Tumgik
#oh we're not good enough huh
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#delete later#im so exhausted and stressed. theres such a lack of stability and its freaking me out SO much. im just constantly tense and waiting#for something terrible to happen. im starting to think that im not gonna get to go to the entomology thing ive been hoping#how i can't do things independently and i must have been forced into this abd rhen it'll get cruel towards my friends abd i cant#and my aunt is getting worse abd my parents are waiting for me to fail abd have to move bsck with them which i can't do bc#to go to for months bc ill probably need to use that time off for preparing to move. which sucks. ive been looking forward to it#i was letting myself get my hopes up and that was a mistake bc now im rly disappointed. im hoping i can go but honestly#idk if it'd be financially responsible. same with comic con. its in october so i can probably go but it might not be a financially#good idea. it just. the things i was counting on to be stable sources of joy are not stable anymore and that's making everything worse#and im tryinh to be positive but im so anxious. theres just so much. i need to think about packing and try to figure out#how im going to move 1-2 hours away. how am i going to coordinate with movers whilst having to get the train to meet them#im disabled and cabt help move things so only getting one person ro deliver worries me. movers arent insured to take ppl with them#theres just SO MUCH. And i can't view properties easily bc of work so im missing out on multiple places that ive been contacting#ppl about abd i couldnt line up enough for last week when i was off bc it was too short notice and i just. its TOO MUCH TOO MUCH#im overwhelmed. im trying to think of the food im gonna cook when im there ahd the armchair im gonna buy#im gonna eat so much fucking lamb and fish oh ny god im excited for THAT#i wany to just go for the shittiest place to at least have some stability and bc i still have yhat kernel of thought that i dont#deserve comfort but im trying to fight it bc i do. i deserve somewhere nice and its unfair on myself not to find somewhere nice#especially as ill be living alone. i cant go for places that have no natural light or are four stories up or are a mile away from the train#station bc that will wreck my mental health and i wont have ready access to socialising that can stabilise me. gotta be fair#to myself. but THATS PROVING REAL DIFFICULT#im doing good saving though so thats nice i guess. fuck me moving is expensive. moving when you've got zero kitchen supplies is#even more so. gonna be an Interesting first couple days in the new place.#it will be. very bad. they keep texting me asking about it and i have to be positive bc otherwise itll become a conversation about#field all that shit when im like this. i just cant. that requires so much fucking energy i dont have. and i wont move back#id frankly rather die. and trying to not say that and decline politely sucks. bc they get the look of#oh we're not good enough huh#and i can't field their fucking feelings. i either need a pause button or a fast forward. id take either one#so many of these tags ended up out of order whoops. but these arent meant to be read anyway#i just need to scream bc idk what else to do
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iceeericeee · 10 months
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I wonder how many tags i can add on to this
#there must be SOME kind of a limit otherwise posts would get suuuuuuper duper long like is it just 30?#idk but i'm going to find out by simply maxxing out the character limit for each tag and finding out the limit of tags for each post lololo#this is gonna be great. i just have to remember to type without ever using the comma. it shouldn't be too hard right? fuck i almost typed#the comma i'm already bad at this smh my head. also if your still here i commend you. you have a better attention span than i do.#i'm already starting to get bored holy shit this is not happening. i gotta power through this. FOR SCIENCEEEEEEEEEE. or somethinggggggggggg#but fr idk what else to say. maybe just saying that i don't know what to say will be good enough? but does that even count?#I don't even know anymore. ffffffffuck. this is gonna be a while huh? also holy shit if you're still here omg u deserve like. a prize or#something because u definitely didn't have to stay and read all of this bull shit. lololol i typed out bs but decided to just spell the who#thing out just to make it go by faster. i'm so lazy. this is only the nineth tag HOW will i make it to 30. i am sobbing the adhd is adhding#very hard rn. are you still here? bruh this is insane. i have somehow managed to keep ur attention this long and it's just me spouting#absolute balderdash. wait do you know what balderdash even means? i don't care if you do already i'm gonna tell you anyway. balderdash is#basically just another word for nonsense. boom. you learned something new today. balderdash equals nonsense equals this damn post.#why did i decide to do this in the first place. it was a dumb idea. i don't know if i can even keep going. this is only the *counts tags*#it's the 14th tag. we've got a long way to go boys. men. soldiers. comrads. friends. besties peeps. marshmallows.#where was i going with this? oh yeah. trying to max out the limit for tags. dang i almost typed a comma there. i haven't done that since#i think the third or fourth tag. dang that feels like such a long time ago. not for you guys probably. it feels longer because i have to li#type it all out and stuff. so it's definitely gonna feel longer for me. are you still here? good lord don't you have better things to#be doing than reading all of this? we're already on tag number 18. it feels like i should be on the thirtyeth by now. or however it's spell#'toast' you might be wondering 'why are you typing out the names of the numbers instead of say '9' or '5'?' well you see. young one.#this is a strategy i'm using to make each tag slightly longer. even if i don't know how to spell it. it'll make it just a little bit longer#anyway. i got off topic. not that there was ever a topic to begin with. unless it's about making this as long as i can.#which i am apparently good at doing. i guess. are you STILL here? do you seriously have nothing to do? i guess i'm flattered you stayed thi#whole time. instead of reading something else you stayed here. with me. listening to me talk. on the twenty-third tag. oh yeah its tag 23#except now it's tag twenty-four. how crazy is that. this little talk is almost over. only 6 tags away if memory serves right. this's strang#i kind of don't want this to end. but i know it should. after all there is a limit. but all things must come to and end at some point i gue#i'm running out of things to say. it's probably a good thing it's almost over. hahahahah............... but i don't want to go. i don't wan#to leave this post. i've worked so hard on it. and for what. just for it to end. are you still here? yes? good. i'd hate to end this alone.#thank you for indulging me and my craziness. the end is only 2 tags away now. you can go ahead and leave. i'll be okay on my own. really...#...you're still here? i- i don't know what to say. i suppose a toast is in order. perhaps. for this journey. this stupid dumb post i though#would be fun. i'll make it short. it's the last tag after all. this was fun. but i will never do it again. so long as a i live. i'll miss y
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mandorinart · 1 year
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sonic IDW 61 spoilers in the tags
#gotta agree with the general opinion ive been seeing that this past arc was quite disappointing#there were too many ideas being tossed around that couldnt fit into the pacing#the premise could have easily been as dire as say the stakes in frontiers for example#but the dire problems that arose were solved with 1-2 panels and made it seem like “oh jk we're good now”#ie. sonic got trapped in that warp trap but was freed like literally a page later i think#ive seen others point out the discontinuity of shadow using chaos control after getting overworked by the fake gems#he really pulled the I AM THE ULTIMATE PROTAGONIST buff to make it work huh#i think this arc should have been as long as the metal virus arc to really capture everything they wanted to do with it#instead we got unfinished/half-baked character “growth” from everyone#i wonder if they originally planned much more for this arc but had to cut it for some reason#it feels choppy in the way that the ending of frontiers was choppy like things were obviously removed last-minute#ranting in tags bc my thoughts are not organized enough to write a proper post lol#im glad this arc is over tho cus tbh i think IDW comics should focus on plotlines that dont “feel” like they belong in the mainline games#this arc was ambitious and suffered bc of lack of audience interaction which could be filled in by gameplay#the comics get their audience interaction from exploring character strengths and weaknesses#anyway yeah. glad this arc is over. looking forward to the new arcs#mandokusai
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ferritins · 3 months
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TOO HOT TO HANDLE (HOT TO GO!) | J. TODD
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“I don't care how many years I've known you and how goddamn hot it is; we have not been friends for long enough to excuse you wearing short shorts in my home.”
“Short shorts?” Jason splutters. “They’re not fucking Daisy Dukes! These are US Army issue nylon tricot weave PT shorts! The Marines wear these!”
Yeah, you think, but I strongly doubt the Marines make them look borderline obscene.
Your eyes keep tracking to the thick, corded muscle of thighs, the ochre-gold of tanned skin cut through with dusk-rose scarring, the way the hems of his shorts strain against the sheer bulk of him.
(You’re ogling him. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to look away.)
“Actually, they phased silkies out of Marine PT uniform issue in 2011.” You say, mouth dry. “The US Armed Forces is responsible for many atrocities, but your slutty choice in shorts is not one of them.”
Realisation of what you've said strikes like a meteor through marzipan. You start throwing silent prayers to every god you can think of that Jason doesn’t pick up on a particular detail of your response.
You can practically see the moment that any divinity that exists in the universe decides to spite you, and the second half of your comment registers in Jason’s head.
He blinks hard, mouth dropping into a comedic little ‘o’.
“Wait a minute. You think my shorts are slutty?”
"...I think that if you can look me in the eye and tell me that three inch inseam shorts aren't a questionable choice when you're packing heat like that, you're lying to both me and yourself.” You reply diplomatically, tearing your eyes away from those delectable thighs.
Jason's ears flush crimson.
“Oh, like your shirt is so much better with that many buttons undone.”
You start, glancing down at yourself. Sure, there's more décolletage on show than you'd perhaps feel strictly comfortable with in public, but your shirt is hardly indecent. You look back up to find Jason's eyes trained on the hook of your collarbone, right at the point where it dips into the suprasternal notch; his eyes flit up to meet yours, pupils blown, as a patchy flush floods his cheeks.
“Wha— are you a bloody Victorian? Is showing a little bit of collarbone in my own apartment really scandalous enough to make you blush?” You ask, laughing a little with incredulity.
“Nothing Victorian about either of us, if the way you were staring at my legs is any indication about how your mind works. ”Jason retorts. Your jaw drops, and Jason snickers. “Yeah, sweetheart, I noticed.”
You feel your blood rush to your face at a frankly mortifying speed, Jason's smirk turning distinctly wolfish at your clear embarrassment.
“Okay, so we're both godless slatterns. Good chat. Glad we can end this here before I die of embarrassment.” You mutter.
Jason quirks an eyebrow.
“Slattern? Why, was ogling my thighs doing it for you, sweetheart? Thinking about how one of them would feel between your own?”
Jason's voice tips into a baritenor rumble at the end of the sentence, the sound sending heat dripping into the pit of your belly.
You can see that goddamn smirk on his face, caught somewhere between teasing and a flash of teeth, clearly enjoying every second of your fluster.
You've got to get your lick back.
“Depends. What was it you were thinking about, Jay? How pretty my collarbone might bruise after you sink your teeth into it? Or is touch more your thing, huh? Wondering about my skin under your fingers?”
The sound that leaves Jason is punched-out, his pupils blowing out to the size of dinner plates.
Your lips quirk up, something like victory in the corners of your smile.
Before you can gloat, you find yourself pressed up into the back of your sofa, Jason we'll and truly in your personal space.
Hovered over you, he’s all supposition; unyielding muscle and sharp lines, hard planes to your soft curves, flooding your nose with the scent of cologne and gunpowder.
You find yourself blinking up into a pair of ink-black pupils, ringed ever so faintly by teal.
“You are playing,” Jason murmurs, “a very dangerous game.”
“Am I winning?” You laugh.
“Fuck.” Jason mutters, husky and emphatic, then; “if you knew how long I’ve wanted—“
He breaks off, a savage huff of breath leaving him.
“Look, if you’re just teasing, I need you to say something now, before—“
With a roll of your eyes, you press your lips to his in a brief, close-mouthed kiss. When you pull back, Jason looks sun-stunned, hope and disbelief warring in his eyes.
“Idiot.” You snark fondly. “You didn’t answer my question. Am I winning?”
A moment, then two, then he’s brushing butterfly kisses to your cheeks, temple, the tip of your nose and the soft hinge of your jaw before, finally, finally, his lips press to yours, close-mouthed and chaste.
The two of you trade slow, shy kisses, soft and sweet until you catch Jason’s full bottom lip between your teeth, tugging slightly.
You hear his breath catch, and the kisses abruptly turn filthy; Jason licking at the seam of your lips until you open up for him, the electric pressure of his tongue against yours, sharp, incisors nipping sharply at your bottom lip.
You could die happily like this, you think; Jason’s hands rucking up your shirt, his mouth on yours, the knowledge of how he tastes burned into your synapses.
When you part, your chest is burning with air hunger, and your lips are spit-slick and puffy.
As much as you’d like to continue, you’re desperate for a cold drink, and only some of the sweat at your hairline is courtesy of your marathon make out.
You say as much to Jason, who groans, full throated, and sucks a savage mark into the side of your neck.
“Okay, you absolute menace. I’ll go grab you a coke, and as soon it gets below 95 in the shade, I’ll show you just how much of a winner you are.”
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wallahi england is a godforsaken nation and not just because of r*shi s*nak and k*ir st*rmer. how is the humidity 81% at 11pm at night??? “marley aren’t u african and from desert country” YES. WHERE HOT ALSO MEANS DRY, AS GOD INTENDED.
at least desert country is arid heat.
anyway: Jason Todd good hot, England bad hot (and also a failed state run by cartoonishly corrupt devils, but enough abt britpol).
this one goes out to my fellow Jason Todd apologists @sems-diarie and @stars-n-sweets !!!
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fxllfaiiry · 1 year
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─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚
✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader
✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.
✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.
✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!
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Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel. 
You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were. 
You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it. 
Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily. 
Like today, you got him some coffee. 
"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone. 
"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week. 
"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk. 
He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you. 
"This isn't how I like my coffee." 
"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice. 
"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time." 
"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words. 
"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all. 
"Yeah?" 
"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it." 
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad. 
"No."
"Sunflower…"
"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.  
"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed. 
"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?" 
"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder. 
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it. 
But, of course, you were wrong. 
Everything was going great up until a few hours ago. 
Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple. 
If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed. 
"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry. 
"I was just tryin-" 
"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity. 
"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you. 
"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears. 
"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission." 
Don't cry. Don't cry. 
"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier. 
"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch. 
"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in. 
"Not now, Hobie." He growled. 
Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this. 
"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that. 
At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them. 
"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back. 
"Next time make sure this doesn't happen." 
"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.
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seospicybin · 13 days
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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
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PART 2
Bangchan x reader. (s)
Chapters: Part I
Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)
Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x
"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.
"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.
"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.
"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.
You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"
Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.
The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."
Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.
"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.
"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.
For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.
"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.
It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and
"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.
"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.
"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.
"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"
You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.
"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.
He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.
With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.
"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.
It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.
"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"
Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"
Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.
"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.
You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.
"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.
You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."
Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.
"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.
You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.
He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.
For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.
Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.
"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.
Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.
Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.
"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.
"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.
"I'm waiting for you."
When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.
"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.
"Why?"
"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.
"We?"
"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."
"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.
What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.
"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.
"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.
"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.
And then, there's something called human error.
-
At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.
Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.
He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"
The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.
Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"
"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.
"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."
"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.
Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"
"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.
"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.
The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.
"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.
"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"
"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.
"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.
"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.
The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?
"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.
"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"
"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."
"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.
You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.
The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.
"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.
"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.
Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.
"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.
"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"
You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."
Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.
He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.
"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.
Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."
"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.
"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.
Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.
By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.
"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.
"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.
"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.
"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.
"No!" You flatly reject the idea.
"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.
You steadfastly shake your head.
"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.
"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.
"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.
"Doubtful. Very doubtful."
"Why?"
"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"
Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.
"— in hell."
That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.
"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."
"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.
This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.
Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.
"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.
You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.
"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."
"No!" You shout.
"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.
You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.
"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.
-
From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.
Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.
Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.
"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.
"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.
"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"
"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.
"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.
"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.
You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.
As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.
With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"
Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."
Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.
"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.
Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"
Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.
It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.
"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.
"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.
The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.
"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.
"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.
"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.
"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.
The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.
"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.
"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.
"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.
"Yeah," you answer.
"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.
"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.
"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.
You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."
Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.
"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.
You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"
"Not a chance," he shortly answers.
Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.
With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.
Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.
-
It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—
"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.
There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.
Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.
Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?
Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.
What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.
Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.
Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.
As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.
"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.
If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.
"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.
In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.
To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.
However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.
When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."
He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."
Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.
"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.
A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."
So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.
Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.
He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.
He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.
As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.
Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?
He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.
"Chris..."
The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.
An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.
"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.
Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.
He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.
His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”
There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.
He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.
With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.
You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."
"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.
"Condom?"
"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."
A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.
Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.
"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."
Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.
"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.
The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.
Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.
The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.
There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.
With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.
"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.
"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.
Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.
The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.
Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—
"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."
Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.
It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.
-
When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—
It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.
The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.
"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.
Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."
You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.
"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.
"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.
It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet
"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.
"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.
"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.
There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"
There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.
"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"
"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."
"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.
You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.
"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.
He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"
Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.
"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.
Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.
-
It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.
Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.
Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.
With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.
After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.
"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.
Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.
"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"
In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."
"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."
Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.
"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.
You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.
"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.
You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.
"I have a date," you tell him.
Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.
"A–a date?" He stammers.
"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"
His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.
"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.
"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.
"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"
"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"
He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"
You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"
For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.
"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.
You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"
He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.
"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."
You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.
"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.
That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.
"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.
You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.
"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.
"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."
That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.
"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.
He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.
"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.
"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.
"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.
You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."
In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.
"Don't go on that date," he demands.
"Why?"
"Because I want you here."
"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.
He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."
"What question?"
"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.
You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"
"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"
It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.
You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.
To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."
-
It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.
It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?
There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.
But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?
It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.
Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.
"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.
While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.
It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.
You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."
See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.
"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.
You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"
It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.
"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.
"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."
"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."
Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.
"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.
"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.
His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.
"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.
"Partly."
"How so?"
"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.
Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.
Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.
"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.
The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.
"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"
A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.
Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.
"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.
When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.
Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.
The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.
"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.
He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.
"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."
The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.
He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.
Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.
Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."
There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.
Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.
He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”
He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.
"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.
"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"
The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.
"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.
"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"
You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."
He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.
"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.
"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.
"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.
This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.
"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.
It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.
"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."
On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.
With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."
-
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ornateorchid · 3 months
Note
i NEED to know what sex with poly141 is like
a/n: im getting to this after 2 months?? 3 months?? ...oops! anyways i wrote this in more of a headcanon format so if you're not a fan of it i apologize
john is in charge, just like out on the field. he likes having the authority role over you and the boys, telling them what to do and how to treat you and each other. he's gentle though and praises a lot. he knows they don't want him barking orders when everyone's trying to relieve stress.
"that's right, just like that."
"you're being so good, just for us."
"so perfect. look at how gorgeous you are."
he really loves it when the boys are rough with you. it gets him so hot and bothered just from watching them play with you. when they fuck your throat and leave you gasping for air, he's practically drooling. and when they're taking turns with you, pounding you into the mattress until you're screaming, his eyes are glued to the spot.
"you're taking it so good, doll. so tight, just for our boys."
"that's it, just like that. you're gonna make us cum."
"we're gonna fuck you until you can't walk, baby."
he can't resist fucking you when you're all fucked out and tired. his boys are always so rough with you, and he loves how blissed out you are when he slides into you. he fucks you slow and sweet, his mouth peppering kisses along your jawline and neck. you'll whine and beg him to go faster, but he doesn't let up. he'll keep at his pace and tell you that you can cum when you're ready. and you always do.
"such a good little whore, cumming on my cock."
"you look so pretty like this. all fucked out and ready to take more."
johnny is the brattiest of the four. doesn't matter if he's dominant or submissive, top or bottom, he's making some sort of snarky remark. and you love every bit of it. he's also the quickest to get his mouth on you, or anybody. he loves to challenge authority. he doesn't mind being put in his place. he'll be a brat, and then the second your hand is in his hair and he's forced to his knees, his eyes are already half-lidded and he's begging for a taste of you.
"come on, jus' give it to me already."
"i know you wan' it."
"fuck, i wan' you so bad, baby, please."
he's also the biggest tease, always running his fingers along the edge of your waistband, or up your thigh, or across your chest. he tries it with the boys to rile them up. and when they've finally had enough, johnny's grinning because he's finally got them.
"wha' are you gonna do, huh? you gonna punish me?"
"yeah, that's right. go ahead, put me in my place."
"come on, come fuck my throat."
he likes the feeling of being manhandled, pushed into a wall or onto his knees. and his favorite way to be punished is when his face is pressed into the mattress, and someone's hands are in his mohawk and holding him there, forcing him to take their dick. praise drives him crazy.
"im gonna come in that pretty mouth, and you're gonna swallow every drop since you want to be a brat."
"look at you, taking it like that. such a good slut."
"you look so good stuffed full, johnny."
kyle is the biggest romantic out of the bunch. he's always showering you with affection and compliments and little gifts. he's a sweetheart and a total sucker for love, and you know he wants to give it and receive it. he'll do everything he can to make sure you're feeling good and relaxed and safe and he knows just how to do it.
"god, you're so perfect, babe. you're gorgeous."
"don'tcha wanna feel my hands on you?
"can i touch you? can i make you feel good, sweetheart?"
he also has the most delicious moans and whines (they all do, but his are the best). he'll let the other person have the reins as his face is pressed into the sheets and his ass in the air while someone works him apart with their fingers. the other will fuck his mouth and make him drool all over the pillow. he's a sensitive lover and he'll cum with a few tugs of his dick.
"fuck, yeah, right there. 'm gonna come."
"oh god, oh fuck, just like that."
but other times he can be relentless. he'll work your hole until you're cumming over and over again, and he's still going. he's not stopping until you can't take it anymore. his thrusts will be hard and deep and fast and you'll be crying out his name. he'll slow down and pull out to hear your whimpers of despair, only to press his fingers into your gaping hole, and work you back up to the edge.
"that's it, baby. scream for me, let them know how much of a slut you are."
"look at how wet your cunt is. all for us, yeah?"
"gonna fuck you so hard, gonna fill you up. fuck."
simon is a wild card. sometimes he's gentle and tender and loving, and sometimes he's rough and degrading and controlling. it depends on his mood. like john, he loves to sit back and watch. and when the other boys are all over you, he's standing behind them, whispering into their ear. he can't help it.
"do you think she can take more? look how wet her cunt is."
"that's it. look at him go. fuck her harder."
"that's our angel, taking two cocks in her greedy holes."
but when simon's on his own with you, his hands will be all over you. he's desperate and needs to be touched. his cock is always aching, and his fingers are itching to slide into you. he's got an insatiable hunger. and once you're on his lap, riding his cock and bouncing away, he'll be grabbing at your ass and hips, pulling your body close to his, and whispering all kinds of filth into your ear.
"c'mere, baby. i wan' my mouth on ya."
"please, please, please. fuck, need it so bad."
"look at how wet y' are for me. such a good girl."
simon's a bit more possessive than the rest, possessive over you and everyone. he likes to leave hickeys all over everyone. it's a sign that says 'this is mine. don't touch.' and it makes him hot when everyone has a reminder of what happened the night before. or he'll leave bruises on their hips, just as a sign.
"you're all mine. all fucking mine."
"don't even think about moving. 'm not done with you yet."
"that's it, just like that. fuckin' beautiful."
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bywons · 4 months
Text
✧ YOU BELONG WITH ME ENHYPEN—
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╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇
( ✶🪽 𝓢. ) 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 x 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 1796 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 !𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ✦ ◞ 𝒞ATALOGUE?!
๑´ ³`) ノ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!
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LEE HEESEUNG tightens the grip around your waist and pulls you in until you bump by his side. you could easily figure out the fake smile plastered on his face, holding you tight by his side in front of his friends. 
“so, is he more handsome than me?”, he whispers as soon as his friends are gone. it took you a couple of minutes to realise why he had a death grip on you, “you seem to like him a lot.” a single conversation with him has heeseung going tomato red now.
“what do you think?”, you scoff, looking him dead in the eye. 
“he's got the old fashioned looks, a proper gentleman with a perfect sense of timing. your kinda guy,” his eyes twitched while defining the guy, oh how bad he wanted to punch him.
“you know, you sound like one of my friends with terrible taste trying to set me up on a blind date”, you laugh, wrapping your hand around his suited biceps. “yep,” heeseung scoffs, “he will go blind soon.” 
“what do you think of me—?” 
“i love you a lot”, you roll your eyes and chuckle, now walking side by side with heeseung, his grip still present on you, “nobody can replace my bambi boy.” 
“your bambi boy huh?”, heeseung realises he can never be angry with his pretty girl when he melts the second he hears his nickname by you, pressing a small kiss on your cheeks and pulling you in. 
“you want it to be somebody else?”, you smirk.
“hey!” 
PARK JONGSEONG keeps a steady frown on his face, watching you finish up your pastry. he's not the type to sulk over things, if there's any problem the first thing he does is talk it out with you, and maybe have a small ice cream date later. but it's been 4 days now, that stupid frown won't leave his face, accompanied with his cold replies, even on this café date!
“is something bothering you these days?”, the fork softly clings against the plate, you try to hold in a giggle, “babe you know can tell me anything,” his sulky face is kinda cute.
“nope, i'm all good,” jay forces a smile. red flag, he's not calling you ‘love’.
“jay, you haven't even touched your pudding,” you sigh.
jay puts on a good serious thinking face, slowly withdrawing his hands from the table and releasing a deep sigh. this thing looks really serious. oh poor jay, what's wrong?
“well”, jay clears his throat before he goes off, “i really didn't think you were like this y/n i didn't expect this from you, if i did something wrong you could've just said that you know how much i love you i would do everything!”
“jay, what are you—”
“and the fuck kinda name's benjamin anyways? like hell we're not in the 19th century, y/n you could do better.”
oh. so that's what it's about. he thinks you're cheating on him, because you left your shared apartment for some benjamin guy for 3 days straight. you don't blame him though, you owe him an explanation.
“babe,” you sigh, “it's not what you think, remember benjamin? my cousin sister's child? i visit her to babysit him.”
“.....the one who called me uncle?”, jay's expression softens, instead he's shocked now.
“yeah!”, you giggle, putting your hand over his for comfort, shooting him a sorry look. “i hate that kid”, jay scoffs, you sigh.
SIM JAEYUN lets out a groan while he stares at the anime plushie in your arms. you're basically burying your face in it snuggling it, and if that wasn't enough the plushie is a man!
no way jake has to compete with a fictional man now.
“why do you need that ugly plushie when im here…”, jake whines, plopping down right beside you and scooting even closer, “am i not good enough?”
“did you just call toji fushiguro ugly?”, a frown casts upon your face as you whip your head around to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. poor him, he's too confused and jealous for this, he really wants to replace the plushie in your arms. “you're out of your mind jake.”
“i am in fact very willing to be out of my mind and be crazy for you,” jake rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you until there's only a pillow between you and him, which he soon throws away. the fresh smell of laundry and cologne floats from his sweatshirt and hits your nose, it always puts you at ease, and you miss the warm afternoons with him, just snuggling and all over each other, giggling over random past memories. “but i know for sure that plushie will…not do that for you,” jake breaks you from your trance.
“how about you show me that?”, you wink at him. heck, have you been staring at him too long?
“now you're talking”, jake smirks, snatching away the plushie from you as he sets it aside, practically throwing himself on top of you, engulfing you within his strong arms to press a series of kisses on your face, “fuck that ugly plushie.”
PARK SUNGHOON sighs, entering your shared bedroom with a bored face and arms folded. some obvious yet subtle signs he's disappointed by you, but the last disappointing thing you remember you did was eat his tiramisu. what crime have you committed now?
the bored expression quickly turns into a playful one as he clears his throat, tilting his head to one side, “are you resisting the urge to kiss and make up with me right now?”
“no not really”, you answer instantly, typing away on your laptop. but then you realised what he actually just said. with squinted eyes and a smile, you turn your head towards him, “kiss and make up? what exactly happened for us to do that?”
“i think it's about time you stop texting your best friend”, sunghoon sits down beside you giving you the meanest eye roll ever. he scoffs, “i don't get why she hates me and you don't do anything about it. it's like you two backbitch about me.”
“you won't believe it but i actually rant about you all the time to her”, you giggle, sunghoon's cheeks blooms from underneath, “she's sick of my extreme love for you.”
you let out a gasp as sunghoon pulls you in his lap, a coy smirk playing around his lips, “she should be. everyone should know i'm the best boyfriend in the world.”
you hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer, “so was the kiss and make up part just an excuse to kiss me.”
“maybe”, sunghoon chuckles, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, “who knows.”
KIM SUNOO stares straight into your phone screen, while listening to you ramble about your day and how it was. and when it glows to reveal the lock screen, sunoo feels infuriated.
“seriously now y/n, i can't believe this!”, sunoo's sudden shift in position causes your head, which was lying on his shoulders, to hit the bed frame, “like this is too much”, he seethes.
you utter a small ‘ouch’ and rub the hurt spot, a confused “what?” leaving your mouth, “wh-what do you mean?”
“you know what i mean, love”, he rolls his eyes, taking your phone and holding up the lockscreen in front of your face. it's not him. it's a random tv show character that he doesn't even know about. it should be him, it must be him, not a guy he doesn't know. “am i really being robbed of my wallpaper privileges?”, he sighs.
you let out a heavier sigh, putting up one of those smiles sunoo can't help but blush to. “don't you worry, love. maybe i don't want other girls to perceive my man. but if you're begging for it, i'll change it”, you giggle.
sunoo let's a sigh of relief and scoffs, “i'm not begging—”
“on one condition though, my head hurts!”
“aww come here, let me kiss it better”, he smiles, pulling you in again.
YANG JUNGWON literally just spawns right behind you as soon as the guy you're talking to at your friend's birthday party decides to make a move on you.
“go find someone who's not taken dude”, jungwon's eyes are green as he spits his words out, your waist already accompanied by his hand. the poor guy leaves in a hurry, not wanting to mess with the intimidating yang jungwon.
jungwon then turns to you, a shadow over his face, he's obviously upset about this, jealous even. “if you were that bored you could've called me”, jungwon mumbles.
“you were in the restroom, ‘won”, you sigh, placing a hand on his broad chest you pout, “are you…jealous—?”
“of course i'm jealous, i leave my pretty girl alone for one minute and some hipster comes and thinks he can have my girl?”, jungwon pauses for a moment to look into your cresent eyes looking up at him, you're smiling, “no. fucking. way.”
“well, it's good for you that i'm yours and only yours”, you reassure him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and you have his breathtaking smile back. he grins at you before kissing you back, “now let's go home, i hate this party.”
NISHIMURA RIKI follows you around like a lost puppy after the dance class with his heart in shatters. just an hour ago, your dance teacher assigned partners for the upcoming festival. and it just looks like the universe is definitely not on riki's side cause you two were not paired.
“listen i'm gonna tell mrs. lee to make you my partner and i'm very sure she will listen, trust me! because you can't just—”
“riki, it's okay! it's just a project it'll be over till next week!”, you comfort your boyfriend ‘cause you know mrs. lee is a tough case, she won't crack at all. “besides, we'll be practising in the same hall.”
“exactly! that way that asshole can tease me how he got you”, riki sighs, plopping down on the benches, “i want to dance with you.”
“and i want to dance with you”, you sigh, sitting down beside him, “but you know mrs. lee would never rearrange.”
riki pulls you in a tight hug. he breathes in the vanilla scent of your hoodie before pulling back, gazing into your eyes, “if that dumbass holds you by your waist, i will go insane.”
“i won't let him do that”, you laugh, hitting his chest.
“can't we just drop out of this already? we can be the audience instead”, riki whines.
“i agree, kissing in the audience and booing them would be way better”, you nod your head. niki laughs, “you're the best girlfriend.”
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my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻
Promises, Promises.
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warnings - smut. cursing.
I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.
3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.
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You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"
Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?
"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."
The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.
"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"
He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.
"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."
"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.
"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."
"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."
You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.
"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."
"I'm... what?"
"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."
You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.
"Is that so?"
"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."
He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.
"He's wrong."
"Is that so?"
You roll your eyes.
"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."
"And why not?"
"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."
Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.
"He's your age."
"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."
He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.
"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"
Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.
"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."
"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."
"Me too."
Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.
He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.
Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.
You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.
"Strip."
You blink at him, processing.
"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."
You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.
Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.
"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"
"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."
You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.
"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."
"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."
He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.
"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"
You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"
The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.
"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."
His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.
"House first."
"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.
"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."
He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.
You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.
You'll deal with the repercussions later.
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🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠 🪱
I was tagged by @runninriot - thx love ❤️
Today I'm thinking of ...
...Eddie, stupidly high and with a mad case of the late-night munchies, stumbling his way up to the fast food counter. The guy behind it has his back turned, talking and laughing at the freckled girl in the kitchen, but when he hears Eddie approach, he turns. 
“Hi,” Eddie mutters. “Can I have a- fuck!” 
“I'm afraid we're not that kind of business,” says the apparition behind the counter. 
“... huh?” says Eddie. 
The apparition laughs, a sound like bells. “Never mind, what can I do for you?” 
“Are you an angel?” Eddie blurts, and scowls when he gets another laugh in reply. He thinks it's a fair question. Regular humans don't have eyes with golden flecks of toffee and hair like spun honey and sun-kissed, caramel skin that looks good enough to lick, and fuck he is so hungry!
“No, man,” says the guy, gesturing at his name tag. “I'm Steve. I work here.” 
“Steeeve,” Eddie slurs. Even the name tastes sweet. “Hi, Steve, I'm Eddie, it's a pleasure to- … Wait, is God, like, in trouble or somethin’? Forcing his angels to work in the service industry? I've never been much for organized religion, but-” 
The girl in the kitchen doubles over laughing, sending a large, silver tray rattling to the ground. It goes boioioing. 
“Okay, listen,” says Steve. His voice is so gentle and slow, Eddie could listen to it for hours. “How about you just let me take your order?” 
Right, food. He needs food. Like a whole truck full of it. 
“Stevie,” he declares, letting the v sound linger on his tongue, soft and velvety. “I'd be forever grateful to you if you could fast forward me one of your finest Whoppers. No, you know what? Make it a Double Whopper.” 
“Oh,” says Steve. Those pretty eyes go serious, and oh no, Eddie has disappointed him! “I'm afraid I can't.” 
“What?” Eddie croaks, blinking tears from his eyes. “Wha- … Why not?” 
“Because, Eddie,” Steve smiles, and taps his name tag again. Or the logo on it, more specifically. “This is a McDonald's.”
He gets Eddie a Big Mac. Eddie returns a few nights later, more sober, to discover that Steve is still just as angelic. Him ordering a Whopper becomes their little running gag. Their first date is at a Burger King.
🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟
Tagging: @rozzieroos @stervrucht @arelliann @dartlekey @eyesofshinigami
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God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.
And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."
Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it
A Glimmering Collar
AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!
~2.6k words
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You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.
Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.
Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.
Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.
You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.
You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.
"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"
"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.
They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."
Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."
The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"
"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?
"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.
Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"
"Mack and John," You echo weakly.
"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"
You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.
Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.
You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.
You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.
You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."
"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."
The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.
You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.
You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.
John nods once, "There won't be any problems."
Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.
You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.
The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.
The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.
But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.
You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.
But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.
Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.
Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.
It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.
The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.
The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.
It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.
Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.
You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.
You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."
"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.
"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"
He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."
"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.
His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"
You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.
He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."
"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.
Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."
"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."
Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."
"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.
"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.
The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.
"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.
Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.
"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.
He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."
You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"
He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"
"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.
"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."
"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.
"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."
"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.
His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."
"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.
"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."
"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.
Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."
"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.
He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."
"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.
He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."
"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.
"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.
"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.
"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.
"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.
He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."
"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.
"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"
It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."
It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."
"You'll stay?"
He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.
"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.
"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.
"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.
"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.
"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."
He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.
You smile, "Bean's a good name."
He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.
You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.
There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.
Part Three
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harunayuuka2060 · 9 days
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Vil: Are you sure you're not dealing with a creep, Epel?
Epel: Huh?
Rook: Roi du Poison is only worried about you, Monsieur Crabapple.
Epel: Why would you be worried?
Vil: You're talking to an unknown person; consequently enough, they only do when you're in danger.
Epel: Because they're protecting me!
Vil: Without anything in return?
Epel: Yes!
Vil: ...
Vil: Call them.
Epel: What? No! They're probably busy right now.
Vil: According to the two potatoes, you can call them any time of the day and they will answer.
Epel: ...
Epel: I don't know if they still use the one they used yesterday.
Vil: You should try then.
Epel: ...
Epel: *checks his call logs and taps the unknown number*
Epel: *waits for them to answer*
MC: Hello.
Rook: Oh la la~.
Vil: Shh!
MC: You should be safe with your friends. Why are you calling me?
Epel: ...
Epel: *grumpily* They're calling you creep and I hate it!
MC: ...
MC: It means they are your good friends.
Epel: You don't understand!
Vil and Rook: *are both impressed with this 'friend' now*
Vil: We're driving you home.
Epel: No! I don't want to!
Vil: Are you still upset about earlier?
Epel: *frowning*
Rook: We were wrong about your friend, Epel.
Epel: ...
Epel: *his phone rings*
Epel: *answers it* Hello?
MC: *stern* Get in the car.
Epel: ...
Epel: *pouts*
Vil and Rook: ...Pft-
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Can you pretty please write a fic where Logan and Deadpool are having an argument about how they should be fucking the reader, like going over techniques while the reader is just drooling and mindless like “whaaa”
hell YEAH i love getting fucked stupid by big strong men >:3333€
this is a rly good prompt btw so i could GLADLY expand on this but for rn here’s a snippet 😌
warning: dp, painal, sadomasochism, mild transphobia, slurs, degradation, overstim, dubcon, daddy kink
anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/bussy
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They talk about you like you’re not even there.
Well, physically you were right there with them. Mentally you were nowhere to be found, certainly not on their conversational level. Wade had been bouncing you in his lap for god knows how long. His cock in your cunt had thoroughly fucked your train of thought off the tracks. Your internal monologue was nothing but bitchy whimpers and primal burning for more. Welp. What do you expect? Back to back orgasms will do to that to you. You couldn’t even recall how the argument started, and context would’ve really been helpful.
“Wow! Okay! That’s a shitty thing to say to our guest! Wanna apologize and maybe try that one again, JK Rowling?”
"Oh, get fucked. That's not what I meant and you know it." Logan kept his firm hands on your shoulders, assisting your bounce, since your legs were damn near liquified.
“Mmmmm, ah, gah-fuuuck… Wh... Wha? Huh?”
“How is that not what you meant?" Wade, questioned, maintaining his steel grip on your ass. He felt that he had to protect you from the big bad wolf and his transphobia. "You just said he’s not a real man because he has a pussy. A tight, sweet, JUICY pussy that feels like a fleshlight full of microwaved angel dust. And yet SOMEHOW this makes him not a real man to you? Maybe you’re just not man enough for HIM, sugar-tits!”
"I said you gotta fuck him like a real man. You’re being too good to him. It's gonna fuel his ego, and I’m not letting you turn him into a spoiled brat. Fuck him in the ass, that'll teach him a lesson. Show him this shit ain't a joke."
"No way! Ass is ass is ass is ass. Everybody's got an asshole, peanut, and newsflash? They all feel the same. But this boy's pussy? This hot buttery premium A5 wagyu bussy that's—SQUEEZINGmyfuckingdicksotight, oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, angel baby, sweet boy, you feel so GOOD! Making your Daddy feel so good, good boy!"
Praise was easy enough to process. It didn't require any cognitive effort on your part. You didn't have to weigh in and have an opinion, you just have to take it, and be grateful for it. "Hah, fuck! Thank—thank you, Daddy! FUCK! Wade! WadeWadeWadeWade—WADE! WadeWadeWade..."
But Logan wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious. Make him take it up the ass, or I will."
“Un-be-lievable. You know something? You must be the one guy in this universe who could see a whimsical forest path that leads to a magical unicorn fountain, and says 'Oh, no, none for me. Let me go spelunking in the poop-chute, thank you very much!' And if that's not the single gayest thing I've seen in my entire—"
"WADE, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"Eeep!"
Oh, you poor thing. He nearly gave you a heart attack! It's terrifying when someone yells out of nowhere, especially when that someone has you naked and vulnerable in their hands. Logan had slammed you down on Wade's cock when he yelled, completely stopping the scene and trapping you between them. Woah. Time out. Shit has officially just gotten real. You and Wade held bated breath, and traded a glance that said "We're cooked. Nice knowing ya."
But Logan just laughed at you both. Delighted by the atmospheric tension he had just created.
"Heh... heh heh heh..."
Then he relaxed his grip on you, and those big strong calloused man hands started to explore. They massaged your shoulders, rubbed your neck and jaw, and groped and squeezed wherever they pleased. All the while, his hot breath, tinted with whiskey and malice, ghosted over the shell of your ear as he talked. He spoke very firmly. Targeted. Slow. He wanted you to get every fucking word.
"Listen, bub. I’m not about to question whether or not you’re a man, okay? But I’ll say this. When real men wanna take cock? It hurts. Oh, it hurts real bad. And most of ‘em don’t get the luxury of a cushy little cunt that’s meant to take a pounding. No, son. Real men get ripped apart by cock. It makes them cry and scream and sometimes their tiny little rims even bleed because of it. And you know what? They love it. They love how much it hurts them. Cause they’re men. Strong men. And you’re no fuckin’ better than them, you know that? You think just cause you got another hole that you can take the easy way out? Everything's gonna be peaches and cream, huh? Nuh uh. Not on my watch, you little shit. You wanna act like you're such a fag? Well then you’re getting fucked like one of us too."
“Jesus fucking Christ, babycakes, if you don’t want him up your ass I’ll GLADLY take the heat for you.”
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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month
Text
Baking
Hardersson x Toddler!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: You make farm cookies
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"No! No! Wait-"
You giggle, smashing your hand into the bowl of baking ingredients.
The flour puffs up into a cloud of white at the impact and the eggs squelch under your hand.
You laugh hysterically, a wide smile splitting your face open.
Magda had only turned around for a second to grab your sippy cup but you'd already taken control of the bowl, rubbing your hand all over the ingredients, delighting in the way that it felt under your little fingers.
Magda sighs, grabbing some kitchen towel and wiping the muck off your hand.
Only to forget that you have another hand to do the exact same with.
"No-"
You don't listen, slamming your second hand into the mixture and more vigorously moving it around.
"Why don't you listen to me?" Magda laments as she plucks you from your kitchen stool and makes her way towards the sink. She tickles your tummy. "What is it about me, huh? You listen to Momma."
"Momma!" You cheer, head whipping around to look at the door like Pernille's about to walk through it.
"She's at a match right now, princesse," Magda reminds you," Which is why we're here making her cookies to come home to. Remember? Cookies for Momma?"
"Cookie!" You repeat as Magda washes your hands clean of any remaining mixture.
"Yes, that's right. Chocolate chip cookies for Momma." She snags your sippy cup, pressing it to your lips until you take it yourself and start drinking.
"Cookie," You say, nodding and Magda returns you to your stool.
She hands you a spoon.
"And now we mix," She says.
You slam the spoon into the bowl and hit it aggressively against the sides.
"Gently," Magda reminds you, standing behind your stool and wrapping her hand around yours to guide your movements," We're making these with love, remember?"
"Love! Love for Momma!"
"That's right! Love for Momma."
Getting you to be gentle is easy enough with Magda helping you and you seem delighted by the cookie cutters Magda has bought for just this moment.
"And this is a duck!" She explains to you, holding the cutter up for you to see," And what do ducks say? Do you know?"
You do know.
Momma read you a duck book yesterday.
"Quack! Duck say quack! Quack! Quack!"
"Very good," Magda praises you warmly," Now, do we want to give Momma a duck cookie?"
You cut out a duck cookie.
"And this one is a sheep. What do sheep say?"
"Sheep go baa! Baa! Baa!"
Cutting out all the cookies takes a while because this pack of cutters contain almost every farm animal Magda can think of and she's adamant about you learning what each one is and how they sound.
You both got a little stuck on what the alpaca sounds like so a quick Google search later, you were both grunting and humming and growling at each other while Magda put the cookies in the oven.
Pernille returns home on a high, two goals and an assist and a win for Wolfsburg.
"Something smells nice!" She calls as she enters the house, hanging up her coat and placing her shoes so they're lined up between Magda's and yours.
You come skidding towards her, a little slippy in your elephant socks on the wooden floor.
"Momma!" You cheer, hugging her legs tightly and kissing every inch of her you can manage.
"My Princesse," Pernille coos, raising you up into her arms," Did you have fun today?"
Usually, Pernille would take you to the game to watch but you had been a little bit tired when you woke up this morning so Magda had offered to forego the game entirely to watch you.
"Cookies!" You answer, smacking big wet kisses on Pernille's cheek," Cookies for Momma! With love!"
"You made cookies for me?" Pernille asks," With love?"
You nod.
"Made with lots of love," Magda says, coming into view with a plate of warm cookies," Princesse did all the work herself."
"All the work?"
"Well, I helped a little."
"Is a duck cookie!" You say, plucking it from the plate," Duck goes quack! Quack! Quack!"
"Oh, wow," Pernille says," You're right! Ducks do go quack!"
"Duck, quack! Sheep, baa! Cow, moo!"
"Did you make farmyard cookies?" Pernille asks and you nod.
"Like farms! We go to farm?"
Pernille grins. "Well, let me eat up all these delicious cookies you made for me and then we'll have a look at going to a farm together."
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yourmidnightlover · 6 months
Text
just thinking about bucky and you leaving a mission together on one of the jets.
it was a grueling mission, nearly losing a dozen civilians and even bucky himself because you simply weren't fast enough.
so, you needed to feel closer to him. you needed to feel him... all over.
"jamie?" you whispered softly as he steered the jet home.
"yes, doll?" he tilted his head back a little, signaling for you to come closer to him.
you didn't reply, you merely stepped closer before throwing one leg over his lap and sitting in it, straddling his meaty thighs. meeting no resistance, you threw your arms around his neck, burrowing your nose in the crevice between his jaw.
"i'm here," he sighed, his flesh hand beginning to rub along your back. "we're okay."
"need you," you ground down against his pelvis, feeling his dick twitch in his pants, growing harder by the second. "please? wanna be close."
"fuck, baby," his hips thrust up to meet your eagerness. "wanna be closer than this?" you nodded eagerly. "you're gonna have to be a big girl... do it yourself until i can set autopilot."
you whined in his ear, gently biting his earlobe, "but i-"
"no 'but's," he sharply interrupted. "there's too much chatter and traffic up here right now. if you can do it yourself right now, i'll make it up to you once it's clear. that's a promise."
it was your turn to sigh before you began to grind against him even harder, seemingly having made up your mind.
your breathing grew heavier in his ear once he was fully hard, providing much better stimulation for your throbbing clit. you reached between your two heaving bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his pants before simply grinding against his hard cock with no barriers between you.
you were so wet, he nearly slipped inside accidentally. his head would catch perfectly on your clit, eliciting the prettiest squeals from your mouth.
"that's it, my pretty girl," his hand that was once rubbing your back went between you to rub your clit. "let me hear how good you feel. i can already hear how wet you are. do you like getting off on my dick like this? rubbing against me like a pretty little slut? my pretty little slut, huh?"
"your pretty little slut, yes," you nodded against his chest before you rose to your knees, this time lining his cock against your entrance before slowly lowering yourself on him. "yours, all yours."
"atta girl," he chuckled with a growl, his dick twitching inside you once you were lowered all the way. "so wet for me, my perfect girl."
you began to ride him leisurely, enjoying how close you felt to him. you were able to feel his pulse in his cock, radiating from your core to your heart. part of you swears your heart was matching his quick pace.
"just like that," he threw his head back momentarily before quickly remembering why he wasn't properly fucking your brains out and went back to focusing on the task in front of him. "such a good slut for me," he felt you clenching around him before your rhythm faltered. "are you close? i want you to cum when i tell you to," he felt you nodding against his shoulder as his pace barely sped up on your clit. "love feelin' you squeeze me like this baby. love when you listen to me so well. such a good girl for me," you were getting closer.
"please? so close," your breath hitching wasn't the only sign you had, your pussy was gripping him like a vice.
"i know, baby," he chuckled. "i feel it. wanna cum with you. just a little longer," he began thrusting up to meet your hips. a few more perfectly timed bounces and he was ordering you, "cum for me. i want you to cum all over my fucking cock."
with a scream, your entire body was slumped against his, going slack from how powerful your orgasm was.
"oh my-fuck! keep going! keep going!" you begged him as he continued to fuck up into you as he came, his cum painting your walls.
"so fucking good, 's so fucking good," bucky kept muttering, talking you through your high.
he stayed inside of you as the two of you caught your breath. after 10 minutes, the traffic must've cooled down because he kept your legs wrapped around him as he stood, walking you over to one of the cots they had set up in the jet.
you were so exhausted, all you remember is him cleaning up the mess between your thighs, him whispering how strong and wonderful you are. him whispering how much he loved you, and that was all you needed to fall into a peaceful rest.
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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months
Text
Melt
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"And if I die because you made me melt, oh well."
Summary: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool
Word Count: 1.8K
Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)
Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, semi-public shenanigans (we're assuming there's a big, tall fence around the pool lmao), Frankie being our 🐱 eating king, Frankie being the sweetest and so obsessed with you, poor Pope probably needs to clean his pool after these two leave, reader wears a bathing suit, can swim and can get sunburned
A/N: HEY HOMIES, IT'S YA GIRL!!!!! What better way to celebrate National Catfish Day than with a lil poolside Frankie 🤪 It has been hotter than Satan's ballsack out here in the midwest, so this song is dedicated to this ongoing heatwave and this song that I am absolutely obsessed with and is SO Frankie coded 😭 This is the first thing that I have worked on since May so apologies in advance for bein' a little rusty, but I'm excited to finally be back on the writing train again!!! ily all, big forehead kisses for each of you MWAH!!!! 🥹 poorly beta'd bc that's how i roll
Love it or hate it, if there was one thing that you could always count on, it was the fact that summers in south Florida were hot. 
Really fucking hot. 
So when Pope had offered up his pool for you and Frankie to use while he was out of town for the week, it was a no brainer that the two of you had ecstatically accepted his invitation. 
“We really owe Pope for this one, huh?” You smirked, setting down your beach bag on one of the lounge chairs spread across the pool deck, pulling out some sunscreen and towels for you and Frankie. 
“Yeah, I guess we do.” Frankie sighed, nodding his head in agreement, admiring the crystal blue water sparkling in the heat of the hot summer sun, hands on his hips as he looked out over the pool. 
You couldn’t help but giggle as you stood behind him, secretly whipping out your phone to take a picture of Frankie inspecting the pool before quickly texting it to Pope, knowing what a kick he’d get out of it. 
You: Thanks for letting us use the pool! New pool boy is taking his job very seriously. 🫡
Pope: Haha. Would have looked better if he showed up in a bikini. Have fun u 2. 
“What are you laughing at?” Frankie asked, turning around to the sounds of your sneaky snickers before feeling his own phone buzz in his pocket, looking down to see a text from Pope. 
Pope: Your wife thinks you’d make a good pool boy. Told her you need a bikini first. Have fun with Mrs. Fish today.
Pope: Not too much fun though. 🤨
Frankie: Sorry to disappoint. 
Frankie: What’s that supposed to mean? 
Pope: I just cleaned the pool before I left. Don’t need any baby fish swimming around in there if you know what I mean 🐟 💦 lol
Frankie: Jesus christ, Pope.
Frankie shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. 
“You think I’d make a good pool boy, huh?” He smirked, planting a chaste kiss in your lips as the two of you laughed. 
“The best. But only if you give me another kiss and put some sunscreen on me so I don’t turn into a lobster.” You teased, kissing him right back before pulling away to grab the sunscreen bottle, passing it off to him. 
“Fair enough.” 
As he took the bottle from you, starting to shake it up, Frankie couldn’t help stop and watch in awe as you began to remove your coverup. Underneath, it revealed the little, strappy, bright yellow bikini you had just bought, deciding that today would be a good choice to show it off for the first time with just you and your husband together. 
“Fuck me…” Frankie whispered under his breath, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down, admiring every sun-kissed inch of your soft skin and the way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your curves. “Is this- fuck, is this new?” he asked softly, his sweet brown eyes just about popping out of his head, trying to use every ounce of self composure to even form a coherent question. 
“Do you like it? I got it a few days ago when I was out. Figured I could use a new one.” You blushed, biting down on your lip at Frankie’s reaction, wondering how in the world he still managed to make you feel as beautiful as he did the first night he’d met you after all your time spent together. 
“Can I show you?” Frankie asked, running his hands along your waist, gently toying with the strings holding your swimsuit bottoms together. 
“Show me what?” 
“Show you how much I like it?” He responded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers slowly began to undo the bow tied around your hips while he gently nipped at your neck, making your stomach swell with arousal. 
“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, carefully backing up until your legs hit the lounge chair behind you, Frankie gently guiding you to sit down and lay back while he nestled himself between your legs, draping each one over his bare, broad shoulders, his tanned and freckled skin glowing in the blazing afternoon sun. 
Frankie wasted no time planting soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, the familiar scratch of his beard and mustache against your skin making you moan in eager anticipation as you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your swimsuit bottoms. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? I’m so lucky.” He whispered between kisses along the meat of your thighs before stopping at your core, letting his fingers brush against the fabric of your swimsuit, sneaking under the material just enough to feel how wet you had already become in the few short moments since you had sat down. 
“Seems like you're pretty wet for not even getting in the pool yet, Hermosa.” Frankie teased, the ghosting of his fingers along your cunt making you whine as you propped your head up to see the devilish smirk between his cheeks. 
Almost painfully slowly, Frankie untied the first, then second bow holding your bottoms together on each hip, watching your swimsuit fall to the ground, revealing your pussy, slick and puffy, worked up from Frankie’s touch. 
“So pretty…” He cooed, letting his fingers drag across your cunt, collecting your arousal and rubbing at your clit, already aching to be touched. 
Frankie was nothing if not a methodical man, memorizing every twitch and hitched breath beneath his touch, learning all the things that absolutely drove you wild.
Knowing that he could be the only one to make you feel this good got him off more than anything else ever could.
He couldn’t help but grin at the way your lips fell to a perfectly parted “O” as he pressed more pressure against your sensitive nub, and how they fell even wider as he pressed two of his fingers into your entrance, gently curling them to bump against the soft, spongy spot inside you that had you clenching around his hand. 
“Oh Frankie… Fuck…” You whimpered, your head falling back as Frankie’s fingers were soon followed by his tongue, licking a long, broad strip across your cunt, ​​putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to make that all too familiar sweet tingling sensation to start build in your stomach. 
Frankie’s tongue danced in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you with just his fingers. That, combined with the meticulous and skilled motions of his tongue had the coil in your belly beginning to tighten further and further. 
Your hand shot down between your parted legs, reaching to grab a fistful of Frankie’s brown, curly locks, thick and sweaty from the heat, tugging just hard enough to force his gaze up towards you, your eyes locking with his rich, brown ones. 
“F-Frankie-” Was all you were able to mutter as he continued with his fingers to press against your g-spot, slick coating his digits with each stroke. He licked one more strip along your pussy before placing soft kisses on your clit and the inside of your thighs, peeking up at you with a boyish grin. 
“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. Wanna taste you all over me.” Frankie moaned, the low rumble of his words making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he dove back between your legs, wrapping his free arm around one of your thighs, firmly holding you in place. 
Curving his fingers ever so slightly and latching his lips around your clit, you knew it was only a matter of moments before Frankie was about to make you fall apart completely. You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter around his fingers, able to utter nothing but a “F-fuck…” as you felt your orgasm rip through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins and soaked Frankie below you. 
Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum for him with everything that you had in you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become. Your pussy was slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the way Frankie had fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 
“Frankie, holy fuck.” You whispered under your breath, still trying to regain your composure as you looked down at a satisfied Frankie, wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand with a smirk. 
“Always taste so sweet, Hermosa. You’re so fucking hot, I swear you’d make me melt faster than the sun.” 
The two of you both couldn’t help but snort at Frankie’s cheesy comment, sitting up as you giggled to grab Frankie’s face and bring him in for a long, deep kiss, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. 
“You are such a cheeseball, Fransisco Morales. I can’t believe that- Frankie! Frankie! Put me down! No, no, no, no, you better not-” But before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Frankie had already picked you up out of your chair, flung you over his shoulder and had you flailing your arms and legs as he carried you towards the edge of the pool, jumping in with you mid-way through your poorly fought protest. 
Your heads bobbed to the surface, still in a fit of laughter as you floated in the refreshing cool of the sparkling pool water, you wrapped your legs around Frankie’s waist, draping your arms over his shoulders while he pulled you closer to his chest. 
“Sorry, mi amor, what were you saying?” Frankie teased, raising a playful eyebrow at you as he grinned with his goofy smile, making you over dramatically roll your eyes at him. 
“One, that you are the biggest goof I’ve ever met and I love you for it,” You snickered, plating a soft kiss on his plush lips, “and two, I think I can practically hear Pope screaming at you for the fact I’m half naked in his pool.” 
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   
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