#it’s not ideal to buy a new laptop & i really don’t want to go to IT and get a quote | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansolmates · 4 years ago

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remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

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“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

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morgana-ren · 3 years ago

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and a funny question, who does tomura like his reader or his video game better?

Ideally, he wants both!

That's not to say that Tomura is going to turn down a girl that isn't into video games- he never thought he'd have a girlfriend at all so this is a fantastic problem to have- but it would be even better to have a girl who can game with him. It's his release, how he vents out various frustrations and clearly something he learned how to utilize when he was young to cope and enjoy himself. He’s been seen multiple times strategizing in video game format, so I think it’s safe to say that it’s fairly important.

If you're not a gamer, that's okay too, but he is going to try and get you into it. Show you some of his favorite games and try to teach you how to play. For your birthday or some other occasion, he'll buy you a console or a laptop in the hopes that you'll play it in your free time and take a liking to it.

If you don’t, cool. But he’s still going to play his.

I think the best way to put it is that he loves you both in very different ways. He loves his console and his pc, but he’s not going to try and fuck them (though he has been lonely and drunk enough to joke about it before).

Don’t be one of those chicks that tries to get him to put the habit aside entirely because 1) Why would you want to? He enjoys so little, let him have one little goddamn thing, and 2) he’s not going to take kindly to it.

It’s totally plausible for your relationship and his video game habit to co-exist. He just might ask some odd things and do some goofy shit.

Here’s a little list for funsies.

Letting him rant and rave to you about his current fixation.

Stealing you goofy game related shit from games you mention more than once or seem to remember because he thinks you’ll like them since you clearly remember it.

Even if you’re not really interested in games, he’ll still offer to buy you new ones he likes and grind them and offer to play them with you, basically power-leveling you to see if you grow to enjoy it.

Taking you to the local game shop and hanging out while he browses (and him telling you to fucking relax when you tense as he steals whatever it is he decided on, because fuck the establishment).

Him listening to video game OSTs when he’s trying to focus or just relaxing in general.

Cosplaying as one of his favorite characters.

Roleplaying as one of his favorite characters.

Letting him fuck you while you do those things.

Blowing him while he plays online (time honored classic)

Having you ride him while he plays.

Him finding a casual way to work into unrelated conversation that he has a girlfriend to gamers online who honestly don’t give a shit.

Wanting to ‘place a bet’ on a match and winner takes all (I’ll give ya one guess on what he wants to bet for.)

Taking you out on the rare occasions he goes in public to go to cons for releases he’s into

Dude watches video game youtubers. Sorry if you’re not into that.

Goofy gamer lingo.

Absolutely horrible gamer pillow talk.

Someone please tell this man it’s not sexy to tell you you’re poggers after cumming (lmao)

Relating a lot of things back to whatever game in particular he’s playing with.

You’re not gunna convince me this man doesn’t play super modded sims on the lowdown and has some nasty shit happenin’.

Gettin’ a wee bit flustered when you stumble across his.. uh.. expansive mods folder for certain games and sites he has bookmarked.

It’s ironic. It was as a joke. He swears.

haha unless...

#Morgana and friends #shigaraki x reader #nsft #quick n dirty for ya #Don't try ta touch him when he's in a serious match tho #he loses his temper quick #he's got white boy gamer rage

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writingquestionsanswered · 4 years ago

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Hello, a bit of a different ask but I'm struggling with my organisation. I have lots of scenes/one-shot/prompt ideas hanging around everywhere (notebooks, phone, pc). Do you have any tips or organisation methods? I know people use Scrivener, but I can't pay for the subscription. I've tried Notion, but I heard it isn't private? It doesn't even have to be a digital program, honestly. I'm at a loss, any advice would be greatly appreciated!

Organizing Story Ideas

Here are my tips for how to organize ideas for different stories...

Choose Your Storage Method

There are lots of different ways you can store ideas, but it may take trying a few before you find one that really works for you. Ultimately, you're looking for something that will let you place the ideas into different categories and potentially sub-categories. Here are some suggestions:

Writing Programs/Apps - There are several beloved writing programs and apps that offer the ability to categorize ideas. Scrivener is certainly one of them, and for the record, it's not subscription-based. As of 8/21 it's a one-time fee of $49. Minor updates are free, but very occasionally there will be a major update that requires a small upgrade fee. Pros: It's easy to type ideas and move things around. Cons: You could lose your ideas if you don't back them up.

Computer File Folders - This is the main method I personally use. In my writing folder on my laptop, I have a folder labeled "plot bunnies" that contains sub-folders for different kinds of ideas. Here's what it looks like:

I don't have sub-folders for sub-categories, but you certainly could if you wanted to. I put each idea into its own notepad file, then save it into the appropriate folder. Pros: It's easy and super organized. I know exactly where to find a certain idea when I need it. Plus, it's easy to add new ideas when I have them. Also, when I'm struggling with an WIP, it's easy to look through other ideas to see if I can incorporate them into the WIP. Cons: You could lose all your ideas if something happens to your laptop, so it's a good idea to have them backed up and make sure you update back ups often.

Notebooks - This is the method I used to use, and TBH it would be a good back up for either of the above methods. I also keep a notebook by my bed for writing down dreams and middle-of-the-night ideas, and I try to transfer them into the appropriate plot bunnies folder every now and then. Look for a multi-subject notebook. If you need sub-categories, you can buy stick-on file tabs to sub-divide. With this method, it's best to let every idea have its own page or half-page. You might also look for one that has built-in pockets where you can quickly store ideas written on post-its, scrap paper, etc. Just make sure to transfer them to their own sections eventually! Pros: Notebooks are inexpensive, easy to store, and easy to grab when you're writing. Cons: If you lose it, you lose your ideas, so this method warrants a back-up method as well.

Three-Ring Binder - This is a variation on the notebook method but one that works especially well if you need a lot of categories and sub-categories. Not only can you use tabbed dividers to create sections, you can use stick-on tabs to create sub-categories as needed. You can also add folders and pockets, or anything else you need. Pros: Binders are relatively inexpensive and come in a variety of sizes. You can fill them with whatever kind of paper works best for noting your ideas. Cons: They're more expensive than notebooks, not as easy to store, and generally work best if you have a lot of empty space on a table or desk so you can work in them. Once again, a backup method is recommended.

Index Cards/Organizer - This method would be especially good if you have a ton of ideas, need a ton of categories, and need lots of sub-categories. Ideally, each idea would go on its own card. Pros: there are a variety of index card storage methods available. You can color code different categories. You can use tabbed index card dividers for categories or make your own using stick-on tabs. Cons: Ideas take longer to find in categories with lots of cards. You need to purchase cards and container. Also need a backup method.

Kanban Board/Binder - Kanban boards are dry erase boards (or bulletin boards) that are divided into sections, each one being its own category. Tasks (or in this case, ideas) are written down on an index card or post-it note, and stuck to (or tacked to) the board in its proper category. You can also use punched, laminated cardstock to create a Kanban Binder. Here's the one I use for writing tasks. I did mine using an old Happy Planner using old Happy Planner covers (since they're already laminated,) but you could also use a three-ring binder.

Looking at the image in the bottom right, each category consists of two laminated pages facing each other. So, this could be "novel ideas" and the columns (sub-categories) are genres like mystery, romance, fantasy, etc. Or, the category could be "fantasy" and the columns could be poems, short stories, novellas, and novels. Whatever works for you! You can Google Kanban boards to see what the board version looks like. Pros: Quick reference, easy to add ideas and remove them when they've been done. Also, it's a versatile/flexible method. Cons: You may need to buy a board or binder and post-it notes/index cards. Also needs a backup method.

Figure Out Your Categories/Sub-Categories

Once you have your method chosen and set up, you'll need to think about how you want to categorize everything and what categories/sub-categories you need. You may even want to do this before you settle on a method. Genres and sub-genres would be one method, writing formats (poetry, fan-fiction, short story, etc.) is another option. You might even choose to categorize by publishing method/intention or how much you like the ideas.

Gather, Sort, and Re-Home

Now it's time to grab your phone, notebooks, and laptop/desktop, gather up all those disparate ideas, sort them into their categories and sub-categories, and put them into their new home!

Choose a Backup Method

Whether you designate a thumb drive and back up your laptop plot bunny folder every week, buy a spiral notebook to jot down new ideas before they go into the primary storage, or take occasional photos of your Kanban board/binder, you definitely want to make sure you have your backup method chosen and use it often. That way, if something happens to the main method, you don't lose all those ideas.

Keep an eye on the comments in case there are more ideas!

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let-me-luve-you · 4 years ago

Text

Separated Cherries

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: The reader deals with anxiety and one form of the readers anxiety is separation anxiety. She really misses Tom so he flies her to Cleveland while he’s working on Cherry. He later admits how hard it was for him to worry about her and focus on the seriousness of the character.

Warnings: anxiety, separation anxiety, angst, protective Tom, talks of Cherry (nothing is mentioned specific i don’t think, but I do mention that it was hard for Tom to film it and how it deals with difficult topics)

A/N: I’m awful. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the late post but I hope you enjoy it!! This was for a special person and I hope they enjoy it! Also I mention a scene in Cherry but don’t go into detail but if you have watched the press tour, you may know what scene I’m talking about. Or if you’ve seen the movie, you may know what scene I’m talking about. I tried to avoid spoilers so I hope you like this story.

MASTERLIST BUY ME A COFFEE

The days leading up to Tom leaving, you didn’t leave his side. He didn’t mind though. He loved having you around. You grounded him and reminded of the normal life he left behind when he went to be The Tom Holland the world knows and loves.

Earlier this month, Tom took you with him to Utah for a convention. You had never gone to one before so Tom thought this would be a good time. Tom also was being a little selfish and wanted you there with him since he was still dealing with the news of Spider-Man leaving the MCU.

Now he’s about to leave for Cleveland to film Cherry. A movie Tom knew was going to be a challenge for him. The Russo’s fought for him to be in this movie. They wanted Tom in this role more than anybody. They even got a job for Harry. You had asked Tom, when he first learned of the filming dates, if you could go with him. Since Tom knew the contents of the movie and how dark it was, he didn’t want you around that, so he said no.

Now, it’s the night before he’s leaving. You are curled up on his bed watching him pack his bag. “Don’t forget your blue light glasses.” You said.

“Already have them packed in my carry-on with my laptop and chargers.” He said to you with a smile. “Thank you though. I do forget them all the time.” You laughed.

You turned serious, “I’m going to miss you. I know you said I couldn’t go, but I still wish I could go with you.” Tom sighed.

“I know. I’m going to miss you too, but this film is just going to be dealing with a lot of serious issues and I don’t want you to have to see me like that.” He said, honestly.

“I know. Can I still call you though?” You asked sheepishly.

“Always.” He said before turning to his dresser to get socks and underwear. “So, what are your plans for the next few months?”

“I plan on helping mum. She apparently has a lot of shoots. Probably taste test all of Sam’s food.” You laughed.

“I’m so jealous. I have yet to find something I don’t like of Sam’s.” Tom said.

“He is a great cook.” Tom agreed. “Paddy apparently has a show he’s going to be on, so I’ll help him with that in any way I can. And Dad is working on a new book, so whatever he needs me to do, I’ll do.”

“You really are great, you know that?” Tom asked as he paused his packing to come sit next to you. He wrapped you in a hug. “Are you going to do anything for you?” You shrugged. “Do me a favor? Do something for you. Learn to do more for you. You help all of those around you, but you rarely do things for you. Draw more or hide away and read. Go out to a party or go do something with your friends. Remember to take care of you. Promise me, you’ll try to do that.”

“Promise.” You said. He squeezed you tighter in the hug and gave you a kiss on your head before getting up to finish his packing.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Tom finished packing and put his bags by the front door. You both got comfy on his bed and watched a movie. You were the first to fall asleep and first to wake up the next day. Tom’s and Harry’s flight wasn’t until 10 am and it was currently 630. You decided to make them a good breakfast so they would be fine until the flight gave out their lunch.

“What are you doing?” You heard a tired voice. You looked over your shoulder to see Tom walking up to sit at the counter. You smiled at him and fixed him a cup of tea.

“I’m making you and Harry breakfast.” You said cheerfully. You walked back over to the stove and finished making the eggwhite omelet. Tom was on a strict diet so you made something he could eat, but also something that he liked. You put it on a plate and set it in front of him.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Tom said. “But thank you. This looks delicious.” “What looks delicious?” Harry asked as he sat next to Tom. “Oooh. I want one.”

“It’s coming right up.” You said as you set a tea in front of him and turned back to making his omelette.

“Thank you Y/N.” Harry said, taking a sip of his freshly made tea. “Can I hire you to be my personal assistant?” You all laughed. “When we get home, I’ll treat you to dinner via Sam’s cooking.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m holding you to it.” You said. “I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Just a few months and then we will be home for Christmas.” Tom said standing up to put his plate in the sink.

“I know. Still sucks. I hate when you leave.” You opened up. You had been holding it in. You felt bad for dropping it on him right before he leaves, but it needed to be said. “It always just feels different around here. I don’t know how to describe it, but it doesn’t feel like we are complete.”

“I know it’s not ideal to have two brothers that are constantly traveling for work. That we aren’t here for family dinners, but we are a phone call or text away. Reach out and we will try to answer as quickly as possible.” Tom said looking into your eyes. You could see that he meant them.”

“Ignore me. I’m just in my feels this morning. I’ll be okay.” You whispered. You wrapped Tom in a hug. “I’m proud of you, you know? It’s so great to see you out there doing what you love and seeing the people’s lives that you touch.”

“Thank you y/n/n. I love you.” Tom said kissing your forehead.

“Love you too.” You squeezed him tighter before pulling away and wrapping Harry in a hug. “Love you too Hairball.”

Harry scoffed at the nickname you gave him when you were both extremely young and you were mad at him. “Don’t call me that…” He paused before hugging you back. “Love you too.”

“Now you better get going before you’re late.” You said. “I also packed you small snack bags and put them in your carry ons.”

“You’re the best.” Tom said as he walked to put his shoes on. “Thank you y/n/n.” Harry said doing the same.

You watched them grab their bags and walk out of the house with one last smile. You sighed and went back to your room to take a nap. Already missing your brothers, you decided to turn on Spider-Man Homecoming.

It is now mid-October and you were missing Tom and Harry more than anything. You tried to hangout with Sam and Paddy more to try to not feel the sadness of missing your other two brothers. Paddy didn’t want to hangout with you. He was too busy hanging out with his friends and playing football. Sam was always at the restaurant or in the kitchen at your parents house. You would stay with him and watch him cook, but it wasn’t the same.

Your sleep schedule was messed up due to the fact you were staying up late watching Netflix. Looking over at the clock, it read 3 am. Pulling your phone from your bedside table, you pulled up Tom’s contact and decided to FaceTime him. It only rang for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked worriedly. You could tell he was laying in bed.

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk to you.” You answered honestly.

“It’s 3 am where you are! Why are you not asleep?” His eyes widened as he realized how late it was for you.

“I can’t. My schedules messed up. I’m fine. Did I wake you?” You asked, scared of the answer.

“No. I was just watching some TV before I went to bed. I have a 7am call time.” He said and you breathed a sigh of relief for not waking him.

“How was filming today?” You said looking at his tired eyes.

“It was good. We did a hard scene today, but it went really well. We have another hard, long day again tomorrow.” Tom rubbed the tired out of his eyes. He was just about to fall asleep when called.

“I’m sorry you’ve had some hard days.” You said sincerely.

“Thanks but it’s okay. Thankfully Harry’s here. He’s really helping me.” Tom sighed.

“I’d help you if I was there. I know it’s hard, but I’m proud of you.” You said with your eyes tearing up.

“Are you doing okay?” Tom asked concern noticing the change of tone in your voice. “Mum said you’ve been at the house a lot.”

“I’m doing okay. I went and got my nails done today with Chandra.” You said showing Tom the Marvel based nails. With Tom only being a year older than you, he got you into Marvel when you were younger. Spider-Man was always your favorite and when Tom got the role, you celebrated just as much or even more than he did.

“I like them. They’re pretty.” Tom said with a small smile. “How are you holding up though with me and Harry being gone? I haven’t asked in a while.”

You sighed and looked away from Tom. You didn’t want him to know how much you missed him, but you missed your best friend. “I’m good. Been hanging out with friends more and I help Sam when he’s at home. Mum, Dad, and I have had movie nights. It’s been good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, still concerned. You felt a tear you had been fighting fall down your cheek. You looked away from the phone. “Y/N/N. Look at me.”

Shaking your head, “I’m fine Tom. I just miss my best friend.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.” He said.

“I’ll be okay.” You whispered.

“How about this…” Tom said. “Let me fly you out to visit. We are about to do some of the easier stuff and you can come stay with us while the scenes aren’t so intense.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m just being weird.” You said not wanting for him to be pressured into inviting you.

“Separation anxiety isn’t you being weird. It’s an actual thing.” He said sincerely. He cared about you. You didn’t know you had this issue until Tom got the role of Spider-Man and left for Atlanta. Your mum noticed you clingy to them more or your other brothers. When Tom arrived home you stuck to him like glue. Your mum decided to take you to a doctor to see if there was anything to do for you. You learned the anxiety medicine didn’t help you and talking to a therapist only went so far. All you wanted, was to be with your whole family.

“I’ll get Harry to schedule you a flight. Pack warm clothes and at least two weeks worth.” He said.

“No, Tom, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” You fought back.

“I’m serious. Come stay with us. Harry will get your flight.” He kept fighting back.

“If you're sure.” You said softly. Tom almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m sure. I miss you too. Plus having you here may help me.” Tom said, laying back down on his pillow. You could tell he was tired, but he was staying awake for you.

“I appreciate it, T.” You spoke honestly. “I really do miss you. I love you.”

“Love you too y/n/n.” He whispered while fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night.” Tom said before hanging up. You smiled knowing you were finally going to get to see your brother again very soon. You laid back on your bed and finally felt the exhaustion from staying up late. You could worry about what you were going to pack tomorrow.

When Tom told Harry to schedule you a flight out, Harry accidentally scheduled it too early. Tom still had some hard scenes to film. When you landed in America, he didn’t want you to come to set, but he didn’t want to leave you at home either.

Harry showed you where you could go and couldn’t. You basically only went to Tom’s trailer, the bathroom, the food tent, and Tom’s chair. Today, Tom begged you not to come because he knew the day was full of hard things. He knew what the last scene was going to be filmed and he didn’t want you to see that.

You insisted you could handle it. You didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to spend time with your brother. Tom finally gave in after you promised you would stay in his trailer during that final scene.

Throughout the day, you stayed close to Tom. When he wasn’t filming or on set, you were right beside him. He tried to be understanding of how you were feeling, but he really needed to step away from everything he’s been feeling for filming.

“How’s your sandwich?” Tom asked at dinner. It had been a long day and there was only one more thing to film before there were four days off.

“It’s good. How’s your salad?” You asked, pointing at his plate.

“It’s good.” He said nonchalantly. You knew he was craving more food. You had asked Harry to go get him a cheeseburger with fries. You looked up and noticed him carrying a bag from Five Guys.

You smiled and Tom looked over his shoulder. “Thanks for going to get that Harry.” You said as Harry sat next to you. You grabbed the bag and pulled out the burger and fries. “Eat up Tom. I know you’re hungry for more.”

“I can’t you guys.” Tom said in a defeated tone. “I’m still on this diet. I can’t. I can’t do that to everyone that’s working on this film.”

You sighed, “Tom, you have had salads everyday for two weeks. You can have one burger. You need more food.” Tom looked at you and then looked at Harry.

“I mean, I did go get it and I agree with Y/N. You do need to eat more and it will be okay. One cheeseburger won’t hurt.” Harry said. Finally Tom agreed to eating the food Harry brought. “Y/n/n are you going to set tonight?”

“No. I promised Tom I wouldn’t be there.” You answered honestly. Harry looked over at Tom shocked. Harry figured Tom would want you there since it’s such a hard scene. Maybe have someone other than him that’s familiar.

“You can come work with me.” Harry told you.

Tom looked up at him shocked. “I don’t want her to see this. It’ll be hard enough to have her watching it in the movie.”

“I think it’ll be good for her to be there. It’s a hard scene and I won’t be able to be there between takes.” Harry said. Harry was doing a new role tonight and needed to focus on that.

“It’s okay Harry. I can wait in the trailer. I brought my book.” You said with a smile. Trying to help Tom out so he doesn’t feel like he’s being teamed up on. Tom smiled at you gratefully. Harry turned to Tom and started to whisper something to him. You watched Tom’s demeanor change. He rolled his eyes before turning back to you.

“You can come. Bring your book and a blanket. You can sit in my chair.” Tom said finally giving into Harry.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting in the trailer. Promise.” You told Tom. Tom finished eating his food before standing up to go to his trailer with you and Harry following. He walked in and grabbed your book off of the counter and grabbed your blanket. “Let’s go.” Tom said as he walked out the door towards the set.

“Tom. I’m not going.” You said. Harry shook his head and started to push you towards set. “I promised I wouldn’t go.”

“Come on y/n/n. I promise it’s okay. I don’t count this as a broken promise. I want you there.” Tom said with a sigh. You decided not to keep fighting with him about it. You ran to catch up with him and grabbed the blanket and book from him. “Thank you.” He whispered. “This is going to be a difficult scene to watch, so I’m sorry for what you have to see.”

“It’s okay Tom. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” You said with a small smile.

Later that night, Tom was in the makeup trailer getting his makeup removed. You were sitting in his trailer with Harry waiting to go home. You tried to hold in your tears. You hated seeing Tom like that.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Great.” You said forcing a smile.

Harry looked at you skeptically and then nodded. He pulled out his phone and sent the video he got to Tom. You were exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. You decided to lay down and rest your eyes until Tom got back. You were just about to fall into a deep sleep when you heard Tom walk in.

“Should I send this to mum?” Tom asked with a laugh.

“Do it.” Harry laughed. “But first, let’s go home. I think someone needs a bed.”

Tom looked over at your sleeping body. He smiled at you. Harry was right. Having you there helped him. This was probably the hardest scene he was going to have to film in the whole movie.

“Go get the car. I’ll bring her out.” Tom said as he started putting your stuff in your backpack. He quickly put his and your backpacks over his shoulder before he moved over towards you. He picked you up bridal style and made sure the blanket didn’t fall off. “Shhh. It’s just me. We’re going home.” He said when you started to wake.

Pulling up to the house, Tom decided to shake you awake this time. You woke and looked around confused before you unbuckled and walked into the house. You crashed on the couch and watched Tom set your backpack in the chair.

“How are you doing? Today was hard.” You said.

Tom picked your feet up and sat down before he placed your feet in his lap. He laid his head back. “Today sucked. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.” Tom said with a sigh.

“Want to talk about it?” You asked.

“No. There isn’t much to talk about. I just need to get out of that mental mindset.” Tom said honestly. “How are you? That had to be hard to watch.”

You finally let a tear slip. “I’m okay. I just didn’t like seeing you like that.”

“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to see the hard parts.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay. I promise. It’s scary to think people actually go through that. I don’t want to see you or anyone go through this.” You whispered.

“Hopefully this movie brings light to these situations and starts a conversation.” Tom said, giving you a kiss on the head before releasing you. “Now no more talks of this. Let’s try to forget about today and watch a movie instead.”

Tom started up a comedy to try and bring the mood up. Harry joined you after changing into his pajamas. Mid way through the movie, you fell asleep. Tom looked over at you. He knew you being here helped you, but in his head he was worried about you and everything you were seeing. It was hard to focus on you and filming.

It’s now been a year since Tom finished filming Cherry. Tom invited you to come with him to film Spider-Man No Way Home. He went three months without seeing you after the pandemic due to his heavy film schedule for Uncharted. He knew those were hard days for you since you went from spending all day with him to not even seeing him.

Now Tom was doing press for Cherry since it is due to come out in a few weeks. He set up in the living room. Harry had got a ring light to make the videos look better. You were supposed to be out while Tom was doing his few interviews for the day, but you got back early. He still had one more to go. You decided to sit in your room so you wouldn’t interrupt.

Even with your door closed, you could hear Tom talking to the interviewer. What you heard made your heart stop.

“Tom, your brother and sister were with you when filming Cherry, right?” they asked.

“They were. Harry helped on the film. Even had a small role. And my sister, Y/N, came out to visit and stayed the rest of filming.” Tom answered.

“Did having them there help you?”

“It did. This was a role I had to go to a dark place. Having them there really helped ground me and bring me back from that dark place. They definitely had my back during these times. I was actually on a strict diet throughout filming. Y/N actually made Harry go get me a cheeseburger on her first night there because she knew that I needed a little more substance. I had two weeks worth of salads and she knew I needed a little more. On nights of hard filming, we would all sit in the living room and watch a comedy because it all took us a while to calm down from the day. So having them there was very important to me.”

“That's amazing to hear.” they said. “It’s always good to have family there for you. You said there were hard filming nights. Even though it was hard, which was your favorite?”

“There was one scene that was extremely hard to film. The entire day was hard. Sadly, it was my sister’s first day there. I didn’t want her to see those scenes, but it was good to have her there. The day was a couple of scenes that dealt with something with Emily. The whole day was based on that situation. It was a variety of emotions. I had to be scared, angry, sad.” Tom said. “I actually sent my mum a video from that and she was not happy. She called me immediately to tell me she didn’t appreciate it.” He laughed.

“Can you give us a hint of what that was?” they asked.

“I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s when I’m in the truck. You’ll know when you see it because it involves Emily and it’s very hard to watch.” Tom said.

“You say it’s hard to watch and that was your sister’s first day, how did she handle it? And how did Harry handle it?” you heard them ask. They were starting to dig deeper.

“Harry was the one that filmed that scene so I could send it to my mum.” Tom laughed. He knew Nikki would give him heck for it later, but he knew it was only because she cared. “My sister actually hated watching that scene. She’ll hate me for saying this, but she cried. It scared her because she said it felt real and she didn’t want to see anyone like that.”

“That makes sense. Both of you are close in age, how are the two of yours relationship? It has to be good for you to allow her to visit during such a hard movie.”

“We are very close. She’s my best friend. I can say this because she openly talks about it and helps raise money for charities, but she has anxiety and one thing that really affects her is her separation anxiety. It was great to have her on set because she brought me back to myself, helped me get out of that dark mindset. But at times, I felt I was more worried about her and making sure she was okay. Mixing the stress of taking care of her and the stress of playing the role was hard to take on.”

You listened and felt tears build up. You made Tom’s job harder. You felt a tear fall down your face and you held back a sob so Tom couldn’t hear. You immediately went to the closest and grabbed your suitcase. You started packing your clothes. Once you were finished you set it near the door and grabbed your laptop so you could find a plane ticket. Tom walked in as you were searching.

“Why is your suitcase out?” He asked, confused.

“I’m going home.” You said shortly.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I’m just a burden to you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me while you focus on filming. I just like being in the same city as you. I didn’t mean to add stress to you.” You said as a tear slipped.

Tom sighed, “You heard?” He asked. You nodded. “Did you hear everything?”

“I didn’t need to. I heard enough.” You said honestly.

“So you didn’t hear what I said after that?” He asked. You shook your head. “I told them that it was worth it. That I would go through 20 times the stress if it meant you were happy and safe. That your anxiety wasn’t holding you back. That I used some of the stress from caring about you to help with the film. You remember the emotional scene in Morocco.” You once again shook your head. “I used the stress to make that scene. I know that sounds bad, but I think that really helped me hit the emotion I needed.”

“That was a beautiful scene. From what I saw, it’s one of my favorites for you. It’s heartbreaking, but you made the viewers feel what you were feeling. That was because of me?” Tom nodded his head.

“I’m sorry for admitting to it, but just know, if we redid all of the filming, I would have you there from day 1. I love having you around. I have all this noise around me that is trying to change me and having you here helps keep me the kid from Kingston.” Tom said. “Please don’t leave. I really do want you here.”

You looked around at your room. You then focused on your suitcase. You thought about it. “I’ll stay.” Tom smiled when you looked at him. “Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything.” He agreed.

“If I am stressing you out, in the way, or affecting your work, you tell me. I’ll stay here for a few days or I’ll go home. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Your anxiety isn't a problem. It’s something you battle and I want to help you fight.” Tom interfered.

“I know. And you will. But if it affects you, it isn’t fighting, it’s a problem. So please promise me that you’ll tell me.” You begged.

“I promise. But know you are never a burden to me. You are my best friend and I love you. I want you here. Trust me on that.” Tom said as he pulled you into a hug. “Now, are you ready to go to dinner? We have an early day on set tomorrow.”

You nodded. You knew that your anxiety was a battle but you didn’t want to bother Tom. You knew he was telling the truth when he said you weren’t a burden. You knew the thought would come back, but you had to tell yourself that it was your anxiety. Now working on your separation anxiety would be worked on at a later date.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x sister #tom holland x holland!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x sister!reader #brother!tom holland #brother!tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland rpf #cherry #tom holland sister #holland!sister #holland!reader #y/n holland #tom holland angst

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colorisbyshe · 2 years ago

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Do you have any advice on how to buy a decent laptop? My laptop is fried and I need a laptop for work. My budget is 300$ can't afford to spend more and I can't buy refurbished where I'm at :(

Idk what you’re using your laptop for, so idk if I can really offer tips.

The laptop I just bought was a Lenevo Ideapad 1i for $130 but I just got that to be a sort of internet machine and not much else since it’s my “back up” laptop for when I’m out of the house and don’t want to risk my primary laptop.

I recommend going to reddit for advice on this type of thing. I think there’s r/laptopdeals and also r/suggestalaptop or even just r/laptops. You’re much better asking them, since they are more fixated on laptop trends, as opposed to asking me who a. doesn’t know shit about technology besides knowing I don’t like HP or Dell or Macs, b. is prone to impulse shopping even when my budget can’t handle it, and c. literally bought a new laptop five hours after my old junker collapsed on itself.

Legit all I did was scroll places like walmart and target, find cheaper models, and look up youtube reviews 😭 My only standard was not a chromebook and ideally a 13+ inch screen.

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thekitschdiet · 4 years ago

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my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet.

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days.

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress.

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram. Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it.

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even…

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera.

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead. Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit.

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read).

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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years ago

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He’s Just Not that Into You- Starker AU

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, smirking, in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour.

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all figured out.

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take your number and give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, he smiled at me or he picked up my pen-"

"But he smiled at me and he did not smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

"Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's sweet, the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors.

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like.

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend.

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him.

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if we fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. This kid. "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony likes him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't seem it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. "I'm Yoda, nitwit."

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had called Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it.

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs.

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand.

He finds Tony's number under Sexy Yoda which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials.

"Pete, you called." Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring.

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

"Ah, amazing- one sec." Then, quieter, "Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Not at all. So, where we at?"

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

"Run." Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls.

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

"Peter." Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, "Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"

Miserably: "No."

"Well then, like I said: Run."

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

"Run."

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner.

"Run." Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break.

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. "Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in.

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down.

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

"Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."

"Pepper?"

"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule.

"Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

"Might?"

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

"You can definitely ask someone out." Tony hums, "just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?"

"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday."

"No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

"He said no." Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy.

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged "I guess." He says forlornly.

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him.

"I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..." a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, "not much left?"

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

"I know." Peter whines, "but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

"Maybe he did really just-"

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

"I was beginning to think that was impossible."

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. "I haven't got anything to wear."

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

"I love that sweater!"

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. "It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

"It's my cat-"

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

"Hey!"

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?"

"He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little ravioli-cannoli."

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call.

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home.

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's if you're not early, you're late mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth.

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to.

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back.

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now.

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?"

Tony winces.

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half.

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door.

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine.

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone.

Tony glares at him.

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you."

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera.

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup. "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go."

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

Tony likes him.

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points.

1) Tony had given Peter his number and taken Peter's.

2) Tony calls him. They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter.

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so...handsome. Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon.

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time.

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute.

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be something.

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after.

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump.

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag.

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this.

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it.

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him.

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that soft, soft mouth against his own.

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in love."

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear.

Peter sits back, still fucking straddling him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?"

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and great, now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into nothing. There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're friends. I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You know, you know I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick.

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. Fuck, what a night.

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I like hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door.

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

It's been three days.

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after three days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends.

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls.

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers.

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook.

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

"No." Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone.

"Shit." He mutters to himself.

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.

He doesn't get an answer.

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the fuck.

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption another nice, sunny day

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not?

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not.

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom.

Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

"-ey Tony. Is this recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s.

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a flower garden. Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face.

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that.

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost.

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something.

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight.

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up.

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter.

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head.

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier.

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how wrong he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the rule, not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the hope and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him.

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading.

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are my exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them.

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food.

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases.

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

#starker #peter x tony #young tony #romcom au #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining #he's just not that into you au #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

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psiconautista · 3 years ago

Text

writing commissions !!! (actually cheap)

✿ COMMISSIONS ✿

Why am I opening these commissions? You see, Jazzy (me) is a young, autistic, frustrated artist and poor psychology student who needs to stop being such a hippie and earn some money so I can move in the city, eat, go to therapy, etc. Because we live in a system that requires us to climb the ladder to earn our basic rights to live as we should.

Besides getting money to live, I need to fix my laptop. It's 7 years old, the vent and battery are failing, but buying a new one would be too expensive and I need it for my studies, so I need to raise funds for that too.

JAZZY'S NO-NO'S

- ped0philia and statutory r4pe

- incest

- z0ophilia (yes, and furrys)

- necr0philia

- gore, torture, horror, and general bloody stuff

- r4pe and 4buse

JAZZY'S ASK-ME'S

- some kinks that make me uncomfortable

- anime or video game fandoms, because I know almost nothing about it

- fantasy (like vampires and stuff like that), I prefer to write humans, unless the general context is different [hence the ask-me*].

JAZZY'S OF-COURSE'S

- angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw, nsfw, or whatever you want that's not in the no-no's.

- original content and fanfic

- greek mythology !!! (love to write about this, in a respectful way, of course - bc of my helpol friends)

- self inserts, oc's, ideal couples from your fandom if you like

- scripts for subliminal manifestation

- safe space for everyone.

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jeonggukieandcream · 4 years ago

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Imagine Dracula finding out you’re afraid of the dark (x reader).

A/N Shameless self-insert 😂😂😂 I’m terrified of the dark and I’ve had a rough few nights with it, so I wrote down the things I thought about to help me sleep. I hope it comforts someone else. Never written for our sassy classy vamp so this might be totally shit. Written with romance in mind.

Warnings for: fear of the dark, crying (reader), general state of anxiety/anxiety attack.

Also, gender neutral reader and modern era Dracula.

Word count: 2, 417.

(He’s so ethereal I can’t - 🥺💙 every time I see him smile I drop all my uwus asdfghjk 🥺🥺🥺)

Your bedtime routine was that there was no routine. You slept when you were tired and you followed your body’s natural rhythm, which meant that you were often up during the hours which others considered to be unsociable. This meant that you got to spend more time with Dracula during his waking hours and sometimes, not that you would ever tell him, you even stayed up past being tired simply to spend some more time with him.

Dracula knew about this, of course he did, he could smell your truth in your blood, and he had taken it upon himself to be the person to tell you to go to bed when it was no longer funny to him just how much you were putting your body through. You had never treated yourself well and it always made the vampire’s chest ache somewhere deep within him as he sought to protect you against yourself. Your self-destructive streak was evident and so it was when you yawned for the umpteenth time that Dracula unfolded himself gracefully from his chair and stood up.

He walked towards you, his eyebrows raised and a hand outstretched. “I think...” He paused to look at you with an amused gleam in those dark pools of something foreboding and yet wholly safe, “that it’s bed time for the human, don’t you?”

You stifled another yawn as you debated fighting Dracula on it. He picked up on your thoughts, so well did he know you, and he cocked his head to the side in a silent challenge, a smirk growing on his aristocratic face. You conceded his point silently - you really were tired - but then something else you had forgotten slammed into you like a truck and you stopped. You just... stopped.

You held your breath as panic made your head grow hot from the inside and you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat before its rate picked up slightly. You had completely forgotten to buy new batteries for the string of fairy lights which were suspended to the side of your bed. You had your laptop, which you could put Netflix on while you fell asleep, but what if you woke up in the complete darkness? Your breath hitched and your world lurched off its axis as you slid your palm over Dracula’s, his long fingers folding over your wrist. You stood up and took a deep breath.

Dracula could feel your pulse racing beneath his calloused fingertips and he watched you curiously. What was scaring you? He could feel you wrestling for control over yourself and he admired your bravery; clearly whatever was upsetting you was something you couldn’t avoid or overcome and there you were, facing it anyway. The two of you stood there and looked for one another for a few tense seconds and then you seemed almost to shake yourself off as you kept your hand in Dracula’s hold. You trusted him and you walked to your bedroom, getting your body ready for bed.

Your mind, however, was racing and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep your breathing under control as every horror film you had ever seen, every horror book you had ever consumed and every creepypasta you had ever indulged in filled your tried and tired mind all at once. Even with your wrist tightly in Dracula’s grip (though you could pull away if you wanted to, you would have to make a real effort to do so), you still felt like you were lost in a stormy sea of your own feelings as fear, panic and a reluctance to go to sleep swept in like the tide and threatened to take you with it.

Dracula, who needed not to sleep at night, nocturnal was he, stood in the doorway and watched you as you sat down on your bed and took a deep breath. He chuckled as parts of the puzzle you had presented to him began to click into place with the surrounding jagged pieces. Oh, how fascinating you were. He wanted to dive into the very depths of your mind and explore every nook and cranny which was available to him. And, oh, your blood practically sung to him. You were intoxicating and your fear only made that scent so much more sweeter. “I could be wrong, Y/N, but I think you’re afraid of a few shadows.” Dracula stepped further forward into the room now that you were ready for bed and he shut the door behind him with a quiet but firm click. All that remained of the world now was the two of you; there was no room for anything or anyone else other than what the two of you had nurtured between you.

Dracula was fond of you, confused though he was as to the origins of this, and you were as equally fond of him. You had had an unconventional friendship and from this garden had some oddly shaped flowers bloomed. They were perfect. If you had to put a label on it, then you would say that you were romantically involved with one another, but Dracula had no interest in labels. He cared only for the truths contained inside your blood, and the ones he knew to rest within his own self, too. Those three words, spoken too much and yet not enough, had yet to be spoken by either of you, but the sentiment was still known and felt; echoed was it by the both of you so that neither of you could doubt the sincerity of the connection you shared.

You were beyond the point of where you could successfully lie (not that Dracula would allow you that luxury; he could smell a lie even before it occurred to you to tell one), so you nodded. “I’ve always been scared of the dark and I... don’t have any batteries for my lights.” Dracula’s gaze followed your own as you pointedly looked up at your fairy lights. “I might be all right with the laptop but... I just have to hope that I don’t wake up in the night. The thought of doing that terrifies me, I - “ You hadn’t even known that your eyes were watering and as the knowledge that you were truly scared began to sunk in, so too did you begin to cry; for emotions express themselves in the vessel which houses them. Tears, hot and heavy, poured down your cheeks and you met Dracula’s gaze with shame as you said, “I really don’t want to turn the light off, Drac. What if - what if I wake up in the dark and you’re not there and I’m all alone in my fear, I - “ You choked on your next breath and your eyes widened. Panic gripped your heart and being forced to face your most debilitating fear without warning shocked you; this only fed into the fear and on did the cycle continue.

“Y/N.” Your name, spoken in Drac’s clipped tone, broke through the haze in your mind and you dashed your hand across your face, wiping your tears away without care. “I want you to listen to me.” You nodded, taking several deep breaths as you wiped away tears which fell. All you had to do was slip underneath the duvet, lay down and close your eyes. So simple was it in theory, you did it every night with little thought beyond making sure the lights were bright enough for you, and yet it was, in practice, the most daunting task you could think of in this moment. “I want you to remain calm.” Your eyes flew up to meet Dracula’s. Couldn’t he see that you were the very opposite of calm? The vampire met your eyes and he smiled gently, a feigned look of patience in his eyes, familiar though he was with fears of his own which had plagued him for centuries. “You’re doing very well. Now - “ Dracula’s hand reached out for the light switch and you made a pitiful noise. He inclined his head as a reminder to listen to him. Something in his dark gaze enabled you to see this gesture for what it truly was. Dracula knew that you lacked the courage in this moment to turn the light out, that you couldn’t make yourself face your own fear even though it was your only option if you wanted to sleep tonight. So, he was taking that choice away from you - he was going to be the one to expose you to your fear, and he was also going to protect you from that very thing. Dracula had been isolated for over five hundred years and in that time his social skills had become... less than ideal, but he tried for you. Slowly were you teaching him the ways of modern society and through you was he quickly becoming acclimatised to such a muddled and chaotic world.

The room was plunged into total darkness with a sharp click and you gasped sharply, Dracula’s name leaving you in a rush. You were not shushed, you were not comforted with words. Instead, a piece of the darkness which was blacker than the rest of the room quickly made its way towards you and you made another small noise of fear, your throat thickened with unshed tears. A hand came out of the dark like it was made of it and curved to the shape of your cheek. A thumb brushed soothingly across your damp skin and you relaxed under the simple yet affectionate touch. Oh, how easily could Dracula snap your neck in this moment. He could rip out your throat, carve your heart out with his bare hand and let your warm blood pool in his palm... he was a predator and the scariest thing in any room... to everyone but you.

You, who had once stood in the middle of a brightly lit room and held a hand out as you waited patiently for Dracula to understand that his fears had been unfounded for so long. You, who had coaxed him out into the sunlight with patience and tenderness he had never seen and shown him who he truly was with his hands tightly held in yours the entire time. You, who snuck into The Harker Foundation using the key Jack had given you a long time ago so that you could steal blood bags so that Dracula didn’t have to kill during the times in which it was too dangerous for him to do so. You, in all of your mortality, had won the heart of the world’s most dangerous creature... and yet, he was the safest danger to you. Not even Death could reach you when your warlord was around. You were completely untouchable with Dracula and he made sure that you always knew that.

You.

The two of you were whole individuals all on your own and you could certainly survive without each other, but you chose not to. You woke up every day and you chose to love Dracula, some days was that sentiment expressed harder than it usually was, and Dracula did the very same with you. In that choice lay the power of the love you shared with one another and nothing and no one could ever or would ever tear you asunder.

“Let’s get you familiar with the dark, shall we? Come here.” Dracula swept you up into his arms like you weighed nothing and holding you cradled in one arm, your arms redundantly locked around his neck (he would never drop you; you were precious cargo whenever he held you), he pulled back the duvet and eased himself into the bed. You settled atop his body, your forehead brushing against his neck. “This isn’t so scary, is it?” Just as he spoke did the floorboards in your home begin to settle and you gasped and tried to move off of Dracula, but he held fast. “Y/N.” A warning. It was one you decided to heed.

With Dracula holding you to his chest, it was impossible for you to look anywhere around the room despite every nerve in your body screaming for you to do so. Dracula needed you to be forced to focus on him and only on him; your heart was pounding on your chest and he idly wondered if it was going to break free of your ribcage and fly free of the constraints of your body’s own making. As his large hand stroked up and down your back in fluid motions and the other hand remained resting on the back of your head, you found yourself slowly, slowly starting to relax. But one thing was missing. You wanted not only to feel Drac, but also to hear him. In your blood were you heard, for everything is in blood if one knows how to listen, and Drac began to sing quietly. You couldn’t make out the words and you knew not the language he sang in, but it sounded like a purring when you burrowed down further so that your ear was over his chest, and in the arms of the world’s most feared being did you find nothing but solace, peace and love.

You eventually slept, your body the most welcomed and wanted dead weight, and Dracula stayed with you throughout the night to make sure that he was there if you awoke once more. You were so full of fear, through no fault of your own, and he had sworn to protect you, even if it was only to himself. It was a promise he would honour through his actions; more reliable were they than words. You had reached out for him and he had answered your call and now forevermore were your fates entangled. Dracula knew now that he loved you, in his own ways, and he wanted to remain by your side forever. A creature of the night he may have been, but there was hope for you to join him yet and for that, for you, Dracula would wait. Forever, if he had to. He could be patient when he needed to be, having once slept for one hundred and twenty three years. A human’s lifespan was a mere blink compared to his own existence but when finally would you step into an eternal sleep, he would be there to rouse you and to make you his finest and final bride.

REQUESTS FOR DRACULA 2020 ARE OPEN! PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK! Headcanons, a fic or a matchup! 🥰🥰🥰

#bbc dracula #bbc dracula x reader #bbc dracula imagine #dracula #dracula 2020 #dracula 2020 x reader #dracula 2020 imagine #claes bang

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eintsein · 5 years ago

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Preparing for a New Semester

It’s around the start of the semester for many of us, and here are some things you can do now that’ll help you have a good one!

🎯 Think of goals you want to accomplish

Whether it’s personal, financial, academic, etc., listing down specific, actionable goals will help you improve yourself and give you something to work towards. Reflecting on last semester/year also helps.

📚 Finalize courses and plan future courses

Some colleges (and even some high schools?) have a period during which you can go ‘course shopping’ and audit classes you want to take. But regardless of whether you’re still trying things out or have already finalized your courses, it’s important to keep track of your requirements.

You can do this however you think is best - I have a google sheet with the classes I’ve taken/plan to take and when I took/ plan to take them, along with my major/degree requirements.

At the beginning of the semester, I review my four-year college plan. I rethink the cohesiveness of my course combinations and whether or not I still want to take the courses I’ve listed (this mostly applies to major electives), as well as when I think is best to take each of these courses. I’ll also run this by my advisor to make sure everything’s good.

🎮 Create a game plan for each course

Based on the syllabi and my experience with the first couple weeks of the course, I’ll create a plan that’ll hopefully help me do well in the course. This includes planning

What kind of studying I’ll have to do (e.g. make flashcards? write formula sheets? keep handwritten notes or typed ones?)

How I’ll tackle assignments (e.g. do one problem from the problem set every day? work on projects over the weekend? meet with friends to go through the homework?)

How I’ll organize course material (e.g. how will I organize my digital files? will I need to keep physical papers and notes in a binder? how many sections will I need in my notebook?)

💡 Plan your ideal weekly schedule

I combine findings from my game plan and my goals for the semester to craft an ideal weekly schedule. After factoring in fixed meeting times like lectures, discussions, weekly club meetings, and meal times, the rest of my schedule is filled with time blocks, and is sort of a hybrid between regular time-based scheduling and flexible time blocking.

I try not to make things super specific, e.g. I’d plan for 2 hours of studying then a 30 minute break, but what I actually do with the 2 hours depends on what I need to get done that day. This leaves room for spontaneity, but of course, you could always plan things by the minute if that’s what you prefer.

📅 List important dates in a calendar

These are mostly exams and breaks, but what’s also really helpful is listing out all the dates when assignments are released and due so that you can budget your time and energy towards working on those assignments.

For example, if I find out I’ll have 3 problem sets due the same day, I know I’ll probably have to do a bit of each every day during the week before they’re due.

However, if I have one homework due Tuesday, and another due Friday, I’ll probably spend more time on the weekend working on the Tuesday homework, and more time during the week working on the Friday homework.

🛒 Buy supplies

After going to my classes and finalizing my schedule, I’ll get the textbooks I need from amazon/chegg/online/the university store (as a last resort), as well as any stationery I don’t already have stocked up from the previous semester.

It’s helpful to go to class the first day and ask about the textbook because some professors, even though they assign a book, they’ll say it’s fine if you don’t have it, maybe because the lectures/lecture slides are comprehensive enough, or the library has many copies you can borrow.

In addition to that, there are some classes for which a textbook is assigned but is only used for reference, i.e. for additional explanation. In this case, I’d ask my friends or other people I know who have taken the course and see if they think the textbook’s useful.

Some classes also have special software that’s required, so I’d look into getting those. E.g. some classes use iClicker Reef which is like an online polling system that you have to subscribe to. Or for programming classes, different languages may require different environments, so I’d spend time setting things up on my laptop. This can take quite a while sometimes, and small errors in setting up can have pretty big consequences, so I’ll try to do this as thoroughly as I can.

🗑 Clean

It’s ironic that this is at the end of the list, but cleaning is one of the first things I do once I get back on campus. I’ll organize my digital files, clean my room, tidy my desk, keep last semester’s material in storage, etc. It’s always good to have the things you already have in order before you add/get more things.

Note: All the organizational tasks are in no way fixed. You should update each of them as you see fit, i.e. when you get more information as the semester progresses.

#tips #eintsein #mine #advice #studying #study hard #studyblr #studyspo #college #high school #organization #motivation #inspiration #guide #mymp

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

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Cyber Sex

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Genre: Fluffy ass smut

Warning: Masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, cussing, breast play

Summary: Your boyfriend Mark is currently in Japan for a conference and seeing you wearing nothing but his shirt leads to fingering yourself to his commands.

A/N: Based on the song “Cyber Sex” by Doja Cat. I am so excited for their comeback, I’m broke as a fucking joke but it’s fine. I’m FINE. Happy reading.

I wanna touch on you You see me in my room Wish you were here right now All of the things I'd do I wanna get freaky on camera I love when we get freaky on camera

The word tired wasn’t even enough to describe exactly how you were feeling right now. You were exhausted beyond belief to say the least. Being a full time college student; majoring in both criminal justice and journalism on top of having a full time job at one of the most prestigious and reputable law firms in your state wasn’t the most ideal situation, but you made it work. Well, for the most part.

Your mental health these days has been at an all time low; you were being overworked to the point where you were afraid you could suffer from either a mental breakdown or panic attack at the rate you were headed. Unfortunately, the only person who knew how to keep you from completely reaching the brink of insanity was currently thousands of miles away from you. Your boyfriend of over three years—Mark; was in Japan for a very important conference that the company he was working for sent him on in order to represent his department.

Although he was the youngest in his career field; Mark knew exactly what to say and do to build partnerships and to gain the trust of many other company shareholders. Your boyfriend was quite the charmer; sometimes you did grow jealous when you’d observe how some of his colleagues and a few of his clients would look at him in such a way that you thought only you were allowed to.

As much as you wanted to be upset with the women who were bold enough to ask him out even if they knew he was in a relationship, you couldn’t really blame them for finding him attractive and attempting to make a move on him. Mark was the definition of a sight for sore eyes. He was gorgeous and exceedingly handsome—however, Mark was way more than just a pretty face, a well-defined and extremely toned body and a deep, raspy voice that never failed to get you groveling at your knees.

He was extremely kind and generous to every single person he’s ever met in his life. You always considered him to be somewhat of an angel; an ethereal being here on earth because there was no way someone who was both ridiculously breathtaking on the outside was just as wonderful on the inside. Sometimes, you felt as if he deserved better than you. From a very young age, you never thought much about yourself; you didn’t care all too much about the way you looked, you didn’t consider yourself smart, funny nor did you have any impressive talent.

However, Mark never failed to make you feel as if you were the most beautiful creature he has ever laid his eyes on. He reminded you both physically and verbally on a daily basis that he loved you more than anyone and anything on this he’ll forsaken earth. You were his person, his soulmate—the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. You don’t know what it was that you did in your past life to be the lucky person to call him your boyfriend, but you would do it again and again if it meant having him in each and every lifetime.

It was hard having to be away from him every now and then—especially on the days when you felt as if the entire world was against you for not doing anything right. Deep down, you knew you were doing the best you can but it was as if your best wasn’t good enough for other people. Since Mark was a day ahead but six hours behind, you were sure he had to be busy attending a convention or going over his notes to prepare for meetings he had mentioned to you a couple of times in the last week.

As much as you wanted to call him just to hear his voice; even if it were just for a few minutes, you didn’t want to bother him. He had other things to worry about—the stress and frustration caused by your responsibilities would only worry him and you knew he didn’t need that. You made your way in to the bathroom and started getting ready to go to sleep. You wiped off any trace of makeup from your face, brushed your teeth and took off your clothes before throwing on one of Mark’s shirts.

Right as you were about to throw yourself in to the comfort of your bed, you heard your phone sound off on the night stand and because you had a huge feeling it was Mark trying to get in touch with you, you practically flung yourself across the threshold and reached for your phone while flopping down on your sheets.

Babe: Hey, you didn’t let me know if you got home. Are you alright? Can we FaceTime? I miss seeing your pretty face so much. 11:27 P.M.

Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier immediately disappeared; the want and need to talk to your boyfriend was far stronger than any amount of tiredness you felt. You got up and grabbed your laptop—preferring to look at him on a bigger screen since your vision wasn’t all that great from taking out your contacts. He was quick to answer before the first ring and you could feel your chest warm up at the sight of him.

No matter what he wore, he always seemed to take your breath away. Whether it was a flannel and some skinny jeans or just a pair of grey sweats when the two of you would lounge around your shared apartment—a blush would always seem to rise on your cheeks just because he was so annoyingly attractive. However, seeing him in a suit; looking extremely classy with his hair pulled back so you could see the entirety of his handsome face made your stomach sore in the best way. God, why did he have to be thousands of miles away from you?

“Baby!” You gave him a soft smile and sat up properly in order to get a better look at him.

“Hey—are you right about to go in to a meeting or something? You look very handsome babe.” He gave you his infamous cheeky grin—one he always flashed whenever you would compliment him. Mark, even at the prime age of twenty-seven could still get so shy and flustered at the smallest little things. Especially whenever you would go in to detail about his charming features or how his cute little butt always looked good in a pair of slacks.

He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment before biting his lip. You were soon growing envious at the thought of how many women got to see him looking like a Greek-God while in his element. Although you have only seen a few videos of the speeches he would give at conventions and conferences, you observed just how confident he was when it came to his craft. When it came to talking with other people—sometimes even when the two of you would go out to dinner with your parents, he was always so timid and soft spoken.

Yet, he seemed to change in to a completely different person in environments where he was meant to persuade clients in to buying stocks with his company. You couldn’t help but find it cute whenever he would act flustered around you—especially because in the bedroom and behind close doors, he was the complete opposite of shy.

“Oh—uh, thanks. I actually just came back from a luncheon. It was boring as hell and honestly I didn’t hear a thing anyone had to say, I was too busy thinking of you. God, I hate having to attend these fucking conferences—I mean I love traveling; it’s not like we can really go around anyway and even if we could, I’d use all my free time talking to you. I hate any moment spent without you baby. Tell me about your day; how was work? Did you finally take that exam you’ve been studying for these last two weeks—oh shit. I didn’t realize what time it was there, I’m sorry baby. You must be tired, I can call you back tomorrow—“

You waved your hand out at him signaling that it was okay. Even if you had to be up in less than five hours, you were perfectly fine with the idea of getting no sleep at all tonight if it meant talking to your favorite person until the sun rose.

“It’s fine Mark. I miss you too—so much. I can always message my professor and tell her I’m sick if I’m not feeling up to attending class tomorrow. Work was work; tiring and frustrating as it always is and school is well—school. Nothing new. I want to hear about you though—“

“We’ll get to me later baby. It hurts knowing that you’re going through something—I’m sure there’s more to it that you’re not telling me. I hate that you suffer by yourself and it’s even harder when I’m away and I can’t hold you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. But it will be and you know why? Because you have me. I got you y/n. You know you can always run to me—confide in me. That’s what I’m here for. To help carry your burden with you. I’m sure you’re well aware that I want nothing more than to carry your problems in your place. I would do anything just to make you happy—I hope you know that. I probably don’t say it as often as I should, but fuck—I just want to give you the whole world; the entire universe because it’s what you deserve.”

You could feel the tears brimming at your eyelids and if he was there with you, you would probably playfully shove him for making you cry with his sweet words before leaving chaste kisses all over his face. One thing you admired about your boyfriend, on top of the infinite amount of other things was his way with words. Mark preferred to show you through his actions rather than tell you with his words exactly what you meant to him but when he did speak up about his feelings, your heart would combust in to a million different pieces.

He even wrote you a couple of letters filled with love and adoration because he wanted to remind you when he wasn’t around that you were all he could ever want and need for the rest of his life. The two of you talked for around half an hour until you found yourself re-positioning yourself when your leg got a cramp for sitting on it too long. You didn’t think anything of it, but as soon as you fixed yourself, you were quick to notice how Mark’s jaw was now clenched as he began grazing his teeth along his bottom lip.

You’ve been with him long enough to know what his ministrations and movements meant; those two in particular usually meant that he was either uncomfortable or horny. But you didn’t understand how he could be either; he was fine just a few seconds ago—why was he looking as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Hey Mark, everything okay?”

“Is that my shirt?”

You looked down at his black champion tee that was practically swallowing you whole, just like most of his clothes that you’d find yourself wearing every now and then. He never failed to rave about how sexy you looked in his clothes and sometimes he didn’t have the willpower to let it stay on you for all too long before ripping it off and showing you the effect that seeing you in any of his clothes would do for him.

Your hair was a mess, there were bags under your eyes and your lips were chapped from not feeling the need to moisturize them; so you didn’t feel like you were at all ravishing or attractive in any way. Surely, seeing you in his shirt couldn’t be the reason why he was riled up all of a sudden—could it?

“Oh, yeah. I was so exhausted I just grabbed the closest item of clothing near the sink. Is there something wrong? It smells good. Just like you—wait, is it dirty? Did you not wash it yet? I can go change—“

“No no—shit—can you lean back or something? I want to see you, full body.”

You did as you were told and pushed your computer further away from where you were sitting before moving back just a little in order for him to get a better look at you. It wasn’t till you saw him gulp as a whimper fell from the back of his throat did you know exactly what was going on.

“Mark—“

“Fuck—you look so fucking breathtaking Y/n—so damn sexy—don’t get me wrong, you always look so beautiful. But when you’re in one of my shirt it’s just—why the fuck am I in Japan right now this is bullshit.”

A soft giggle fell from your lips; whenever Mark would get horny, that was when he was the most vocal about his emotions. He was extremely vulgar and his words were always so dirty; so naughty. It was funny listening to him talk on the phone to his boss or a couple of his colleagues knowing just how filthy and lewd he could be during your love making sessions. Your boyfriend was the definition of dominant.

There were a few occasions where he would allow you to take charge—when you would dominate him, you would put all your effort and energy in to driving him to the brink of insanity. The older boy didn’t know what he preferred; edging you until you would beg for him to let you cum, or being tied up to the bed while you ride him at an exceedingly quickened pace. You could feel the warmth building in between your thighs at his words on top of the frustration that he wasn’t there to help you with the forming orgasm you were now completely aware of.

“You know babe, now that you’ve mentioned it—I do feel pretty warm in here. Maybe I should take this off.”

You decided to mess with him; knowing that he was probably suffering and trying to hide the fact that he was definitely hard as a rock right now. His shirt was gently thrown to the side of the bed and soon your breasts were on full display for him. Watching his jaw drop at the sight of your bare chest only made you want to continue putting on a show for him. Slowly, you brought your hands up and cupped both your breasts in your hands—massaging and kneading your mounds all but gently before bringing your nipples in between your fingers and twisting them.

Breast play had to be one of your favorite forms of foreplay; specifically because Mark—well, the asshole was good at every single thing he did. Sports, cooking and baking, education, singing, cracking unsolved mysteries and blowing your mind in more ways than one. His fingers; they had to be the prettiest fingers you’ve ever seen on someone before and you weren’t being biased because he was your boyfriend.

Mark had such long, skinny fingers and he knew exactly how to use them. His hands were almost double the size of yours—yet your hands fit perfectly together as if you were made for one another. Although you were very insecure about your body, no matter how many times Mark practically worshipped it and reminded you how he loved every single one of your body parts; especially your face, breasts, thighs and ass, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confident in your boobs. Honestly, your breasts were one of the only parts that you genuinely liked about yourself.

Sometimes, you would wear certain tops that showed enough cleavage to get a rise out of your boyfriend and every single time, you did. Mark looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head and you had to stifle back a few moans from how good it felt. No matter how much you were enjoying this; playing with yourself in front of your boyfriend, you knew it would feel so much better if he was the one doing it to you.

“Fuck Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me. Shit—what I wouldn’t give to be the one fondling your pretty titties. Fuck—just wait till I get home princess. I’m gonna suck the shit out of them; you’re going to regret this. You’re so beautiful—I can’t get over how gorgeous you are. You’re really going to kill me.” You gave him a smirk and playfully brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Mmm—Mark—feels so good—“

“I bet it does baby—you look so ethereal—twisting your perky nipples like that. But I’m sure it doesn’t feel as nice as it would if it were me. Shit y/n—I want to titty fuck you so badly right now. I swear, it’s like your breasts get bigger whenever I’m away. Should I show you just how crazy you’re driving me right now?”

You immediately nodded in agreement; the desire to see Mark’s cock was seeping through your veins. You didn’t care if you came off too eager or too excited; it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve seen your boyfriend and even longer since he was buried balls deep inside of you. Sex wasn’t a huge deal in your relationship—well, it was both yours and Mark’s favorite physical activity, but unlike other couples, you cared about other forms of intimacy just as much as you did making love.

Mark was a huge fan of cuddling, spooning and holding hands. Your boyfriend was extremely clingy and overprotective whenever it came to you; but that was just apart of his nature. He wasted no time in yanking off his slacks; the outline of his cock was prominent against his grey briefs. You could feel your mouth water at the sight; to some people, penises were very ugly, but something about Mark’s always had you on your knees—begging for him to shove it down your throat. His girth was long and extremely thick. As soon as he took off his underwear, you suddenly stopped your movements and eagerly leaned forward to get a better look at him.

“Someone’s excited.”

“That’s the understatement of the year. I could cum right now just at the sight of your tits alone. Fuck—you’re the one who caused this painful ass erection baby, I wish you were the one who would solve it.” He spit on his hand and brought the saliva down to the tip of his cock; he lubricated himself and you could feel your breath hitch when he let out a soft moan.

“Babe—fuck Mark, there’s nothing more I want than to suck you off—“ If this were under different circumstances, you were sure he’d let out a snarky chuckle like he normally would every time you made it clear that you wanted to blow him; or if you wanted sex. You were always so soft spoken; so modest and you hardly ever were vocal when it came to voicing your desires.

You were more of the type to mess around with him; gliding your hands gently along his thigh, palming him through his pants and even hovering over his lap; grinding yourself against his dick while leaving wet kisses against the juncture of his neck. Whether it was because you were extremely turned on or because it’s been a while since you and your boyfriend were intimate, but sometime came over you and you felt yourself wanting to take over of this cyber sex session.

“Mark—close your eyes baby. I want to take care of you. Pretend I’m there with you and do as I say. Grab the bottom of your cock; bring your thumb along the vein and slowly pump yourself.”

Watching the veins on his neck grow made it adamant that he was enjoying your dominance and you used that to your advantage. He let out a very faint whine; you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t giving him your full attention and you were well aware that if you were to touch yourself, you’d be soaking at this point.

“Circle your thumb around your tip, and graze the slit as gently as possible. God Mark—I’ll purchase a ticket to Tokyo right now just to wrap my mouth around your cock.” This earned you a mixture of a laugh and a cough and you found yourself laughing along with him.

“Is that a promise? We can put this on pause and I’ll buy one for you; you don’t even need to pack a thing. All I need is you—keep talking like that and you’re going to lose your voice once I get home. I know I keep saying this, but it’s because it’s true and I can’t get over it—you’re so fucking sexy. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but just know that I love you; with every breath I take and every single beat of my heart. I love you more than I will ever be able to express to you in words. As much as I want to continue going in to depth about the love I have for you, you can’t be having all the fun here. Take off your underwear y/n—I can’t believe you’re wearing that one. How did I forget to take it with me? I remembered to sneak the matching bra in my suitcase—“

“So that’s where it went, I’ve been looking for it since you left—weirdo.”

“Hey, you have your kinks and I have mine. Now—take off your panty and do as I say.”

With a quick roll of your eyes, you stripped yourself free of your red thong and flung it across of the room. It was probably a mess now with all your pieces of clothing lying around, but you didn’t care. There was a flame burning in your core that you wanted to hurry up and get around to reaching your release. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had sex over webcam; but you felt as if this time would be different from your past experiences.

Not only did you miss your boyfriend terribly, but you’ve been daydreaming about the last time the two of you made love the night before he left and you could still feel the way his cock stretched out your walls. Your fingers absentmindedly made their way down to your entrance; you brought your index and your middle finger in your mouth and sucked on them before returning them back down to your folds.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck—such a pretty little mouth and an even prettier pussy. Tell me baby—who does that pussy belong to? Tell me while you drag your digits along your core y/n.”

You traced your fingers back and forth along your entrance; gathering some of your essence on your fingers and bringing them back to your mouth. During most of your sexual activities—Mark, whether it would be when he would finger you or when he would eat you out, would have you taste yourself so you were well aware why he was so addicted to the way your pussy tasted.

Although you were a big fan of giving him blow jobs, Mark was a professional at giving head. He ate your pussy like it was a delicacy and he was very vocal about how pleasuring you brought him equal amounts of pleasure himself. Next to fucking your tits and ramming himself inside of you, he loved going down on you. On the days that work was extremely stressful, or your classes were bombarding you with too many assignments; Mark would take care of you—either making you dinner or ordering your favorite food, preparing you a bubble bath, and sucking the life out of your pussy in order to take your mind off of your many frustrations.

You sucked your fingers dry of all your pre-cum and let out a loud pop before returning them back to their previous position. Multiple swears and wanton moans left Mark’s mouth as he continued to guide his hand back and forth along his cock all the while watching you shove your fingers inside of your cunt. It felt amazing; anytime the two of you were intimate—even on the days you were both exhausted beyond belief and just gave each other oral to both reach your highs, you could never get over the feeling of ecstasy and euphoria that came over you every time Mark would bring you to heaven with his tongue.

It was in that moment that you realized the last time you kissed him was almost a month ago. If your schedule wasn’t so hectic, you probably would have went with your boyfriend. The two of you were like magnets; everywhere you went, people could expect Mark to follow no matter where it was. Most boyfriends would get bored having to wait outside while their girlfriends went shopping, but Mark would follow you around to each and every store; he even gave his opinion on what he thought would look good on you and what he would love to rip off of you.

To your dismay, he would pay for everything even against your many complaints but like he said, he just wanted to make you happy. He felt bad that he had to travel all around the world a lot, so he felt like he wanted to buy you a couple of things to make up for being absent every so often.

There were days your boyfriend contemplated on quitting his job and finding one that didn’t require him to leave all the time; but this job had amazing benefits and because he was still so young, yet had a position that most of his coworkers twenty years his senior haven’t even experienced before, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find a job even half as good as the one he had now. But he would give it all up and even work as a barista or a cashier in a grocery store if it meant being able to see you, kiss you, hold you and go to bed with you in his arms every single day.

“Damnit y/n—ahhh—you’re such a goddess—my pretty petal—pump yourself harder baby. Faster—tell me how it feels. Grab your clit and twist it in between your fingers; I bet you’re like the Pacific Ocean right now. I’m sure you’re just as tight as you are wet baby. Keep going. Pretend it’s me; burying my long fingers in that tight cunt of yours. I can just picture how good you feel clenching around me. Flick your clit; ugh, I miss nibbling on it and taking it in between my teeth. I miss the way you would tighten your thighs around my head—and don’t even get me started on how much I miss whenever you would ride my face. I don’t think I can handle being away from you much longer y/n—it’s not even just because I miss fucking you—I mean I do—God do I miss railing the shit out of you—but I miss you. So much. I miss seeing your contagious smile that I’m sure could cure cancer, and your laugh that never fails to light up an entire room. I miss your lips and how they meld perfectly against mind. I miss looking at your beautiful eyes and the way you tell a story with them. I miss being the cause of the blush on your cheeks. I can’t wait to finally finish here and come back home to you. Just a couple more days baby then I’m all yours okay. Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you’re so patient? Thank you for waiting for me y/n—I—love you—“

You could feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyelids. Although you were just moments away from coming on your fingers, his words tugged on your heartstrings. Sure, he texted you every single day and told you that he would much rather be home with you; sat in between your legs and leaning his head against your chest while he played video games—but it was so heartwarming hearing him describe every single thing he missed about you.

“I miss you too Mark—I would do anything for you. I’ll wait for however long you need me to my love. I love you—I hope you know that you’re the only good thing I’ve got going for me. I don’t care what happens in the future; I just really want you in it.”

The two of you continued your movements; you quickened your pace; you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Your fingers felt so amazing being clenched by your velvety walls and you were actually doing really well with picturing that it was Mark fingering you. His movements were just as relentless and he even began fondling his balls. He tilted his head back and the sight made you whimper at how erotic it was. His neck; along with everything else on his body was long and you could still faintly see a couple of the love-bites you left on his collarbone. Before you knew it, you felt a sticky substance on your fingers and allowed yourself to come on your digits before releasing an embarrassingly loud moan.

“Holy shit—that was so fucking hot. Suck your fingers for me baby—help me reach my release—shit, shit, shit—“

His semen squirted out in rapid spurts and you were upset that you weren’t able to feel him fill you up to the hilt with his warm, creamy liquid. His hair clung to his forehead as sweat dripped down the sides of his cheek. You were sure if you were to look in the mirror, your hair would be just as tousled and your cheeks would be flushed.

The two of you spent a couple moments in comfortable silence; both coming down from your highs. He took a little while longer to come to his senses and you used this time to look at him in awe of just how breathtaking he was. This was a common occurrence right after the two of you finished your love making sessions; you would bask in each other’s presence and sometimes if you were still up for it, the two of you would talk until one of you would finally let sleep take over. Once you were both settled down, you gave him a soft smile and flopped on to the bed.

“Honestly, I think I’m going to get a good nights rest now. Thank you baby, that was wonderful. I’m sure I would have came faster if it was your cock inside of me, but that was a good distraction nonetheless.” He beamed at you.

“No, thank you. That was mind blowing as always y/n. I can’t wait until I have you in my arms—and on my cock. I love watching you as you cum—I wish you could see what I see, your expression when you reach your orgasm is so fucking tantalizing. I plan on having you the entire day when I come back home, so just be ready baby. Wait—you’re not going to bed naked are you—“

“Oh—I wasn’t planning to, but now that I know it’s probably going drive you insane—“

“You wouldn’t dare—fuck—just wait until I get my hands on you—“

You gave him a sultry smirk and began running your fingers in between the valley of your breasts. “Hmmm, I might just take the day off just to touch myself. Might even walk around the place naked. Too bad my boyfriend isn’t here to fuck me up against the balcony or up against the fridge—“

The growl that came from the back of his throat did not go unnoticed to you and you found the coil in your tummy tightening again. Only Mark Tuan could get you horny again minutes after getting you to come on your fingers. Even if he repeatedly called you sexy almost fifteen minutes ago; you felt like that word didn’t do him justice.

“That’s it—I’m telling my supervisor I need to come home. Tonight. I’m gonna kiss the shit out of you then fuck the shit out of you.”

You weren’t sure if he was just saying that in the heat of the moment, but you were soon growing excited at the thought of finally being wrapped in his embrace again. As much as you wanted to keep up the sexual banter; you came to the realization that Mark was only half naked. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat and his tie was flipped around the other way. He looked at you in confusion once you bursted in to a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“I hope you packed a few other dress shirts; you have cum stains all over the bottom.” He released a frustrated grunt before sticking his tongue out at you.

“They’re all in my dirty laundry pile. I was planning on using this one for the rest of the week. See, even the more reason to come home tonight. I expect you on your hands and knees once I get home. As fun as it was watching you fuck yourself with your fingers through webcam, nothing compares to seeing the real thing in person. I think it’s time you go to bed, you’re going to need all the energy you can get for what I have in mind for the both of us. Sweet dreams baby, I’ll see you real soon.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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anjalena123 · 4 years ago

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Profit Mate Review 2021.. Build an email list in 42 seconds

Profit Mate Review 2021 = Introduction If you're trapped in this extraordinary age, being quarantined or stagnant with social isolation, losing employment or getting tired of endless bills, it's time for you to think out of the box and start a versatile company. Of course, there's nothing more agile and productive than online business, the ideal option to start making money without leaving home. If you want to set up an online company, but you don't have any clients, and you don't know where to find those customers, then you've come to the right location. I truly appreciate the strain, and I'm trying to assist you with the launch of an awesome app to transform the conditions, which is Profit Mate. It is no wonder that Internet Marketing (IM) has brought some excellent advantages relative to other ways of earning profits. It helps you to work on a flexible basis (so that you can be with your wife and kids anytime you need to) and finish your job anywhere you choose (as long as your laptop has Internet access). Particularly now that the pandemic creates such chaotic results on Earth, you can easily create your own IM company while socialising and staying healthy.

Being mindful of these fantastic benefits, more and more consumers are entering the online market, making it much more lucrative than they were years before. But there's nothing to do with it, it's only a matter of time for the market to get crowded. The only thing that matters here is whether your company is strong enough to battle the highly competitive market, or whether it will quickly be out of date and removed from the competition.

To remain strong amid the rivalry and not to be omitted by all the other vendors, your company really needs this hidden tool that I've been investigating lately. This machine’s called Profit Mate. The name is quite self-explanatory as it will be your great friend to make easy commissions. I will show you more interesting information in the next parts of this review. Profit Mate Review 2021= OverView Creator

Brendan Mace

Product

Profit Mate

Launch Date

2021-Feb-24

Launch Time

09:00 EDT

Front-End Price

$16.93

Bonus

Yes, Huge Bonus

Skill

All Level

Guarantee

30 days money back guarantee

Niche

Software

Support

Еffесtіvе Rеѕроnѕе

Recommend

Highly Recommend!

Profit Mate Review 2021=What does Profit Mate Mean? Profit Mate is a cloud-based software that helps you quickly create an infinite email list from the internet in 42 seconds? All you need to do is check for "some keyword" & Profit Mate will instantly create a profit list. Would it sound very unlikely for you? Join me to see how true and beautiful it is!

Profit Mate is the amazing app that automatically collects up to 1,000’s of leads from “Contact Us” pages on the internet. The system also includes offers to present to newly generated contacts.

Without a doubt, this can be the future of Internet Marketing that you can stand the chance to reach your customers easily at a very short notice.

Profit Mate Review 2021=Features and Benefit There are a number of features and a lot of benefits with Profit Mate that I've mentioned a couple of them below:

Instantly producing 1,000 lead

Connect to leads right away through social media sites or email campaigns

Share campaigns directly on social media sites

Build email templates to contact the lead

Allows you to directly threaten website owners on the grounds of their own This may sound too good to be true, but the fact is within half an hour, you will get results without websites, autoresponders or tech things. Even if you start from scratch, this approach is designed to build a shortcut to success.

Imagine the same tech that produces huge passive income every day within 30 minutes of accessing the member's area. Profit Mate makes things possible for someone to get started with as little as 10 minutes from now, and you're not making something from scratch, you're immediately producing leads on demand, and delivering it to the "top offer."

Profit Mate will only take you 5-10 minutes to set up. When you've got it rolling, you should leave it in the background.

With the automation attached to it, you will waste too much time on something else and also collecting commissions from this wonderful computer.

You are collecting leads from the “Contact Us” pages on Google for any topic, which means you are just legally reaching out to people via contact data they have offered you, the app just automates it.

And the best part… this is 100% legal, and nobody can stop you from doing it over and over.

This technique has been embraced by several gurus for years and is now undergoing final review by beta users of the Profit Mate software. You don't have to think about whether the app will really work. A lot of people have made money out of it for such a long time. Profit Mate Review 2021= How to use Profit Mate ? Well, this is the crucial issue.

Not everybody is going to use Profit Mate in the same manner.

And if you're new to internet marketing...

...you will not know whether to advertise or how to get in touch with leads. As far as I can see, there are three key ways to make use of Profit Mate:

Selling Services To Local Businesses

CPA Marketing

Affiliate Marketing

The most difficut part of Profit Mate is finding the right keywords.

After all, you don’t want to sell services to those selling the services you’re offering.

So, in my bonus I will show you how to go after the right audience.

As I already mentioned above, Profit Mate is simple but work as a charm. Let’s me breakdown how it works so that you can understand why I can say so:

First of all, it downloads “contacts” in any niche from the “contact us” page of any search keyword on Google.

All you need to do is put in your "target" and click "Search Now!" Take, for example, the keyword "Dog Training." Then Profit Mate searches the internet and discovers all the website operators of the "Dog Training" affiliated pages.

In other words, you are immediately bringing together a list of heavily selected future clients to deliver your preference. All in "seconds" from the GO news. See more info in the section below part of my article. Profit Mate Review 2021= My Personal using experience It has been mentioned on a daily basis that data is the future of our planet. And thankfully, data is the biggest component of what you will get from Profit Mate. It's real that people pay a costly price to dig into the data field. That's why I'd deem Profit Mate to be the No.1 option for newbies. With Profit Mate, you just need to pay once for leads that are categorised into separate niches, which effectively ensures that you will run tailored campaigns so as not to spend time on something else.

In comparison, this Profit Mate is working on an autopilot. No additional activities will be involved in designing, customising, or "secret" pages. You have removed all the hard work and are free to spend more time with loved ones. I’ve tried this software as a tester recently. I’m going to instruct you how to use this amazingly handy machine and make the most honest review for you.

Finally, given the fact that the system is really convenient to users of all level, you will never believe how much it costs to grab one copy of the offer.

Let’s see the price in the next part of this review!

Profit Mate Review 2021= Price and Evaluation You just need to pay $16.93 to get access to this exclusive software that turns "Searches" into "Email Lists" on request. This discount offer is only available in a very short period, and this is your precious opportunity to hop on!

The FE offer of Profit Mate is set on a dime sale, which means the price will increase per sale. If you are interested in this product or find it useful for your business, just go ahead and take it right now! OTO 1: PLATINUM EDITION ($67)

Comes with UNLIMITED EVERYTHING as well as way more features.

OTO 2: DONE FOR YOU LEADS IN THE BEST NICHES ($197)

Get monthly campaigns from us for life. This is a “one time” payment with no recurring fees whatsoever.

OTO 3: DONE FOR YOU CAMPAIGNS ALREADY COMPLETED ($97)

Everything all set up and good to go for easy profits.

OTO 4: DONE FOR YOU API INTEGRATION ($77)

We are going to allow 100 people siphon the traffic directly from our sales pages. An excellent investment…

OTO 5: UNLIMITED TRAFFIC ($197)

License Rights: 100% commissions on the entire funnel.

Profit Mate Review 2021= Which person should buy this? Affiliate

Online Marketer

ECom Store Owner

Agency

Freelancer

Designer

Website Developer

Content Creator

Blogger Profit Mate Review 2021= Pros and Cons of Profit Mate

Pros Cloud-Based App – nothing to install or download, access from any device

Fully-fledged, online business solution!

100% newbie-friendly cloud app!

It’s all there… 100% automated

Turning those leads into sales

If you set up your Profit Mate, and don’t make at least $100-$1,000 in your first 3 days, then we will give you back double your investment.

Simple but efficient

Perfect to start your business

It can pretty much guarantee you’re as excited as we are right now…

Setup is fast and can be in as little as 10 minutes

You don’t need ARs, websites, other softwares, etc

You are “shortcutting” lead generation

This is 100% legal and safe

Cons Right now , There is no cons Profit Mate Review 2021= Conclusion

Profit Mate is, without a doubt, a perfect tool for you right now. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to leap straight into this gold mine and raise some money on the contributions of others from their traffic to their goods when you don't have to do any hard work at all! I highly recommend this product and you never have to think twice about purchasing it. REMEMBER! If you purchase through my link, you will be supported 24/7; That means you can contact me ANYTIME when you get trouble in using or can not contact with the authors/ product supporters. I will help you RIGHT AWAY!

This is the end of my Profit Mate Review. I hope that my article will lend you a hand in choosing the right tool for your business.

Well, I bet that you want to own this product now. So, click the sales button now before the price goes up.

Lastly, if you like this product, comment below and let me know!

-DISCLOSURE- I am affiliated, but not sponsored by any product featured in this article. The links in the article are my affiliate links which means if you click on one of them and buy the product I’ll receive a small commission. Not being sponsored allows me to keep my own opinions and provide product reviews without bias. From the millions of products, I pick the ones I personally have tested and have been highly impressed which I’ll then recommend. This is how I feed my family by making honest and useful reviews so that you can make informed buying decisions. I appreciate your support.

#Profit Mate Review #How to build email list #build Email List #Email Marketing #affiliate marketing #affiliate promotion #email list

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