutely be the saddest puppy ever seen. Probably doesn’t even eat as sad pets do and he just lays on his bed for a whole week before attempting productivity on his own somehow- and then cat rob comes back sooner at least than the mushroom planet event bc sad dogs are too sad!!!

AND FINALLY OMG I WOULD BE BEEEEEYOND ECSTATIC IF I EVER SAW FANART OF MY FANART. I would literally owe my LIFE. I would burst into a confetti explosion instantly. PLEASE DO!!!!

I couldn’t think of anything to doodle without some like Spoilers/might need to be changed for later so here’s just a regular little one 💕 again TY!!!!! I’m working on finishing up a few other projects before I get back to my official little story posting, but I will soon enough!!!!

[kn-1013]

the ONLY "modern au" for sally face i'm accepting is where they just age like normal so they're all like 47 in 2024.

sal looks like a shorter version of his dad and he's still got long hair. he's on finasteride because he'd rather suppository a baseball in front of a live studio audience than lose his hair. he works at a grocery store part time and he's on social security.

larry has been a mechanic for 15 years. maybe he eventually cut his hair, maybe he's balding but it's still long, who knows. he's the guy that'll change your oil for $20 if you buy the stuff because he's nice.

ash works at a bank, sells art as a side gig, maybe she has a kid or two but she's definitely divorced and never going back. she hates her job but she's got fantastic benefits and she likes her coworkers so she stays anyway, and she prioritizes chilling on the weekends with sal, larry, and the others.

todd became rich off of his job as an engineer and he and neil live very comfortably with like 7 dogs and sal goes over there to get piled in them at least once a week. everyone loves to chill at their place and watch movies.

maple and chug take great care of each other. chug has high blood pressure and maple is diabetic and they still go dancing once a week. they got empty nest syndrome when soda moved out so they have a cat now.

soda has a complex relationship with her name, having trouble with it in her youth, but as an adult she becomes a bassist or something and owns it. her love of music is something she attributes to uncle sal.

maybe travis got the balls to cut off his dad and live his life, and when his dad died he got to piss on his grave. at least one of his sisters probably remains very religious, but they still visit each other frequently and have deliberately tried their hardest understand each other, and he has a much better relationship with them as an adult, especially after their father died, than they did growing up, and as far as they're all concerned, that's a win.

they've been listening to the same albums and making the same jokes for the past 25 years. they've both grown incredibly over the years and have also not changed one bit. the way they see it, they're living their lives to the fullest like this.

smart TVs make todd's skin crawl, larry still listens to tapes, chug is still the undefeated nockfell hotdog eating competition champion, and gizmo will never die through the power of love and believing it really hard.

the wold can be so beautiful. think about it.

[starbornneptune]

Hihi.. so you said you take requests, right? Sorry if it's too much to ask, but can you draw terukitty? (Cat teru) I rlly like your kitty mob drawing^^ and I just kinda wanted to see teruki in your style :]

ur wish is my command! i might redo it some at a later date since im not a huge fan but thisll work for now (＞人＜;) thanks for the support!!

obligatory bald teru joke..

pardon the differing quality im back in school so i had to rely on the good ole ipad instead of csp ((((；ﾟДﾟ)))))))

and a bonus dog teru from a different cat mob thing im probably not gonna post here 。。。