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[varunnehra]

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[prettyvintagehouse]

[leathergallery]

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[whateveriwant]

Beside

Simon was the perfect boyfriend, until he wasn't.

~1.2k words. Angst, mention of alcohol, mention of sex/18+. This is just a little something that was plunking around my mind.

Simon Riley, who met his younger, civilian girlfriend at a rundown pub one night. 

You noticed him the moment you entered your local dive, not just because he was a new, handsome face in the crowd, but because of an inherent magnetism that seemed to pull your gaze to him. Though he was a bit older than you were used to chatting with, that didn't stop you from accepting his offer of drinks when he approached you at the bar. And after sharing a few friendly pints and a few more-than-friendly touches, he ended up heading back with you to yours for the evening, and the rest, well, was history.

Now, it's been over eight months since you first got together, and you couldn't be happier. Simon is probably the best guy you've ever been with. He's kind, smart, funny as hell, and fucks you like no man ever has before. He really is the perfect guy for you, just with one small caveat: how rarely you get to see him.

Because of his job in the military, he's gone more often than he's in town. When he's not jetting off to God knows where, on average, you spend about a week with him each month; maybe a week and a half if you're lucky, though you rarely are. Hell, he's away so much that he doesn't even bother holding a permanent residence anywhere. His home is his little corner bunk on the base across town – the one you've still yet to visit, despite your asking. 

Naturally, you've tried floating the idea of having him move in with you permanently, but he's always assured you that he's content as is, that it'd be more stress than sense to relocate so far away from his work. 

And you understand, or at least, you try to see it from his point of view. Simon's always been a private guy – a man with no family or friends to speak of, apart from a few colleagues he's forced to interact with semi-regularly. His choice to not want to cohabitate is not an indicator of his feelings towards you. He simply likes having a little space purely to himself, that's all it is.

But even knowing that doesn't make it any easier of a pill for you to swallow. There's only so much that late night calls from private numbers can do or so many pretty gifts in the post that can fill the void Simon leaves whenever he's not around. He's there for you as much as he can be, you know that he is, but you just can't help that you still want more.

It's one night, about five weeks since you've last seen your boyfriend, that you decide to treat yourself to a little pick-me-up. You're at a store that's a bit out of the way compared to where you normally shop, but they have that cheese spread you really like, so it's worth the drive.

As you're mindlessly perusing the shelves, looking at everything and nothing in particular, a noise coming from the aisle over has your ears instantly perking up. That sound. You know that sound. The deep, rumbling timbre that almost has your knees buckling in the middle of the shop.

You follow the noise, sure your ears are mistaking you, but pause mid-step the moment you round the corner. There he is. Your boyfriend. In all his tall, strapping glory. You'd thought that was his voice seeping through the cracks between the shelves, but couldn't quite believe it since you didn't think he'd returned home yet.

You grin, overjoyed to see him, and take a step forward to approach. But just as soon as you move, you stop dead in your tracks, suddenly confused as you take in the scene ahead.

Simon's standing directly beside an overflowing trolley. But not just any trolley. One that holds two little boys, both looking not even old enough to attend school yet.

The sight has you stunned, the smile on your face faltering. Who are these children? And why is your boyfriend watching so closely over them? 

You're trying to decipher the situation from afar when another figure quickly grabs your attention. A woman, a few years older than yourself, walks up beside the trolley your boyfriend guards. Simon turns to look at the woman as she places something in the cart, a warm smile curving her mouth when he notices her. The children seem happy to see her return, and upon inspection, they appear to be her sons – the same hair, same eyes, same smile as they gaze up at her.

But the boys’ reaction is not what concerns you, what has your stomach twisting itself in tight knots. It's the way Simon reacts that leaves you stunned, that has you dumbstruck beyond all hope for redemption.

Simon, your boyfriend, smiles just as happily back at this woman. Simon, your boyfriend, gives her that look you’d only ever seen reserved for you. Simon, your boyfriend, reaches out to softly caress her cheek. And Simon, your boyfriend, leans forward, closing his eyes, until he's connecting his lips with hers.

A second passes, maybe five or six, where you just stand there, watching, unable to comprehend what you're seeing. Your mind feels like it’s firing at a million miles an hour, but it has nothing on how fast your heart is beating, threatening to bruise against your ribcage. 

After a moment, the two of them pull back, looking like a picture ripped right out of a catalog. The woman reaches up to brush some hair off Simon's forehead, a ring glinting on her fourth finger catching your eye with the movement. The oval cut diamond is especially blinding as she then drops her hand down to her middle. Your pupils pinpoint as she rubs her swollen belly, which can't be more than four months along, you'd wager.

As you look between them – the woman, the children, the man you've been with for months – slowly, so slowly you think your brain is made of wet cement, the pieces of the puzzle finally click together in your mind.

The realization makes you feel instantly lightheaded, thinking you're seconds away from emptying your stomach all over the shop’s freshly swept floor. Your throat slowly constricts, your hands beginning to shake, and before you can register what's happening, your basket of groceries falls to the ground with a clatter. 

The resounding noise draws the attention of all the nearby shoppers, including a pair of familiar brown eyes that immediately snap to yours. You lock eyes with Simon for just a second, before you're turning on your heel, abandoning your supplies in a scattered mess. 

Tears flood your vision as you flee the store, your body on autopilot as all you can think about is getting out of there. You're trembling as you fumble with your keys, dropping them twice as you bolt through the car park. When you finally reverse out of the lot, you don't even notice how a car or two honks their horn in warning. You hear nothing but the blood rushing through your ears, the static buzzing loudly around your skull. The voice in your head is shouting, absolutely screaming at the top of its lungs.

My God. My God. What have you done?

__________

A/N: Just so we’re clear, Simon Riley would never ever cheat. But for angsty fanfiction purposes, let’s pretend like he would, okay? Okay, cool. Anyway, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[pettyprocrastination]

Two Phantoms

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Summary: Simon sees a familiar face that doesn’t recognize him back. Kid!fic warning for those who do not enjoy them. 

Warning: nothing explicit but vague descriptions of violence, sex, and PTSD.

Word count: 1.2k

Authors note: This is purely a word vomit i did last night at 2am while thinking about Simon not being recognized by certain members of the 141 since they dont know what he actually looks like (ignoring the MW2 canon where he shows his face to them all) but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

_____

     There’s a struggle in the shift. Going from being Lieutenant of the 141 to being a civilian. From hunting down arms dealers through rain forests and balmy deserts while ignoring the pain in his body and ringing in his ears at the gunfire around him to stepping off of a plane at the Manchester airport and hailing a taxi. To go from a masked monster to a man who hails a taxi in the pouring rain and ignores the driver’s attempt at conversation, shoulders curling in so he can fit his bulk into the backseat with his bag on his lap.

     Going from Ghost to what remains of Simon Riley. 

     There’s no reason to wear a mask in public anymore. Nobody knows him. The spot he’s picked an apartment in is empty of those who remember little Simon and his brother Tommy, nor the tragedy that befell the family. They only know the man who doesn’t speak and only stays in his own apartment every few months but offers his neighbors a terse nod each time he catches their gaze in the hall. 

     If anything a mask would draw more attention to him in public. Nobody bats an eye at the tall man with dark eyes in the fruit aisle of the supermarket.

     Which is why when you see your Lieutenant in public you walk right by him without a second glance in his direction while he remains frozen in place. He isn’t sure why it's shocking to him. You get leave just the same as him. You have a home to return to, a life outside of the blood and shit of the missions where you take his orders with ease, where you leave your fatigues to wear a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie with a bleach stain on the back.

       Simon hasn’t seen it before. He knows it exists. That you exist outside of the 141, outside of him. A place where you don’t follow his command in the heat of gunfire and slip into his cot the night after when neither of you can sleep to find solace in each others arms and the marks he leaves on you. 

     But now he’s witnessed it with his own two eyes. In the form of two boxes of pancake mix in your shopping trolley and the sleeping baby in your arms as you try to decide between orange juice brands.

     “Quality is going to shit everywhere, isn’t it bubs?” 

     Simon is staring. He knows it but can’t look away. 

     It’s a duality he knows everybody has. He’s aware that Johnny goes home to Glasgow to visit his brother and gaggle of nieces and nephews that no doubt shriek with joy and hang of his arms every time he visits, asking a myriad of questions that the man answers with patience and kindness one only reserves for children. He knows that Gaz goes home to a small apartment and a girl two semesters away from getting her masters in psychology that Simon doesn’t know the name of but can tell from the way he tries to hide his smile that she’s important to him. Price goes back to an office where he goes over reports and budget plans in a chair that makes his back ache and knees pop every time he stands from it before driving to a house that was once filled with the raucous that can only be made by 15 year old boys that have since graduated college and only call him when its Christmas or his birthday. 

     It’s different to see. To set his eyes on the little curls on your child's head (is it your child? Maybe you're babysitting, a godchild perhaps? Nephew? He knows you aren’t married. There’s an absence of a wedding band nor the tan line that would come from the removal of one in all the years he’s known you.) and to witness the same hand he’s seen sink KA-Bar into the chest of an enemy move up and down, up and down on the little ones back while their fingers curled and uncurled into the fabric of your hoodie like a cat kneading a pillow. 

     Logic knocks in the back of his head when he realizes time has passed since he first saw you. And that if you didn’t recognize him then you definitely won’t recognize him when you turn around and realize he’s been staring at you and your baby without moving for a solid seven minutes in the middle of the juice aisle. 

     Just as his foot shifts to turn and pull him away from this peek into your life that he didn't know existed,  the little one in your arm stirs. A soft whine curls in the back of their throat as their chubby face scrunches up and eyes crack open to latch onto the man watching them back. 

     You still haven’t noticed him. You're far too busy swaying from side to side to keep the baby in your arms calm and checking a carton of eggs for cracks to see the man behind you that is now locked into what feels like a staring contest with an infant. 

     “It’s alright Sam.” Your voice, even when talking to a baby, has a dry clip to it that he knows so well. The same curl in ‘sir’ when he’s pissed you off and the rasp of your laugh at a dingey bar under Soap’s arm. “I’m almost done, okay? Then we can go back home and take a nice long nap.” 

     Sam babbles behind his pacifier and wiggles in your arms. 

     “Yeah, you and me both, little man.” 

     Brown eyes stare into his own from over your shoulder without shame or abandon. 

     He looks like you. 

     But even without your fatigues and your weapon, you’re still a soldier. They all are. 

     You feel it, his eyes on you like a soft tug in the back of your head. Your sister calls it paranoia, her husband says PTSD. 

     You aren’t sure which is better. But when you turn around you see a man standing behind you, an empty basket in his hand and sad eyes sinking into your form. 

     Sam whines. 

     You can feel the thread of recognition between your fingertips as you look at him if only for a moment, a split second of staring into his eyes and grasping for some memory from high school or perhaps a date years passed that never turned into a second because you were overseas, just barely able to feel the fraying strings in your hand before its gone. 

     “Sorry-” 

     Your sister says you get stuck in your own head too much anyways. 

     “-Didn’t mean to block the aisle.” 

     He should say something. Some small reassurance that it’s no problem or he didn’t mind waiting, but he just nods his head once and watches as the woman he’s been through hell with walks away from him without a flicker of realization of who you're talking to. 

     Sam watches him over your shoulder and raises one little hand out toward him, before wiggling it back and forth in goodbye. 

     Simon waves back as you turn into the cleaning aisle and vanish from his line of sight. 

[russellsppttemplates]

Papa loves you so much, princess (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N find out their family is growing

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy! I have been talking about this since January, so this is ver long overdue!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period and pregnancy

Getting up from the bed, you were fortunately quick enough to reach the bathroom in time to pour your guts out on the toilet, leaning on the toilet's side to support your torso. You were already up by the time Mick walked inside the bathroom, his sleepy expression with some traces of concern, "I told you I shouldn't have had that last piece of dessert", you pointed your finger at him through the mirror while you splashed your face, "you kept looking at it like you were a dog that was abandoned on the road, and then when I asked if you wanted my piece, I swear I saw happy tears in your eyes", your husband teased you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner, "do you want me to get you anything?", he asked, "just some cuddles in bed should do the trick", you muttered, allowing him to carry you back to the bed for a few more hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep.

.

After leaving work, you stopped by the grocery store since you and Mick had noticed you were running low and running out of a few items at home, "we just had a snack break and the next part of the meeting should be the last one, I'm sorry I'm not helping you", he said over the phone while you browsed the aisles, "it's okay, handsome. You can still help me out here, though. I'm the cleaning section and I already have dish soap and the spray for the wooden cabinets, anything else?", you asked, earning a negative answer from him, "no, that's all I think. Next is the bathroom one, right? We are running low on toilet paper, and I used the last plaster yesterday. You only had one box of tampons in the cabinet so given that you are about to have your period, see if you need more of them", he pointed out, grabbing your attention to the matter. It should have started by now, you checked the date on your watch. And you were never late.

"We also need those tissues you keep on your bedside table, I used some today and I noticed they were the last ones", you could hear the smile on his voice, "alright, bub. I'll see you at home, have a good meeting!", you dialed off, grabbing the things he mentioned before looking at the pharmacy section.

You were never late, so it had to be this, right? Barring any other health situations, all of your symptoms aligned with pregnancy symptoms: you had been nauseous, feeling sick (and maybe it wasn't the stolen dessert's fault), you kept falling asleep whenever you rested on the sofa at home and Corinna had complimented the way one of your summer dresses fitted you, claiming that the neckline looked beautiful on you. And you and Mick had been trying, not with a whole calendar but rather just not using protection and seeing where it led you, and maybe this was it. Grabbing two boxes for the sake of it, you put them in your shopping trolley before heading to the till to pay for everything so you could go home.

When Mick got home, dinner was already on the table while you also fed Angie her own dinner, his kiss on your forehead coming with an apology for having arrived just in time for it, "no need to apologise, myself and miss Angie kept ourselves busy", you petted her soft fur before heading to wash your hands, joining Mick at the table and enjoying the meal.

"Does it taste okay to you?", you asked Mick, the taste of the broccoli seemingly off to you, "yes, tastes like this dish always tastes. It's very good, why do you ask?", he questioned, "I don't know, tastes funny to me", you mumbled, using your fork and knife to push the green vegetable to the edge of your plate, "maybe you got a bad one", he noted. That was another symptom, you thought, remembering when one of your friends couldn't eat her favourite meal while she was pregnant because she claimed it tasted different.

"Actually, I've been having a few symptoms, and they are all compatible with-", you were interrupted by your husband, "pregnancy", he smiled, seeing your brushed and stunned face, "I've noticed them too. You haven't told me you are craving your usual sweets when you're on your period, your boobs look even more amazing but the moment I so much as graze my finger in the skin you hiss because of the pain, you're not one to take naps during the day but the moment your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, and it's not common for you to have a bad stomach", he reasoned, making you blush even harder, "Why didn't you say something though?", you asked softly.

Mick shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't want to burden you, or maybe I was keeping my hopes up and I didn't want to ruin yours, or point out something about your body like that, I'd never want to do so in a way that could be harmful", he answered apologetically, making your get up and go sit on his lap, "you could've said something, I wouldn't be offended, I think anyway, apparently pregnant women get mood swings so I can't speak for sure", you shrugged your shoulders, "truth is, I got some pregnancy tests at the store today because I also thought the same thing, but I wanted to do them with you", you looked at him, "but I don't know how to deal with this hope, like, I could just have some bug, but it is also true that everything checks out...", you fiddled and played with his fingers, "we take it step by step, if you'd like", your husband began softly, "and if you're not pregnant, we can keep trying", he explained, grabbing your hand once you nodded, heading to the bathroom so you could do the tests.

The plastic sticks were on the counter, Angie lying on the bathroom floor while Mick sat on the edge of the tub wirh you on his lap, "just a little bit more, liebling", he kissed the side of your head, "I'm sorry", you whispered, gaining his questioning look, "if I'm not pregnant, I got both of our hopes up for nothing", you explained, feeling his fingers lift your chin up to look into his eyes, "no need to apoligise, liebling. We just keep trying, it's not like we mind trying", he winked, looking at his watch to see the time was up, "I'm ready when you are", he said soflty.

You got up, picking up the sticks and seeing that both of them had the same information, "it won't be trying for a baby, but I've heard that sex while you're pregnant is a whole another level of sensations", you smiled at Mick, showing him the positive results.

"We're having a baby?", Mick mumbled, still not sure if he had grasped what you said in the right way, "we are, baby Schumacher is going to be here in nine months", you cried out, smiling as Mick cuddled you, his arms circling your before spinning you, "Angie! You're going to be a big sister!", Mick said once he put you down.

.

"I remember reading about these old wives' that help you guess the gender of the baby, and your grandmother did some on me for both of you and they turned out pretty accurate, I think", Corinna said as she sat in the outdoor sofa in front of you.

Since Gina was visiting, you and Mick decided to invite her and Corinna to spend the day together, Angie sitting next to her auntie while you sat next to Mick, "Oh, that would be fun!", Gina said as she straightened her back, picking up her phone so she could look them up on the Internet while Corinna started with the ones she knew, "they say that if you have a pointed belly towards the front, it means you're having a boy, and if you have a rounder bump and wider hips, it means it's a baby girl", she said, seeing Mick quickly ask for you consent before he helped you stand as he lifted your t-shirt, "what do we think? Pointy or not so much?", you did a turn around yourself, "I think it's rounder", Mick said earning a nod from his mother, "me too", Gina said, "but I've always had wider and rounder hips", you tried to reason as Gina wrote girl and a stick next to it to help count.

"The next one was that sweet cravings were sign of a baby girl, and salty cravings were sign of a baby boy", and Mick wiped the smug smile off his face, "I've been eating a lot of savoury stuff", you nudged your husband while his sister wrote down the tie.

Gina opened the lunar calendar on her phone while the four of you looked at all the details they asked for, "it's a girl according to this one!", Mick yelled way too close to your ear, "another point for babygirl then", you said, cuddling back to his side and giggling at everyone's exciting.

You saw and tested a couple more and, without realising it, you tried the last one without noticing it was the last, only for it to make another tie between babyboy and babygirl, "so that's it?", Mick said, not expecting it to turn out like this, "you just have to wait and see, you know, like all the people do because you can know for sure on the ultrasound", Gina teased him.

.

Once you got to the OB/GYN, Mick offered to go get you checked in at the desk while you went to find a comfortable chair to sit in while you waited, "final bet: are they a baby boy or a baby girl?", Mick said once he sat down with you, his hand holding yours to calm down your nervous thoughts. The ultrasounds always made you nervous, always wondering if everything was alright and as it should be, so having Mick there to support you and distract you was appreciated, "I think they're a baby boy, and he looks like his papa", you cradled his cheek on your palm, "I think they're a baby girl, and she has your kindness and empathy. It's just my gut feeling", he smiled, kissing the top of your head while he moved your conjointed hands to rest on your bump, feeling the baby kick, "not my chubby cheeks?", you playfully gasped, "what can I say? I think the Schumacher genes are much too strong", he teased you, looking up to the door when your name was called.

Entering the room and greeting your doctor, she asked you a couple of questions before asking you to lay on the little bed, the gel cold on your bump as she moved the wand around, "okay, everything looks good, strong heartbeat for little one and mother as well", she smiled, "I can see it. Do you still want to know?", she asked one last time, earning a nod from both you and Mick, "you're going to have a baby girl, congratulations!", she announced.

Your hand squeezed Mick's, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both looked at your baby on the screen, "we're having a little girl? Liebling, it's a little girl", he said, his eyes tearing up as he kept looking at the screen. Despite having feelings and guesses about it, neither of you didn't have any preference, feeling happy just with the idea that you were carrying a combination of you and Mick, but you couldn't help but get all goddy as you imagined Mick with a little daughter, knowing she would have him wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. Even thinking now, she has him wrapped around her finger since you both found out you were pregnant.

"She looks good, there isn't anything that looks concerning. The measurements are all within the norm, everything looks good. Congratulations, mama and papa!", she smiled, "do you want copies to take home?".

While she went to get the slightly exaggerated number of copies of baby Schumacher (Mick wanted everyone that was important in his life to have one), your husband helped you clean the skin on your bump, "are you happy?", you looked at him, not seeing any signs of uneasiness but feeling his a little bit tense, "I am, liebling", he said, "but she's going to be here soon, you know? Little one is growing so fast, I can't believe we're past the half way point", he admitted, "I just don't want to disappoint any of you", he gulped, making you craddle his face with your hands, "My love, I know you and believe me, if how everything has gone until now is any indicator, we are going to have princess treatment", you smiled softly on an attempt to calm him, "thank you for sharing this with me, though. You can always share your worries with me, Mick", you finished, kissing his lips passionately, "I love you, liebling", he kissed you back, "and you little one, papa loves you so much, princess".

[helpforintrusivethoughts]

Resources 🌼

(Updated regularly)

🪷 Emergency resource: oh no I’m having a bad thought

🌻 Apps and Games

Finch: mental health app where you care for a little bird! Offers many features such as focus timers, rant zones, nature sounds, fun questions, and more! You can even make friends on it and send them encouragement :) (my friend code)

Adorable Home: a precious game in which you have a tiny spouse, cats, and a little house you can decorate! You can check in and enjoy peaceful music, different scenes, and upgrades through collecting tiny hearts you earn through easy tasks! A truly adorable and relaxing game!

Seashine: a game set underwater in which you guide a tiny luminescent jellyfish through the abyss. Beautiful, relaxing music and distant whale noises; some scary enemies, so if you have thalassophobia this might not be the one for you. Very calming otherwise though, and the creator is coming out with an enemy-free version soon in which you can just float around to the music!

Cat Snack Bar: an adorable app where you operate different business venues with the help of chubby, adorable cats! You check in periodically to collect money and update your venue, but otherwise it doesn't require much brain power. A very cute game to help you relax!

Webtoon: a comic app that allows you to browse thousands of creative and often relaxing webcomics!

1010!: a fun little game where you match up blocks. Fairly simple and satisfying, and you can update your backgrounds to fun designs!

Papa's Cupcakeria: a relaxing and satisfying game where you make cupcakes! And of course there’s a whole series of games in the Papa Louie universe to choose from that are fun and happy :)

🪸 Fun Websites

Neal.fun: features many creative pages you can visit such as— a stack of movable rocks, a page that shows how deep the ocean really goes, who was alive [insert year], draw logos from memory, and more!

WindowSwap: lets you go through windows around the world! You can log in and save your favorites, and make it fullscreen if you need to study and want a nice thing in the background to keep you from distractions.

mrdoob.com: a wacky website with lots of fun features you can draw and mess around with

boredbutton: for when you're bored out of your mind and want a pointless website to mess with!

theuselessweb.com: takes you to a completely useless website, such as a page where it rains corndogs or a page where you can create different forms of art.

ashortjourney.com: lets you take a small and beautifully drawn trip on a trolley and pick up/drop off tiny creatures!

Forestopia: allows you to explore images of forests and the things inside, with background forest noises!

boredpanda.com: full of memes, funny stories, and more!

listverse: contains many lists, some horrifying (so be warned for those) and some just fascinating!

🍄 Focus Sites and Playlists

rainymood.com: a site/app that lets you listen to rain for as long as you want!

asoftmurmur.com: lets you listen to a variety of sounds like rain, thunder, or a fire!

Open ocean: 10 hours of underwater videography of a spot in the ocean!

imissmycafe.com: site that lets you listen to the noises of a coffee shop! You can change the different noises too :)

Secret Forest Playlist: peaceful music; 2 hours

Rain on Leaves on a Forest Road in Autumn: rain in the woods; 10 hours

Haunted Village Halloween Ambience: eerie but quiet music; 3 hours

Relaxing Autumn/Fall Forest: sounds of wind, crows, songbirds, and creaking trees; 7 hours

Chill Beats for Worldbuilding and Writing: Fabulous lofi music; 1 hour

It's Just a Dream/Dreamcore: Very peaceful and ambient music; 4 hours

Autumn Acoustic: Autumn inspired songs; 5 hours

Sad Piano Music: beautiful piano pieces by Jurrivh; 6 hours

The Most Relaxing Waves Ever: beach noises; 8 hours

Rural Autumn Ambience and Music: gentle autumn-y music; 1 hour

Yanni: a playlist of beautiful word-free music by Yanni

pov- you're a pirate: a pirate-themed playlist for inspiration

soft music for the end of the world: soft instrumental pieces

autumn: Autumn-themed songs; 5 hours

Have your own recommendations? Drop a comment or ask!

[simstorian-blog]

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size:  30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2  (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

@just-agirl-in-thisworld

Getting home was undoubtedly the best news Luca had heard in weeks since he had been stuck in the hospital and the adult social services had supplied him with aids around the house to help him while he recovered, like a raised toilet seat, bars to hold onto to get up and down, a trolley on wheels so he could bring food and drinks from the kitchen into the living room and other gadgets that would help. He knew most of the aids were often used in the elderly care facilities when patients struggled physically or were recovering from falls and broken hips, which technically he had done along with his leg. As Blair promised, she arrived to take him home and he was more than ready to get out of there, unshaven but washed and dressed in shorts and a tshirt on the edge of the bed so he could literally hop out the door in case they decided to keep him for something else. One thing that was driving him crazy with embarrassment was the fact that a medication they had given him had a horrible side effect or a blessed side effect for some spontaneous erections and they were painful. He had often had to cover himself or hide himself from the nurses and doctors who knew but acted oblivious. But he was ready to go home. He was more than ready to go home.

[goqmir]

if you want to be a chef in this day and age you have to want to fuck the food. it used to be that you could get away with just desiring food-related sex-- in western saloons in the late 1800s, for instance, there were often gouges in the floorboards leading from the cook's favorite lovemaking bedroom in the inn to the nightly spot laid out for the salad bar trolley. Now, though, you have to have sexual urges about the food itself. If you don't, you will be easily outclassed by those overworked bakers who stop for condoms on the way home after they score some extra jelly-filled pastries from work, or the Michelin star chefs who have hours of mac and cheese stirring ASMR saved in a YouTube playlist. They simply want the food more than you do. Every chef with a decent career in the fine dining world has that not-so-hidden secret. If you can afford it, expensive dishes usually have wonderful texture-- just ask Gordon Ramsey and his fridge full of crab puffs-- but if you can't, I would recommend first starting out with something affordable you can easily keep on hand, with little preparation time and a decent texture. Of course, not all beginning chefs follow this advice-- a lot of dedicated chefs attempt to start fucking the food after learning about this subculture, leading to an alarming number of juice fetishists in the sous chef workforce. Unfortunately, many learn too late that you need substance in your food-- some decent texture to rub against-- or you won't get the same experience with food you need in the industry. By that time, of course, the juice kink has set in-- if you see a sous chef pouring apple cider into a pot of mac and cheese, you don't have to ask what it's adding to the flavor profile. A lot of popular picks are easy to reheat in the microwave, not quick to perish, and give a decent enough texture to be satisfying. A common pick is simply bread; filled donuts offer a pleasant pocket and satisfying orgasms; muffins are thick enough where working a hole from its bottom to its top is not only possible, but expected; almost all of the kitchen staff at Red Lobster leaves for the night with a few extra-soft biscuits in their bags. Others have more interesting taste: melty cheeses, the pointiest carrots and pineapples, the claws of lobsters, the most decadent helpings of whipped-cream topped parfaits. This all works fine for a number of years, until you notice your skill as a chef starting to plateau. Many chefs simply stay in this zone, as well enough preparers living happy lives at good jobs. But the best chefs, the headliners, those who prepare the best meals the world has to offer... they take it to the next level. They spend a good, long time preparing the dish they are covering in their cum up to four nights a week. Hours of baking, broiling, dirtied pots and pans. The food preparation is like foreplay, one of the most creative parts of sex and cooking alike. A good chef gets hotter with the pasta in the pot, sizzles along with the eggs in the pan, finds themselves on edge with each slice of the potato into the crock. Until finally, hours into the night, cock hard like a lamppost, after dicking down that beautifully prepared pasta frittata since the sun was still up, they orgasm all across its gorgeous pasta fillings and creamy cheesey insides and finally Understand food. After learning all of this, you may be tempted to go down to your neighborhood spot and ask the chef what they do to deepen the connection between themselves and their meals. Of course, if the neighborhood spot happens to be a bar, you'll probably actually have a line cook-- where instead, you should probably ask what they like most about putting their cigarettes out on twinks.

[prettyvintagehouse]

[leathergallery]

Shop our latest additions in-store or online from

Antilia Coffee Table – Set of 2: R8,499.00

Prestige Bar Trolley: R4,999.00

Enhance your home with our latest arrivals: the Antilia Coffee Table Set and Prestige Bar Trolley!

The Antilia Coffee Table features a stunning gold stainless steel base and a sleek round mirror top that beautifully reflects light, offering versatile glamour.

Designed with a nesting feature, these tables can be stacked or separated, making them perfect for any living space, big or small.

The Prestige Bar Trolley, available in luxurious gold and sleek silver colours, combines stylish functionality with a durable metal framework and spacious glass shelves for your favourite drinks and accessories.

Its convenient handles and smooth wheels make entertaining effortless, while the unique overlapping triangle design creates a striking diamond shape that adds visual interest to any setting.

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[velchronica]

the little things ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ blue lock

he’s not the best at the whole ‘talking about your feelings’ thing, or at least not the romantic side of it, but he loves you in subtle ways of his own

content: fluff, established relationship, aged up characters, gn!reader, sfw

wc: 0.8k

he typically walks fast. he takes quick, long strides and seems to cover twice the walking mileage that most people do in the same amount of time. damn him and his long legs.

but while he very much can walk that fast, and it’s probably more comfortable for him, he doesn’t. instead, he strolls idly by your side, fingers intertwined, without a care in the world. if he begins to pace ahead, he notices almost immediately, and slows back down, his footsteps matching your own.

you don’t even realise he does it, because his expression remains completely deadpan. you don’t notice his quick glance down at the pavement, or how naturally he falls into step with you. never straying too far from your side has become second nature to him. after all, he belongs with you, although it’s way too embarrassing to tell you that out loud. he’s not the verbally romantic type to begin with, so don’t expect him to go around broadcasting stuff like that.

when you’re out buying groceries at the store together, he sneaks in more of your favourite snacks to buy, even when you’ve sufficiently stocked up on them in the cart. even if he hates your favourite food—whether it’s the smell, the texture or just the taste itself that he despises so vehemently—the last thing he’ll do is deprive you of it. you shouldn’t feel obligated to not get the stuff you want just because he doesn’t like it.

while you’re browsing the aisles, he makes sure you’re always within his field of view, lest you get lost looking for a specific item. when you reach the refrigerated sections, he comes up behind you as you push the trolley together, his hands over yours on the handle bar, huddled up like penguins. he doesn’t want to see you shivering in the cold, even for a minute, and he doesn’t care if people give them odd looks as you point out a product from between his arms and the trolley.

and when you get to the counter and gasp, fretting that you’ve forgotten something, he sighs and almost rolls his eyes, but he still goes running to grab it before you get to the front of the queue. he runs like he’s on the pitch, sprinting past broke college students, off-work corporate workers, elderly couples, newlyweds, parents with brooding teenagers—everyone in the supermarket. everybody’s now openly gawking at the renowned footballer running through the store like he’s headed for the winning goal of the world cup, trainers squeaking against the tiled floor. he snatches two bottles of scented detergent from the shelf before turning on his heel and immediately heading back to you at record speed.

though he didn’t even break a sweat, and made it back to you with incredible haste, his heart flutters when you grin, taking the bottles from his hands and placing them on the conveyor belt. “i’m lucky to have you, aren’t i?” you laugh as he grumbles, taking you into his arms. “thanks, darling.”

and when he’s running late back from practice, he thinks of you as he’s driving home and pulls into the parking lot of your favourite coffee shop. he knows your order down to the smallest details of the random extras you like to ‘spice up’ your drink, so he orders that alongside a snack he knows you’ll like before heading back to the car.

upon hearing him unlock the door, you immediately get up to greet him and help take his stuff off him to put away. propping yourself up on your tiptoes to give him his daily welcome home kiss, you are pleasantly surprised by him handing over your freshly-made order. you resist the urge to tackle him, since he’s in the process of taking his shoes off at the door, so instead you opt for throwing yourself at him and smothering him with kisses, which is still an affectionate assault, but shhhh, neither of you are complaining.

“you didn’t have to, baby,” you say, beaming, “but thank you.”

he fails miserably at hiding his flushed cheeks. “it’s only ‘cos i feel bad keeping you waiting for me at home.”

“not ‘cos you love me, then?” you harrumph, pouting playfully, only for him to slither his arms around you and wrap you up in a bear hug.

“well, that too,” he relents, clicking his tongue.

“would you be willing to say it yourself, then?” you tease.

“no.”

“please?”

“(y/n).”

“mhm? alright, then,” you say, wryly, playfully prying him off you. “i see how it is.” you turn to walk away when he pulls you back into him, not done with you yet. he buries his face in your shoulder, the action muffling the embarrassing confession that he begrudgingly allows you the privilege of hearing.

“love you.”

you grin. “i love you too, baby.”

— ITOSHI RIN, (wc!)kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae, NAGI SEISHIRO, barou shoei + your fav!

© velchronica 2024

[hamsterclaw]

Foolish

You keep going back to Namjoon, it's what you've always done. Then you meet Hoseok, who draws you away like he's not even trying.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader, Namjoon x F! reader

Word count: 7.7k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: Sex, fuckboy Namjoon

Everytime, you tell yourself it’s the last time you’ll come back to Kim Namjoon.

Everytime it’s just one last time.

His hand leaves a print on your hip, his lips leave a trail down your neck, across your breasts. He often comes on your skin, a trail of white. He marks you everywhere he sees fit.

He doesn’t give a shit who sees. 

You let him do what he wants.

Rinse, repeat.

Namjoon nudges you. ‘Hey, I have an early class.’

You don’t bother to respond, just get out of his bed, put your clothes back on.

You check you’ve got your phone, your keys, smooth your hair back down as you wait for the cab.

You let yourself out.

***

Your friend Jimin is funniest when he’s annoyed, like now.

You’re both working a shift at the grocery store.

He’s leaning on the stacked crates, supposed to be refilling the produce shelves but really just taking up room.

‘And so then he clicked his fingers and expected me to walk to him, like a dog.’

You have no idea if this is a sex story or a rude customer story. 

Knowing Jimin, it could be either.

You start arranging the apples onto the display shelves as you listen to Jimin’s hilariously petty reaction.

It was a sex story.

Jimin stacks packs of cherry tomatoes beside you, chattering away.

You mmm and aaah at the right times, but your mind is elsewhere.

You’re thinking back to how the last few times you’ve met up, Namjoon hasn’t bothered to ask you to text him when you got home after being at his.

He used to. 

There’s a thin thread of shame that tugs at you whenever you meet him now, and the pull’s getting stronger.

It wasn’t always like this. 

He’d pursued you, coming into the diner where you worked weekend after weekend for months, flirting with you over pancakes until he’d finally asked you out.

You went on a few dates, and a few more and then somehow you’d slipped into what you have now.

He texts you when he’s horny and you come over.

Sometimes you don’t even talk. 

You don’t know why you keep coming back, apart from that maybe you haven’t quite moved on from seeing him as the guy who was sweet to you over brunch. The one who dimpled and invited you to come hang at his place and took you to the park and got you ice-cream.

You wonder how he sees you now.

You snap back to attention when Jimin clears his throat pointedly.

‘You don’t have to listen to me, it’s fine,’ he says, bordering on dramatic, pout in his voice.

‘Sorry Jiminie,’ you say apologetically. ‘I was thinking about Namjoon.’

Jimin has no idea about how things are between you and Namjoon. There’s no way you’d ever let anyone really know how low your bar is set.

He finishes stacking the cherry tomatoes, moves on to the heads of broccoli. 

You’re still on apples.

You wheel the empty crates back to the stockroom, concentrating so hard on not letting the crates slip that you don’t see the guy by the automatic doors.

‘Whoa!’ he says, stepping out of the way quickly, laughing.

You’re mortified, already apologising as you come to a dead stop. The crates wobble dangerously and you reach out, letting out a little cry as your fingers get clipped in between.

You yank your hand away, and the guy hurries forward. He grabs your hand, a look of concern darkening his face.

‘Are you ok? That must have hurt so much!’

You’re taken aback by how genuinely concerned he seems to be.

‘I’m ok,’ you say, as he rubs your fingers gently.

‘I have some support plasters,’ he offers. 

‘I’m ok!’ you insist, waving him away gently.

He takes the trolley from you and stacks the crates in the corner. 

‘Sorry to startle you,’ he says warmly. ‘My name is Hoseok, I’m new.’

His smile is infectious. You tell him your name, and he exclaims over how pretty he thinks your name is, even though it’s a fairly common one, as far as names go.

You’re amused by his charmingly over the top reactions. 

Hoseok helps you load the greens onto your trolley, insists on pushing it with you to the fresh section of the store. 

‘Don’t you have your own work to do?’ you ask. 

He grins at you like he’s sharing a secret. ‘The broken oven got fixed so it’s taking me less time to bake the bread rolls,’ he confesses. 

He reaches up for the hairnet over his hair, pulls it off and stuffs it into his pocket. ‘Does this make my hair flat?’ 

You look up at his very soft and fluffy looking dark hair. ‘Your hair looks great,’ you tell him, honestly. 

‘Come by later on your break, I’ll save some rolls for you. I made some fillings last night to bring to work.’ 

His offer is so sincerely and sweetly made that you find yourself responding in kind. 

‘Sure, I’d love to,’ you say. 

He parks your trolley by the shelves, and gives Jimin a big smile in greeting. 

You’ve never met anyone who smiles this much. 

Jimin lifts a crate of cabbages and starts arranging. 

‘What’s his deal?’ you ask, after Hoseok waves jauntily at you and walks away. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. ‘He’s just a nice guy. People can be nice.’ 

‘No one’s that nice,’ you say, frowning. 

‘Hoseok is. I’ve known him since way back.’ 

‘He must have a dark side,’ you mutter. 

‘Yeah. He’s apparently an asshole in bed.’ 

You choke on air. 

Jimin laughs at your reaction. ‘I’ve never slept with him but apparently he’s mean in bed.’ 

‘Like mean, how?’ you ask, more interested than you’d like to admit to yourself. 

‘Why are you so interested?’ Jimin asks, slyly. 

‘You brought it up,’ you argue. 

Jimin laughs and refuses to say anything else and you pretend you’re not that interested anyway. 

***

You’re awakened by your phone vibrating under your pillow. 

You fish it out and stare at the number on the screen that’s evaded your caller ID. 

Eventually you swipe to answer. 

‘Hi,’ you say. 

‘Hey,’ says a vaguely familiar voice. ‘It’s Hoseok. Jimin gave me your number.’ 

Your eyes open all the way, and you sit up so quickly you drop your phone into your duvet. 

It takes you a moment to fish it out. 

‘Hey, sorry, I dropped my phone,’ you say, when you’ve got it back. 

‘I’m sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he says. 

It’s weird, you barely know him but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

‘It’s fine, I should be up anyway,’ you reply. 

‘Ah, sorry, I didn’t know you’d still be asleep.’ 

You check the time. Eeep. 

‘What’s up, Hoseok?’ you ask. 

‘I was wondering - do you like music? There’s a festival in Olympic Park today and I have a spare ticket and I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’ 

You blink, surprised. 

‘I know it’s short notice,’ he says, when you don’t say anything for a bit. 

‘No, I’d like to go. I’m free and easy.’ 

You slap a hand to your forehead, wondering why you sound like such an idiot. 

‘I mean, I don’t have plans today.’ 

He sounds like he’s smiling again. ‘Ok. Meet you there?’ 

***

You look around for Hoseok when you get to the park, but he doesn’t keep you waiting. 

He approaches you, smiling and bright in a yellow and black parka, sunglasses shading his eyes. 

‘I brought snacks,’ he tells you cheerfully. ‘Thanks for agreeing to come with me.’ 

His manner is so relaxed and easy that you feel any awkwardness slip away. 

The sun’s warm on your bare shoulders, Hoseok’s a nice guy, and he’s got the prettiest smile you’ve seen in a while. 

You smile back at him. ‘I’m glad I came,’ you reply. 

He holds out his arm, and you link yours with his. 

It turns out Hoseok’s just as charming when he’s tipsy. 

You’ve been drinking beer with him in the sunshine all day. 

He blinks at you sleepily in the late evening sun as the last of the bands plays on the main stage. 

He’s stretched out on the grass, face tipped to the sky. His profile is beautiful, all sharp angles accentuated by the height of his cheekbones. 

‘You shouldn’t have let me finish off the beer,’ he tells you. 

‘Oh no, are you too drunk?’ you ask lazily, laying down next to him, watching the clouds swirl in the late summer sky. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he admits finally. ‘I was nervous and I drank too much.’ 

‘Nervous?’ This is news to you. 

‘You’re very pretty,’ he informs you. ‘In case you didn’t know.’ 

‘You’re pretty too,’ you tell him. 

He nods. ‘I know. But you’re prettier.’ 

This is the most ridiculous conversation you’ve had in a while, but somehow you don’t mind it.

You close your eyes briefly, and turn your head to see Hoseok looking at you intently. 

‘Why are you nervous?’ you ask. 

‘I want you to like me,’ he says, with an honesty that steals your breath. 

‘Because?’ 

‘Because I think I could like you a lot.’ 

‘How much?’ 

You’re leaning over him slightly, too close for your intentions to be anything but clear. 

Hoseok’s eyes drop to your lips. 

‘A hell of a lot,’ he says. 

In the end it’s Hoseok who initiates the kiss, one hand coming up to slip around the back of your neck. 

He’s gentle but firm, lips pressing against yours, tilting his head to kiss you deeper. 

You put your hand on his chest, and his own comes up to cover it. 

When you pull away he lets out a soft sound of protest. 

You’re smiling at each other like idiots, his hand still over yours on his chest. 

The sun’s dropped low enough to cast shadows over his face. 

‘I’ll take you home, ok?’ he says. 

He packs up the picnic he made that you’ve been picking at all afternoon, slips his jacket over your shoulders, and walks you out of the park. 

Darkness falls as you walk the few blocks home, adding a layer of distance between you, helping with your self-consciousness as, swaddled in his soft jacket, you realise just how attractive you find Hoseok. 

You stop at the entrance to your building, and Hoseok looks up. 

‘I had a nice time. See you next week?’ 

You’re slipping off his jacket, pressing it into his arms. ‘Thank you for asking me out,’ you tell him. 

There’s a moment because you haven’t fully ended your sentence, and he looks like he’s waiting for the next thing you were about to say. 

‘Do you want to come up?’ you ask. 

Hoseok’s eyes study your face. 

‘Honestly, I’d love to, but I shouldn’t.’ 

Like your goodbye, it seems open ended, like there’s more he would say if you waited long enough. 

Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your dress. 

‘I should go,’ you say. 

Hoseok nods. 

He waits until you’re up the steps, in the door, before he leaves. 

***

Namjoon’s got his mouth open, nibbling at your neck. God, he feels good, teeth grazing your skin, tongue licking. 

His hands are tucked in his pockets still, he hasn’t touched you even though you’re straddling his lap. 

You lean back a little, ask, ‘hey, like my new dress?’ 

You curse yourself for your moment of weakness but the words are already out. 

Namjoon raises a brow. ‘Thought you didn’t care what I thought.’ 

He’s referring to a fight you once had, when you were dating. 

‘Yeah,’ you say, regretting asking. 

You look at each other for a moment. 

‘I should go.’ 

‘You just got here,’ Namjoon says, mildly. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you climb off his lap, hands tucked in his pockets still. 

‘I don’t think we should do this anymore,’ you say, forcing yourself to look him in the face. 

‘You mean, fuck,’ Namjoon asks. His voice has its usual husky tone, but there’s a coolness to it now. 

‘Yeah, fuck,’ you say. 

Namjoon shrugs. ‘Sure. If that’s really what you want.’ 

He stands, and you’ve spent so much time horizontal with him lately you’d forgotten how tall he is. 

He reaches down to take your hand. 

‘You want me to tell you that you’re pretty?’ he asks. 

‘No,’ you answer, but you don’t pull your hand away. 

‘Look how hard I am,’ he tells you. He presses your hand over his erection. 

‘That’s just biology,’ you say. 

Namjoon scoffs. ‘It’s my biological response to having you grinding in my lap.’ 

He strokes up your arm. ‘Can I convince you to stay?’ 

‘Why would I stay?’ you ask, but you still haven’t moved. 

Namjoon tugs the strap of your bra, leans down to mouth at your collarbones. His big hand curls around your back to steady you as he kisses your neck. 

‘I don’t know, baby, do you want the happy ending or do you just want me to make you happy tonight?’ 

He sucks at your skin, and you get the familiar rush of pleasure pain you get when he marks you. 

‘We’re not going out, are we?’ 

His hand slides down your ass, cupping you, pulling you taut against his groin. 

‘I’m not your boyfriend.’ 

He’s walking you back into his bedroom, onto his bed. He pushes you back against the covers, hand behind your head to cushion you even though it’s soft. 

‘We’re not getting married.’ 

His words are brutal in their honesty, and still you don’t push him away. 

He tugs your panties down impatiently, rumbling his approval when he feels how wet you are. 

‘But I make you like this,’ he says, fingers slipping inside you, thumb circling your clit. 

‘Namjoon,’ you say, a warning. 

He gives you a look so heated you lose your train of thought. 

He hasn’t, though. 

He grabs your thigh, pulls you down to the edge of the bed so he can keep leaning over you. 

‘What, am I wrong?’ he taunts. 

His fingers are stroking, scissoring inside you. He’s still gripping your thigh with his free hand. 

He squeezes your thigh. 

‘Am I wrong? Didn’t I get you wet like this?’ he asks. He scoffs. ‘Of course I did. Just like you got me this hard.’ 

He slides a hand over himself, grinding into his palm. 

‘Just fuck me, Namjoon,’ you say. The pleasure’s building, making you tighten around his fingers. 

‘I’ll fuck you,’ he promises. ‘Just as long as we’re clear that there’s no feelings involved.’ 

He stops touching himself, wraps his hand around your neck, tight. 

You moan, and he laughs. 

‘You’re so easy to please, baby,’ he says, mocking. ‘If I fuck you now you’ll come, won’t you?’ 

‘I hate you,’ you spit out. 

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t even think you’re convincing yourself.’ 

He yanks his jeans down, and he’s in you in one movement. 

He groans as he bottoms out inside you, slams his hand down on the bed beside your head. 

‘So fucking tight,’ he utters. ‘Who got you like this?’ 

He’s not waiting for an answer, rocking into you, balls slapping your ass with every firm thrust. 

It’s just as well, you don’t think you could answer him anyway.

Namjoon fucks you good, it’s what he always does. 

***

You’re cleaning up a spillage in the detergent aisle when Hoseok walks past. 

‘Hey,’ he says, looking pleased to see you. ‘How are you?’ 

‘I’m good,’ you say, returning his smile. 

He’s in a standard issue blue polo shirt emblazoned with the store logo today, unlike the baggy fleeces you’re used to seeing him in. 

You try not to stare at his exposed arms.

‘What are you doing after work today?’ he asks.

He takes the mop from you and wrings it into the bucket, then picks it up. 

‘I’ll take this,’ he says, his tone brooking no argument. ‘It’s heavy.’

‘I don’t have plans,’ you say.

Hoseok beams. ‘I’m going to support my friend at this club night. Want to join me?’

‘What does your friend do?’ you ask, walking with him to the cleaning supplies closet.

‘He raps,’ Hoseok tells you. He grins. ‘I rap sometimes too.’

You see it. He’s got a rasp to his voice sometimes, an easy cadence to his words. 

Somehow the idea of him as a rapper makes sense.

‘So, you want to come with?’ he asks.

‘I’d like to,’ you tell him.

He looks so pleased about it that it makes you feel brighter too.

‘Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at 8, ok?’

He saunters off with a cheerful wave.

You realise you’re looking forward to it.

***

There’s not a lot of space between you and Hoseok at this tiny club, he’s been leaning over you for most of the night.

Somehow your arm’s found its way around his waist, and you find you like having him this close.

Hoseok’s lips brush your cheek gently, and your heart pounds. This close, his eyelashes are long, his eyes beautiful, the line of his jaw irresistible. He looks so good. 

You turn your head, chase his lips. He gives in with a willingness that makes your confidence soar. Like he’s wanted you this whole night and now he doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

His lips are soft, but the way he kisses you is firm, chest towards yours, hand curled around the top of your hip bone. He kisses you like he knows better than you what you’ll like, and he’s got every intention of following through. 

You haven’t got any interest in the next act, but as soon as you hear the voice, your eyes open. 

Hoseok murmurs a little, pulls you closer into his chest. 

You look up at the stage, and there, so close you can see the tic in his jaw as he takes in you and Hoseok, so intimately intertwined, is Namjoon. 

***

‘This is my friend Namjoon,’ Hoseok says, after the set’s over. 

Namjoon uses the towel around his neck to wipe his face, but he’s still out of breath, slick with sweat. 

He tilts his head at you, dimples like it’s the first time you’ve met. Says nothing. 

‘We’ve met,’ you say. 

You’re a little away from the stage, far enough that you can hear each other over the next act. 

‘Yeah, we’ve met,’ Namjoon confirms. 

Hoseok regards you both with interest. He’s a nice guy, but he’s no fool. 

You say, ‘That was a great set, Namjoon.’

‘Yeah?’ asks Namjoon. He pops the cork on a bottle of Dom, pours it out. Watches as you drink, a smirk on his lips.

You’re watching Hoseok.

‘How do you and Hobi know each other?’ Namjoon asks. He lays back, knees spread, thigh nudging yours. 

‘We work together,’ you reply. You turn to Hoseok, but the smile freezes on your lips when you see his expression, the way he’s looking at Namjoon.

You want to touch him but the tense set of his shoulders gives you pause.

Meanwhile, Namjoon looks more relaxed than ever.

‘Hey, it’s getting late, I should probably get going,’ you say.

Hoseok looks at you for a long moment. ‘Yeah, I’ll take you home.’

The car ride’s the quietest Hoseok’s ever been with you.

By the time he pulls up outside your apartment you’re tight with tension despite the champagne.

‘Thanks Hoseok,’ you say, mustering a smile.

He can barely look at you, and for some reason that makes you feel like crying.

You unbuckle your belt, push the door open. You’re almost all the way up the steps when you hear the car door behind you.

You turn to see Hoseok hurrying up the steps.

He steps a couple feet in front of you.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Shit that was weird, wasn’t it?’

He gives you a half-smile, touches your arm.

‘Yeah,’ you agree. You smile back at him uncertainly.

‘I’ll see you at work Monday?’

This time his smile’s more like the cheerful friendly Hoseok you’ve come to know.

He waves at you as he walks back to his car, waits until you’re inside before he drives away.

***

You’re messing around with Jimin by the fresh flowers, emptying out the buckets, when Hoseok walks by.

‘Hey!’ you say cheerfully, waving a hand.

Hoseok smiles but keeps walking, heading round to the back.

You hurry to catch up. 

‘Hoseok,’ you say, walking alongside him. ‘Jimin and I and some of the other guys are getting drinks after work, would you like to come?’

Hoseok hangs his jacket on the hook, puts on his apron. 

‘I’m busy. Maybe another time, ok?’

He’s walking off without waiting for your answer. 

You’re so taken aback by his brusqueness, a sharp contrast to the warm, kind Hoseok you’ve come to know that it takes you a moment to regroup.

When you get back to the flowers, Jimin’s finished filling the buckets.

‘You ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you reply, forcing a smile. ‘I went to ask Hoseok to join us for drinks, but he’s busy.’

Jimin’s studying your expression.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Tell you what, we’ll grab food beforehand, ok? My treat.’

You smile at him, a real smile this time. ‘It’s your turn anyway to get dinner,’ you point out.

Jimin puts an arm around your shoulders, squeezes. 

‘I’ll buy you whatever you want,’ he promises.

***

You’re three shots in, merry and listening to Jimin tell you about his weekend when Namjoon and Hoseok walk into the bar.

‘Shit,’ you hiss, slumping down next to Jimin.

Jimin throws you a sympathetic look as one of your colleagues, Dahyun calls Hoseok over.

You look down at your hands as Hoseok greets everyone at the table.

Thankfully you’re tucked in a seat against the wall.

You glance up, see the way both Namjoon and Hoseok are looking at you, and go back to looking at your hands.

As soon as they go to get drinks you tap Jimin on the shoulder. 

‘I’m gonna go, ok?’ 

‘Let me take you home,’ Jimin says. 

You wave aside his protests and make your way to the door.

You’re waiting for your taxi, shivering a bit in the cool night air, when you hear a familiar voice. 

‘Going so soon?’ asks Hoseok. He’s standing a little away from you, hands tucked in his pockets.

‘Yeah, I’m tired.’ You give him a small smile and turn back to the road, willing your taxi to arrive.

‘I’ll wait with you,’ Hoseok says.

‘I’m fine, it’ll be here any minute,’ you say.

Hoseok steps closer. ‘Can I talk to you?’

You close your eyes. ‘Sure,’ you say. ‘About what?’

There’s a flash of headlamps as your taxi pulls up. 

Hoseok opens the door for you, lets you in and gets in after you. 

You’re too surprised to say anything.

Hoseok turns to you. ‘I don’t have to go to your place, I can get out as soon as we arrive at yours ok?’

He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I just want to talk to you for a bit.’

‘Sure,’ you say. 

There’s a silence.

‘Namjoon’s my friend,’ Hoseok starts.

You’re wondering what he’s leading up to.

‘I needed to talk to him,’ Hoseok says.

You look out the car window, at the buildings flashing by.

‘I —‘

He stops again. ‘I like you,’ he says, simply. ‘But Namjoon’s my friend, and I just needed to know if he’d be ok with us dating.’

You feel hollow. ‘What did Namjoon say about us?’ you ask.

‘He said that you don’t have that kind of relationship,’ Hoseok replies.

You laugh bitterly.

‘If you wanted to know about me and Namjoon, you could have just asked me,’ you say.

He’s quiet.

Finally, he says, ‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’

The taxi pulls up outside your building. 

You’re more hurt than you thought you’d be. Hot tears burn the backs of your eyes.

‘It’s fine, Hoseok.’

You can’t look at him. 

You get out of the taxi. ‘I’ll see you at work, ok?’

Hoseok says, ‘wait’, but you’re already walking up the steps, letting yourself in.

You make it up to your apartment, and close the door behind you before you let the tears fall.

***

You’re sitting at the back of the room at the team-building day, half-asleep because it took you ages to get here on the train, to the ass end of nowhere. 

Jimin’s sleeping quietly beside you, ball cap pulled low over his face. You’ve promised to wake him if he started sleep-talking. 

Hoseok’s near the front of the room, not that you’d been looking out for him. You haven’t really spoken since that night at the bar. 

Namjoon’s texted you a few times but you haven’t answered. 

You can do better than a boy who just wants to fuck and a boy who can’t be bothered to talk to you like a goddamn decent human being.

You nudge Jimin awake when it’s time for the activity - a scavenger hunt in the woods where you’ll be paired off. 

To your dismay, you don’t get to pick your teammate. 

It’s fine, as long as you don’t get –

You swallow down the swear word that fills your mouth when you realise your teammate is Hoseok. 

Of course it is. 

Hoseok looks as thrilled about it as you do. 

He grabs the sack you’ve been given, and you pick up your clipboard and pen. 

‘Shall we head towards the lake?’ you ask, clipped. 

‘Sure,’ he says, neutral. 

You’re looking down the list. ‘Too bad it doesn’t ask for an asshole,’ you say, looking at him darkly. ‘Because you’re right here.’ 

Hoseok looks at you, straight faced. ‘Are you gonna be like this the whole time?’ 

‘Why don’t you call Namjoon and ask him, seeing as he knows so much about me?’ 

Hoseok tilts his head. ‘I said I was sorry about that,’ he tells you. 

You sigh. ‘Forget it. The first item is a black rock.’ 

‘There’ll be loads by the lake,’ Hoseok says. 

He sets off without waiting for you. 

You’re loath to follow him but at least if you get this over with as soon as possible you can go back and take the next train out of this place. 

Scowling, you follow in his tracks. 

***

‘You look hot when you’re angry,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘That little frown line between your brows really suits you.’ 

You give him a dead-eyed stare. ‘Yeah, and you looked hot before you turned out to be a misogynistic asshole.’ 

‘Jokes on you,’ Hoseok mutters. ‘I always was one.’ 

The giggle escapes you before you can hold it back. 

‘No wonder you’re friends with Namjoon,’ you scoff, turning away. 

‘We have a lot in common,’ Hoseok allows. He side-eyes you. ‘We like the same type of women.’ 

‘Women that are too hot for you?’ you ask, straightfaced. 

‘Yeah.’ 

You stumble on a rock, and Hoseok curls his hand under your arm to steady you. 

‘There you go again, thinking I need you when I don’t,’ you snipe, jerking your arm away. 

‘Yeah, next time I’ll just let you fall on your face,’ Hoseok agrees. 

He sighs. ‘Honestly? Your bitchiness is giving me a hard-on.’ 

Your gaze flies to his crotch. 

Hoseok lets you look. ‘I’m strapped in, but I’ll let you look at it properly later if you want.’ 

‘No thanks,’ you snap. 

He shrugs. ‘I’m not gonna force myself on you.’ 

Then, as you’re looking at his face, he smirks, popping a dimple at the corner of his mouth. ‘I won’t fuck you until you’re begging for it.’ 

You raise a brow, nonchalant. ‘Guess we’re never fucking then.’ 

‘That’s my loss,’ he says. 

He veers off to the right, behind a tree. 

‘Got it,’ he says, emerging after a moment, triumphantly holding up an acorn. 

You tick it off the list silently. 

‘I don’t want to be an asshole misogynist again, but the path’s slippery here, be careful,’ he says, as you approach a steep sloping hill. 

‘Thanks,’ you reply. 

The path narrows, and he says, ‘Let me go up ahead, ok? Just in case.’ 

‘I’m fine with you dying first,’ you agree. 

He looks back at you, smiles. ‘I would have asked you out sooner if I’d known you were like this.’ 

‘Intolerant of assholes?’ you suggest. 

He laughs. ‘Mean.’ 

You’re indignant. ‘I’m not mean!’ 

‘No, I like it,’ he says. ‘Like I said, you’re giving me a boner.’ 

‘I heard you were mean too,’ you say. 

He scoffs. ‘Only in bed.’ 

He smiles at you. ‘Wanna find out?’ 

You shove him, and he just laughs. ‘Come on, let me help you up the slope.’ 

He offers you his hand, and when you reach out for it, he pulls it away. 

You look up at him, outraged, and he laughs again. 

‘No, really this time,’ he says, putting out his hand again. 

You push past him, and your foot slips. 

‘Shit!’

Hoseok, quick as a cat, grabs you to steady you. 

‘You ok?’ he asks quietly, holding your arm. 

‘I’m fine,’ you mutter. ‘We have one item left, then we can head back.’ 

‘The elderberries?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I found those ages ago.’ 

You stare up at him. ‘You didn’t —’

‘Yeah, I wanted more time with you. Alone in the woods.’ 

You’d be more mad if he didn’t look so absurdly hot when he’s grinning at you like he is now. 

‘Fuck, Hoseok.’ 

‘My friends call me Hobi,’ he says. 

‘We’re not friends,’ you snap. 

He almost looks hurt. ‘Aren’t we? Don’t you like hanging out with me?’ 

You’re about to say you don’t when you realise it would be a lie. 

He holds out his arm. ‘Come on, it’s getting dark. We should head back.’ 

***

You’re one of the last teams to get back, and as you walk up you realise from Jimin’s reaction that you’re still holding Hoseok’s arm. 

‘Can I give you a ride back? I drove,’ Hoseok offers. 

‘I came with Jimin on the train,’ you say. 

‘You can both fit in my car,’ Hoseok says, easy. 

You wake up to Jimin saying goodbye to Hoseok, and sit up guiltily. 

Hoseok turns back to you. 

‘Are you ok? You looked tired so we didn’t want to wake you.’ 

‘I’m fine. Let me come round the front.’ 

You slide into the front passenger seat, and Hoseok pulls away from Jimin’s apartment.

‘You hungry?’ he asks, as he drives.

You sit up and realise that you are, a bit.

‘Depends, are we gonna eat together?’

Hoseok looks over at you, laughs. ‘We can sit separately if you want.’

You end up at some 24 hour noodle bar near where he lives.

Hoseok slurps his noodles, throws glances at you across the tiny table, until you set down your chopsticks.

‘What?’

‘I’m just regretting fucking things up so badly with you,’ he says.

You open your mouth, ready with a reply, and close it again.

‘Namjoon asked me out,’ you tell him. ‘He came round to where I worked, and then one day asked if I wanted to meet him, and I did. We went on dates, and I don’t remember when it all changed but then one day I realised we were just sleeping together.’

You look up at him. 

‘He’s never lied or said he wants more,’ you say. ‘You know, there was this one night I was walking back from his place and some dude snatched my phone.’

You look out the front window at the street. 

‘I was right outside his building, but it was only after I got home, all shaken up that I realised I hadn’t even thought about ringing his bell, asking to come back up and calm down.’ 

You laugh, short. ‘I guess I didn’t want to find out how little he really cares about me outside of bed.’

You don’t want to see Hoseok’s face right now. 

Is he disgusted at how pathetic you are?

You look at your hands. 

‘I should go.’

Hoseok’s standing. He hasn’t said a word since your confession.

He stops with his hand on the passenger door of his car. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

You risk a glance at his face only to find he’s looking at you. There’s an openness to his expression, a mixture of concern and kindness and something else you can’t read.

He opens the door, shuts it after you once you’ve climbed in.

The drive back to yours is short, and you’re grateful that he seems to not want to try to talk.

He pulls up outside your steps, kills the engine.

‘Let me walk you to the door,’ he says.

You’re surprised. ‘It’s literally ten steps.’

He walks up with you, stops at the entrance. 

‘Namjoon and I are similar in a lot of ways,’ he tells you, putting a hand on your arm, ‘but not in everything. I wouldn’t want you to think I’d treat you the same as he’s done.’

You look up at him and the memory of him that day at the festival softens your gaze. 

‘I know you’re not the same,’ you say.

‘Good,’ Hoseok says. He lets go of your arm. 

He waits until you’re inside before he drives away.

***

You and Jimin stare, bemused, at the beautifully stocked display trays of fresh fruit and vegetables.

You haven’t even started your shift, but it looks like all your work’s been done for you.

You turn to Jimin. ‘Did you?’

‘Nope,’ Jimin denies.

‘Then who?’

Hoseok walks by, accompanied by a man you don’t know with a lip piercing and a fluffy looking wolf cut covering his face.

‘Hey, Jungkook and I arranged the fruit this morning. Do you guys want to go round the back? We made rolls and coffee.’

Nonplussed, you and Jimin follow Hoseok and Jungkook to the break room.

Hoseok pours you a mug of coffee, passes you a roll. 

‘How are you doing?’ he asks, settling into the seat next to yours, leaning back.

His thigh brushes yours as he stretches out, and he moves it carefully away.

‘I’m good,’ you say. ‘You?’

‘I couldn’t sleep well thinking about what you said,’ Hoseok says.

You’re discomfited. ‘It’s fine, Hoseok, I didn’t tell you for any particular reason.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry and I can do better.’

You’re quiet. ‘Why do you care?’

‘I like you,’ he says, with an honesty that takes your breath away. ‘Even when you’re mean to me.’

He smiles at your expression. ‘Especially when you’re mean to me,’ he amends.

You can’t help but laugh. 

***

Hoseok’s gathering shopping trolleys in the car park when you walk out. 

‘Hey,’ he says, pushing a long line of trolleys towards you. ‘Want to go watch a movie?’

You tilt your head, considering, and then decide to make the leap.

‘Hey. My mom dropped off a lot of food at mine yesterday. There’s enough for both of us if you’re interested.’

Hoseok beams at you. ‘Yes!’ he says, with such enthusiasm you’re smiling.

‘I just need to get my jacket,’ he explains. ‘Wait for me here?’

You’re waiting for Hoseok by the trolleys when a familiar voice says your name.

It’s Namjoon.

He’s decked out in blue, and white, tall enough to block out the late afternoon sun, handsome enough to make you stand up straight.

‘Hey,’ he says. 

‘Hey.’

‘I haven’t heard from you lately,’ he says. He cocks his head, dimples at you. ‘You good?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’

‘I’m ready,’ Hoseok says cheerfully, coming out the side of the store.

He stops when he sees you and Namjoon.

There’s an infinitesimal pause before he says, ‘Hey, Namjoon.’

Namjoon says, easy, ‘hey Hobi.’

‘We’re going to have dinner,’ you say. 

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says. ‘See you later, Namjoon.’

Hoseok puts a gentle hand under your arm. ‘Ready?’

You think you are.

***

Hoseok’s eating a cream puff. 

There’s a dollop of cream on his top lip, and you put your hand on his arm to keep him still as you lean forward and lick it off.

Hoseok’s reflexes are quick.

He turns his head instantly to kiss you full on the lips.

Oh my. Is this what you’ve been missing?

His lips are sweet, and warm, and he’s responsive, following your lead as you deepen the kiss.

His tongue flicks at your lower lip, and then slides into your mouth.

His warm hand covers yours as you break apart.

‘Let’s go sit,’ you invite, gesturing to your couch.

Hoseok’s laying a trail of kisses along the line of your neck, tongue coming out to flick at your skin. His hand’s gently squeezing your covered thigh.

His chest is pressed against yours, and something about the solid warmth of him is making your head spin. 

You’re squirming, impatient already even though he’s made no move to do anything but kiss you.

Hoseok sighs out a breath as he pulls away. He rests the side of his head against the back of your couch, lips curving in a smile. 

‘I could do this all night,’ he tells you.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

***

Hoseok’s shirtless, lying on his back on your bedspread. His flat abs twitch as you run your tongue along them.

You reach the button on his jeans, tug at it with your teeth.

Hoseok’s hand comes up to grasp your hair. 

‘You really want this?’ he asks. 

‘We can just snuggle for a bit if you want,’ he suggests, voice low and warm.

He pulls you up alongside him, curls an arm around you, keeps his face close to yours.

He says, ‘I’ve wanted to be with you like this since that time at the festival.’

He reaches out, traces a finger over the upper curve of your breasts, exposed in your bra. 

‘Fuck, you’re a menace,’ Hoseok mutters, but he doesn’t sound mad about it.

He traces circles on your arm lazily, lets you slide your hand over his bare chest. His flat nipples pebble under your touch.

‘You know what I think?’ he says, finally. 

You raise your eyes to his. 

‘I think you need to be told what to do,’ Hoseok says, thoughtfully. ‘You’re too pretty, I bet that’s what all the boys you’ve slept with tell you.’ 

Your brow furrows. 

Hoseok nudges you down so you’re flat on the bed, hooks a thigh over your legs to slide you fully underneath him. 

He braces himself with a forearm beside your head, rolls his hips slowly against yours, makes you tremble with want.

Hoseok says, a challenge in his eyes, ‘Bet you wouldn’t know what to do with my cock if I let you have it.’

You look at him, your irritation clouded by lust, by the way he’s still slowly grinding himself against you. 

He laughs at you. 

The bastard has the audacity to laugh at you. 

‘Look at you, your lips like that, your eyes like that. Bet all you have to do is smile and you have guys creaming their pants.’ 

He leans closer, presses his lips to your ear, murmurs, ‘huh.’

You’re already so wet and needy you can barely keep up, but you muster up a retort, defiance in your tone.

‘I’m not some sort of pillow princess,’ you tell him, annoyed.

Hoseok laughs, voice so low and raspy now you can barely make out the words. 

‘I think you are,’ he replies. He rolls his hips again, and you try to stifle a moan but you can’t. 

‘It’s ok,’ he tells you, hand under your ass, pulling your hips up to his. ‘I like it.’

The chain around his neck’s dangling into the dip of his clavicles. You tuck your fingers into it, pull a little as you kiss him again, open mouthed. 

Hoseok licks into your mouth like he loves the taste of you, sloppy, wet. As you run your hand down over his bare chest he groans. 

He sits forward, tucks his fingers under the strap of your bra. ‘Can I take this off?’ he asks. 

When you nod he unhooks your bra, tugs it off you.

He admires your bare breasts for so long your hands are already coming up to cover yourself when he says, stern, ‘Don’t.’

‘Hoseok —-‘

‘I’m staring,’ he explains patiently, ‘because I’ve been thinking about you like this for so long I can’t believe we’re finally here, like this.’

He kisses you off centre, at the corner of your mouth, flicking his tongue at the seam of your lips. 

‘I’m staring because you’re such a pretty girl.’

He lowers his head, sticks out his tongue, laves the peak of your breast, pulling a whimper out of you. 

‘Go on,’ he says, watching your face, lips against your breast. ‘Let me hear how much you like it.’ 

His thigh slips between yours, and you roll your hips against it, seeking friction for your aching clit, the emptiness between your legs. 

Hoseok’s mouth is warm, and wet, and he grasps your hip, tight, as he suckles at your breasts.

Your first orgasm takes you by surprise, a burst of warm pleasure from your throbbing clit, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you cry out and buck your hips against his.

‘Easy, baby,’ Hoseok says, letting you ride out the waves of your pleasure, hand warm on your skin as he steadies you.

You lift your face to his, and he’s only too happy to give you his mouth. You’re still breathless from your orgasm, and when he slips a firm hand under your panties, you moan so loudly his ears ring.

Hoseok groans at the feel of you, warm and soft and slicking up his fingers. 

‘Are you sensitive? Can I?’

You reach down and curl your fingers around him, and Hoseok can’t stop himself from grinding into your hand.

‘One sec,’ he grunts. He tears open a condom, passes it to you.

‘Go on, do some work, princess.’

You’re sitting up on legs that still feel like jelly.

Instead of rolling the condom onto his length, you take him in your mouth, suck at his head, and Hoseok swears and pulls you off him.

‘Damn you need to warn me if you’re gonna do that, I nearly came,’ he pants.

He kisses you again. ‘Behave yourself or you won’t get fucked.’

You pinch the tip, roll the condom onto him, and Hoseok pulls you on top of him.

He pinches the softness of your inner thigh, making you jump.

‘Line me up,’ he says. 

You squeeze him as you position yourself, and Hoseok groans. ‘Fuck, you’re such a brat.’

He closes his eyes, huffs out a long breath as you take him in.

He’s deep, like this, snug. He grasps your hips, helps you move on his cock.

His head arches back into the pillow underneath it, neck bared to you as you ride him.

‘Use me, baby,’ he urges, bucking his hips up into you to fuck you a little deeper, grunting when you cry out.

He feels so good your oversensitivity gives way to building need. 

‘Come on,’ Hoseok says. He cards his fingers through your hair, tugs you down so he can devour your mouth. He’s vocal in his enjoyment of you, groaning into your mouth, grasping your ass so tight he’s going to leave marks.

‘Look,’ he says, hoarse, helping you lift up off him so you can see your arousal glistening on his skin, on the insides of your thighs.

He swears. ‘Turn over.’

He pulls out, and you turn over, onto all fours. You tremble with want as he slides his cock against your slit, nudging you apart.

He’s back inside you in one smooth movement, curled over your back, hand on your tits, the other hand snaking down the front of your pelvis to rub your clit.

‘I’m gonna come,’ he tells you. His voice is raspy now, taut. ‘And I think I’m going to fucking love coming into this cunt.’ 

‘I think you’re gonna get so fucking tight I won’t be able to move.’

He strokes his fingers over your clit, and you cry out. He flicks his other thumb over your peaked nipple. 

‘Shit, you’re so fucking soft, princess,’ he groans. ‘So fucking soft.’

You moan his name as his words push you over the edge.

‘That’s it, there you go, princess,’ he says. He drives himself into your pulsing cunt, deep, slow, and then he’s holding you tight, pulled up so your back is pressed to his chest. You can feel him twitching as he fills the condom.

Your arms buckle, and you drop onto the bed, taking him with you.

He rolls off. ‘Fuck, are you ok? Did I squash you?’

You’re still breathless but you manage a smile. ‘No, you killed me.’

Hoseok laughs. ‘Knew you were a princess.’

He sits up, staggers a little, and he disappears in the direction of your kitchen, coming back with a glass of water.

‘Drink up.’

As you drink he goes to the bathroom, returning shirtless but with his briefs back on.

‘All yours,’ he says. He passes you his t-shirt and your panties.

By the time you make it back he’s tidied up the clothes you shed, and is perched on the end of your bed. 

He looks up at you. 

‘I can go,’ he says, tentative. 

You come closer, and automatically, he curls an arm around your waist, pressing his face into your front.

‘Why don’t you stay?’ 

Hoseok’s smile is bright, happy, pleased. ‘I’d like to.’

You hit the lights, and he holds up the covers for you to slide in, wraps his arm around you as soon as you’re in the bed.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. 

‘Need to get that?’ he asks as you lift it to check.

He watches you swipe away the text from Namjoon, but all he says is, ‘What kind of coffee do you like? I’ll pick us up some in the morning.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ he promises. ‘I’ll get you whatever you want.’

©hamsterclaw 2023