#or at least like rent/own a condo or something

[katsumox]

"the roomate."

~1k words. jason todd x reader.

there's so much sexual tension here it should be illegal. anyway..

“Fuck you, Jason. Literally fuck you,” you shout, stomping into the shared apartment.

It was the third argument this week. It's been two months since you moved in, and the two of you have been arguing ever since. You found Jason's apparent severe dislike for you confusing, as you'd been nothing if not outright kind to him. At the very least, you've been an amicable and considerate roommate.

Time after time, Jason Todd found ways to get under your skin in the apartment you shared with him, Roy, and Kori. Though you were a new addition to the trio, you meshed extremely well with everyone, except Jason, of course. The two redheads were quick to tell you that Jason didn’t get along with many, but he didn’t mean any harm. Nevertheless, The four of you began renting a condo for the sake of cheap rent when the going got tough.

Something about you seemed to fundamentally irritate Jason. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have a perpetual stick up your ass, unlike him, or maybe it was because he had a natural aversion to anything happy or remotely nice. Perhaps it was the way you found reasons to smile and laugh obscenely hard at jokes his male friends say, but somehow find Jason entirely unfunny. Or perhaps it’s the fact that you don’t immediately shut down Roy’s frequent flirty jokes and offers for dates.

“Oh,” he drawls, eyes widened. “Didn’t think good girls like you cursed,” he mocks, following you into the shared living space.

You roll your eyes, kicking off your heels with a little more malice than you probably should.

“Just because you make it your life’s mission to be the meanest, most inconsiderate son of a bitch on the planet,” you snarl, stalking towards your room, “doesn’t mean I have to deal with it. Be a fucking cunt on your own time.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?”

You whip around, tired of the back and forth. “You heard exactly what the fuck I said.”

The smell of his cologne mixed with gunpowder all but invades your senses as he storms toward you.

“Fuck you,” he sneers, eyes narrowed. His hulking form towers over you, his neck craned down to see all of you as he backs you into a corner. At nearly 6’4, a literal wall of muscle and angst, he towers over you, posturing.

His near-permanent scowl hardens as you refuse to break eye contact, despite something in you begging to. Jason's always been pretty. If not for his attitude, you'd find him incredibly attractive. In fact, you think, mentally frowning, you find him attractive despite his cold demeanor. Maybe even because of it.

The rough timbre of Jason’s voice wakes you from your silent stupor.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs, pressing himself closer to you, lips just barely ghosting your own. He pulls back, realizing the desperation in his voice in tandem with his proximity to you is maddening.

“Tell me to get the fuck out," he says, breathless. "To stop touching you,” his hand now lightly squeezing your jaw, keeping you in place. Keeping you from avoiding confrontation.

His focus flickers between your lips and your eyes, taking labored breaths.

You part your lips, as whatever thought you began to formulate dies as you realize the proximity of Jason’s lips to yours. You take a shallow breath again. You could count every one of his dark, long eyelashes from here, you think. Every one of his sun spots and freckles, and scars.

“Tell me not to. Tell me now,” he rasps, blueish-green eyes half-hidden by low eyelids. Something unspoken passes between the two of you, neither of you saying anything, yet saying everything all at once. You take a breath, hoping your words won't fail you for a second time.

"…Fuck it."

Suddenly you both are on each other, kissing, clawing, and caressing all the same.

A groan rumbles in Jason's chest as you paw at him. You've been enveloped by him in all his entirety; his smell, his taste, his sounds. You press at his chest, a solid wall of muscle, hoping to push him blindly, to where you think the couch is. The man smirks at your initiative, taking the hint.

He taps your ass twice, but you're too distracted by the taste of him on your lips.

"Be good f'me, doll. Lemme lift you,"

You hum, more concerned with the mountain of a man in front of you. He lifts you with ease, sitting you on his lap as he resumes his mission to make you break. Your nails scrape down his chest deliciously, drawing out another low, needy noise from the man. Jason takes note of how freely you let your hands roam, ghosting over places that haven't been touched in a long time.

"Eager, aren't we, sweetheart?"

"Shut up," you say at full volume, caught off guard by the nickname and forgetting where you are.

"Shut me up, then," Jason quips, pulling you up toward his face for another dizzying kiss. His kisses move from the corner of your mouth down your jaw. Featherlight touches follow him down to your collarbone, where he lightly nibbles at you.

You let out a strangled, needy noise, one far too loud and embarrassing for the time and place the two of you find yourselves in.

"Shh, shhh. 'S okay, baby," Jason coos, a devilish smile creeping up on his swollen lips. "Wouldn't want the others to hear you, would we?"

You hum and shake your head, dazed, as the man deftly rubs circles into your hip with his fingers.

"Guess we should take this to a more private place, hm, pretty girl?"

You nod emphatically, chasing his lips as he moves you off of him.

"So," he pauses, catching his breath. His black hair is tousled, his lips pink and swollen, and his pupils blown wide.

"Your room or mine?"

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Two | Where it all started…

Shorter chapter incoming…

Expect some time jumps

Don’t own anything WWE 💪🏼

In no way, shape, or form do I edit. This story is for fun and entertainment purposes.

“Two days. Our flight is at 4 AM. Gives you time to dump the flavor of the week.” The bitterness in his voice hurt. 

“Dom. What we did- I’m sorry. Every second felt amazing, I just couldn’t commit. I was scared.”

“I haven’t been pinning, hermosa. You moved on and so did I. No hard feelings.” He was distant still, cold and vicious.

I knew about the other girls. All of them. He had made it his mission to parade them in front of me. He wanted to make sure I knew he had gotten his dick wet after me.

“No hard feelings? Tell your slut of the month to keep it down this time.” I said walking past him in my bikini as I climbed out of the hot tub. 

I wanted him to see every part of me he could. Dom followed me inside, dry as can be. “It’s not going to work, whatever bullshit you have planned. Parading around in practically nothing and rubbing your boyfriends in my face. It’s not going to make me feel bad.”

��Feel bad? We fucked, Dom. That’s not my fault you can’t get over it.” I shouted back. 

“You’re a fucking bitch for that. You wanna play games? We’ll play. Don’t come crying to me when it finally hurts the same way you hurt me.”

We had taken one leap forward just to hustle back to cruel. 

Dom had no idea there hadn’t been anyone else. No one. He just knew what it looked like and it looked like I was a slut but in reality those moans were faked and nothing went past feeling me up.

I deserved his cruelty tho so I took it like a champ.

Rey had got us a two bedroom condo only this time we didn’t share a bathroom. Dominik was kicking off training and everything WWE the very next day.

The frost melted between us enough for us to eat pizza in our mess of boxes. I wanted to badly to apologize but nothing could take back how I broke him heart.

Eventually we got over it, slowly and started being friends again. I even went to his practice matches and training sessions to support him. Our hormones and not having to share a bathroom truly helped, suddenly we could deal with that tension much easier.

I got meaningless jobs, here and there. Enough to pay for  living, rent if Rey would ever take it from me, which he declined more than once. Every penny I had went to stocking the fridge for Dom who was eating his body weight in food with the training burning extra calories.

We got extremely close again, inseparable most days and boundaries of friendship that made people uncomfortable. It made relationships hard to have and harder to keep. We both went through a period of less serious relationships with minimal risk to our friendship again.

We did have one slip up our twenties after getting drunk. None of it planned and all of it something that didn’t please his fling of the month. 

It was Randy Orton’s birthday, something we never thought we would be invited to but a lot of the roster was so we went. Dom hardly knew anyone and I was just as invisible, only I had boobs that distracted everyone. Least the horny men traveling almost the whole year. No one expected Dom to have anyone with him. He was new, inexperienced, and hadn’t paid any dues in their eyes. It was bullshit. He was the hardest working man I knew who wasn’t letting his dad’s legacy determine anything for him. If I could do anything it was making people believe he was someone before they knew him.

I put in a skin tight dress, a black thong and jean jacket that all fit every curve of my body perfect. Linking arms with Dom I could feel the respect climb the more people saw my hand in his. “Just trust me, okay? You’re gonna leave this party a superstar.”

“Why am I scared right now?” He laughed and smiled but held me closer.

Laughing into his chest I handed the bouncer our invite and breezed by without stopping. That was the night I met Randy, who was married still and raising a toddler. I had no business entertaining his flirting. I had no business letting myself be turned on by the entire night enough to convince Dom to fuck me for the second time.

The head of WWE made his way over to us, extending his hand and introducing himself. “Vince, who are you son?”

I stepped in, “Dominick Mysterio, future of WWE, respectfully.”

Vince laughed placing his hand on my arm and I was prepared to valid every rumor if it meant Dom’s hard work was paying off. “You have balls.”

“Enough to convince you to see what he can do? He’s not his dad, he’s better.”

Dominik’s hands smoothed around my waist, nuzzling his face in my hair, finding my ear. “Mi amore, he’s the owner. Slow down.”

“No one is gonna hand you anything, Dom. You have to want it enough to take it.” 

I smiled, forcing him to talk shop when his hand smoothed down my ass before squeezing. “Remember that later.”

Dom was a flirt, a great talker, dedicated to making it in the same industry his dad did. I was proud of him. 

Talking him up to everyone I let him touch me like I was his at least for the night. When we went back to our condo it was hard to turn it off when he cradled my hips asking me, “Why do you believe in me so much?”

“Because I know you. No more deserves it more.”

The way his mouth covered mine, determined to take me right along with his dreams felt out of my control. I wanted him even tho I shouldn’t have. 

Yanking my dress up to my waits he dipped down to his knee in the middle of the living room. Draping my leg over his shoulder I whimpered in desperation. “Dom. We shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say it. I already know. It’s a mistake. No one finds their soul mate at fourteen. I’ve heard it. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to fuck my tongue.”

That’s all he had to say for me to melt and make that mistake all over again.

[sybaritick]

In response to recent posts I've seen discussing "people on tumblr lying about being working class when they're clearly not/people on tumblr claiming they're regular middle class when they make 200k a year": it's true this is extremely annoying, but i really think this problem exists on EVERY website and also in real life (feel like one can meet working-class-larpers at every US university, but more so the more elite the university is).

People build an identity around an image of their social class, both current and past, and that can be for political reasons (they're a leftist and don't want to be one of the bad rich people) or just because they want to have a bootstraps success narrative around themselves or whatever else. But that identity they build can be completely disconnected from the material reality of their upbringing.

My parents were definitely well-off: my dad was a software developer and my mom also had a tech-adjacent job. Because we lived in a very expensive area, people still made fun of me for class-related reasons as a kid and my parents struggled with financial stuff at times (like having to move out of the house we lived in and switch to renting a smaller condo). However I would still never make the claim I am just some average American, because as a kid my family's income was definitely in the top ~15% in the US.

The thing is though... I think some people either 1) Solely base their perception on the people around them, and if you do that you'll probably think of yourself as average, or 2) have a load-bearing element of their personality that depends on them having been working class background or at the very least have come from an "average" background.

I think the problem here is people building their identities so hard around what their ideology "demands." It's not easy to solve but it's something you have to be honest with yourself about. There is a huge strain of online Tumblr-type-leftism that demands you perform a sort of victimhood/background of oppression or be considered inherently a bad person, and the result is that some people will fake it, but they might not even believe they are faking it, it's part of their self-image.

Don't buy into this idea that victimhood is virtuous.

The first step is do not apologize for any advantage you have and do not feel guilt over any advantage you have: the advantage is good. it lets you do more, gives you power, gives you time or money or connections compared to the average. Everyone has at least some advantages in life, even if they are as simple as "It's an advantage that I was born in at Western country," or "it's an advantage that I'm not blind or deaf." You will never accomplish anything useful, politically or personally, by feeling bad for these things. (You cannot give another person your advantages, or remove your own advantages, by feeling guilty. you CAN use your advantages to help disadvantaged people-- but not through guilt or performative hand-wringing!)

You should feel good and happy about the things many on Tumblr call privileges, because they mean it will be some amount easier for you to get further and climb higher and do more. I love being American. I love being able to do this many pull-ups. I love being male-passing. And I love money. Build from there.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | twenty one

"I rent a place on Cornelia Street", I say casually in the car. We were a fresh page on the desk, filling in the blanks as we go. As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead leading us home

*Ellie's POV* A few days later…

I was finally back up in Vancouver and with Liam, I missed him so much and being with him gave me a sense of stability. Tyler put the house up for sale and it sold on the same day which was incredibly lucky but very normal for Vancouver real estate. Liam and I have just been staying with my dad for the time being, which my dad enjoyed. Danielle even found me a condo and I was getting ready to move into it already. I had to admit this transition period in my life was going a lot easier than I expected. I had such an incredible support system that made it even better.

“I can’t believe this place is mine.” I mused as I walked around my new home. It was right in the heart of Vancouver, bright open layout, lots of windows, a large patio, and even better it had three bedrooms so Liam could have his own space and I could still have a guest room. Danielle looked over at me at smiled, “It’s all yours babe, time for a fresh start.” “Absolutely.” I mused, still not believing I was finally out of that house and didn’t have to walk on eggshells. I could decorate it the way I wanted, adopt a cat if I wanted, put my Christmas tree up early without someone bitching in my ear. Hell I could drink wine and dance around naked if I wanted to. “When does the furniture arrive?” “Tomorrow.” I had taken some of my money from the house selling to get new furniture, cause I wanted nothing from the house in here besides Liams room. Danielle and I were gonna mirror it to his old room to help him with the transition. “It was nice of them to leave this couch.” “This couch is fucking sick.” Danielle agreed, it was a giant cloud couch that almost wrapped around the whole living room. I couldn’t wait to have Noah and the guys up here to hang out and have family dinners or even football Sunday’s with them. I went to check on Liam, but as soon as I did my phone buzzed, it was a text from Noah. “Special delivery at your front door.” I raised my eyebrow and walked towards the door. My footsteps felt heavy the closer I got, I checked the peephole, but he wasn’t on the other side of the door. Filled with confusion I swung the door open and saw a giant bouquet of ivory roses. My heart skipped a beat, they were my favourite. How did he know?

I grabbed my phone and face-timed Noah, he answered and saw me with the flowers,“Congratulations on your new home baby.”

I blushed as I stared at the screen, he was sitting in his home studio as his favourite Naruto hoodie hugged his body. “Thank you these are gorgeous.” “I thought you deserved a house warming gift.” “I’ll never say no to flowers. Are you happy to be home?” I replied as I sat down on the floor in my empty bedroom, completely consumed by Noah’s voice. Funny how a few short years ago I found comfort in his voice on Twitch and now he’s FaceTiming me daily, it was something out of a teenage dream. “I am.” He replied as he scanned his room. “It’s just missing something.” Rolling my eyes, already knowing the answer, “hmm, what could that be?” “You, obviously.” His smile faded and turned into a small pout, “I miss you so much, Ellie.” My heart sunk as it hit me that he really wasn’t here with me, but he was in another country. At least we were in the same timezone but it still wasn’t enough. “I miss you too, Noah.” “I actually have a question for you.” He started. “We upgraded to a bigger venue tomorrow and the remaining tickets sold out quickly so we added a second show the night after. I was wondering, if you’re able, do you want to come down for the second show?” “I’d love to Noah.” A smile appearing on my face, “I want to see what your life is like down there. Only thing is, I’d have to fly down the day of the show. Liam goes back to his dad’s tomorrow after dinner.” He smiles at me through the screen, “Works for me.” “I can’t wait to see you.” I stopped myself, every cell in my body wanted me to tell him I loved him. I wanted to tell him, but over the phone just didn’t seem right. “I can’t wait to see you either.” He was cut off by his doorbell ringing. “What are your plans tonight?” “Inhale this ramen that just arrived and watch more Demon Slayer.” His dark eyes burned a whole into my heart as he looked at me, “Isn’t your boyfriend so exciting?” “Very.” I chuckled. “I can’t wait to see you.” “Once this tour’s over I’m coming up to stay with you with no interruptions okay? I gotta go though, Jesse might steal my food.” He replied, referring to his roommate Jesse Cash, who was also in a band called Erra. Noah started to walk out his room and I could hear him yelling at Jesse to not go to the door. Jesse told him to get fucked and went anyway. “Goodnight babe.” I hung up and I just sat there, feeling tears in my eyes. How can I have so much going for me but I feel deflated? I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to be this attached to him this fast but he made it impossible, especially with how he’s been so devoted to me. This felt like the cruelest way to fall in love, but I knew it was something I would have get used to with his career. “Mama?” I looked up, Liam walked into the room and towards the flowers. I smiled at him as I wiped the tears from my eyes, he caught me and walked over to me. It amazed me that even at his age he felt my sadness and wanted to make me feel better. He crawled onto my lap and hugged me, putting his head on my shoulder. I held him close to me as I felt more tears escaped my eyes. It can only get easier from here…right?

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

based on his track record, i’d say they’re definitely cohabitating or nearly living together by now lol

I don't think they're living together lol. Apart from the fact that it's way too soon, he hasn't lived with anyone since Emma, and the halsey news that they moved in together were fake, just because one time they left her house together. He probably rents a bnb or something lol

i mean, the same was true with emma. he lived with her for the most part, but maintained his own condo that he also lived at.. he just spent most of the time at emma's place 😭 i'm sure it was no different with halsey, and to be fair.. i mean, evan living the way he has is an anomaly for a hollywood celebrity. both emma and halsey had big, luxurious homes and weren't going to go rough it out at evan's depressing bachelor pad condo, so he spent much of his time at their places. fran was a pandemic girlfriend and between the two of them obviously evan's place was optimal, so that's where they spent most of their time . per fran herself she didn't full-time live with evan, but it was basically a second home. she'd go there and do IG lives, bring her bunnies over, all that. now with natalie, i don't believe evan bought a home in NY because i've seen no proof or indication yet.. at least for now. he's likely renting unless he's still staying with jeff, but either way, i wouldn't be surprised to find out they were living together lol

[burritosandpeppermint]

Buying A Home Is Renting Space In My Head Again

This is more of a rant than anything, although if anyone has any advice/suggestions I won't turn them away.

I own a decent chunk of my company's stock. Nothing huge but more money in anything than I've ever had (except when it was soaring about two years ago, damnit) and the stock price is increasing again (whoo!). In my mind it's enough for a very good down payment on a home. Nothing extravagant, likely a $200K-$250K condo, one bd, one br, hopefully at least a small deck, you get the idea. In the past I thought I'd never buy, but I also really, really don't want to work until I'm dead, paying rent to some management company for the rest of my life. That being said, I also don't want to get a 30 year mortgage at 45.

I think I'm just trying to work out how to:

Retire before I die

Not have housing anxiety after I retire

Not have our savings wiped out if something needs repair

There's a part of me that thinks "This is America, so that may not be possible for people like you anymore" and that may be right, I think I'm just looking at the possibilities and dreaming.

[ofgentleresolve]

( reposted from sideblog on january 11th, 2023. )

@mythvoiced sent in: MORE NELL, MORE NELL~ What are ways for her to wind down after a tough day/night? How does she feel about tough life decisions, avoidant or 'better get this over with as fast as possible'? What's her dream home? Ideal date? 👀 Does she prefer working in silence or does she like ambient sounds or maybe some tunes playing in the background? What's a supposed work 'for children' that she'd thoroughly enjoy as an adult? One work of fiction that feels like home? What are her high fives like, soft, loud, two hands, one hand, is she one of those people that holds your hand a little when your palms connect? ALL THE LOVE, FERRE~ || lena back at it with the WONDERFUL QUESTIONS 🥺

She has to look twice at this curious bystander because most of the time, she’s the one who ends up asking the questions, not the other way around. Between her, Alfred, and Myungdae, she has the least to hide…if one does not count the illegal hacking Nell used to do on the side.  But in her defense, it was a side gig,  the rent in London is always going up, and her employer at the time definitely didn’t have any intention of matching her salary with inflation rates. Hand momentarily off the keyboard, she points to herself, mouthing ‘me, right?’

Yes, they are talking to her.

Her hands go back to the keyboard- wireless with tactile switches; perhaps getting one with linear switches would be better since they make less noise and require less force to press down on, but the sound of typing is so ingrained in her ( and the other two for that matter ), it feels wrong to switch to something else. “I’m a simple girl. Give me my Do*ctor Who marathons and a tub of pistachio ice cream and I’ll be there. Not that any other flavor is worse, but you know…we all have our preferences, don’t we? Myungdae’s got his red beans and Alfred, he’s pretty BASIC. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Chocolate, she means. Not that basic is necessarily bad in this case.

She gives a nervous laugh though, glancing over at her screen. Alfred and Myungdae still haven’t arrived yet. “This…this isn’t an interrogation is it? Not that, I’m implying that you are, I mean, why would you need to, I’m just…working on work, filing for the shop, you know-“ Oh wait, she never answered the question, did she? Maybe the way she’s reacting, answers it all too clearly- if she can, she’d rather avoid the hard decisions…even if that ends up biting her in the arse later. She sighs. “Well…avoiding them doesn’t usually solve them, does it? It’s not like he's able to…”

He, as in the Black Knight. Well, the image of the Black Knight- she’s not actually him, himself. That’s Myungdae’s role, but then again, when you’re constantly with people like Myungdae and Alfred, people have been plunged into the deep end with no life vest available and yet they’re still swimming in spite it all, it makes even the worst of problems seem…bearable.  Avoiding her problems almost feels like an insult at that point. Or maybe something about being the Black Knight makes her want to be BRAVER.

 The next question is, thankfully, less probing. “Does it have good wifi? That’s all I really need to be at home. Well, a high end condo wouldn’t be terrible- I’d love to have enough space for both windows and my screens. If it’ll let me have a smartscreen installed, I’d take that to. It’d have to have an elevator though. No stairs, if possible.” That would be for her mother, the woman who raised her all on her own. Isn’t that why Nell went into hacking to begin with- to pay her mother back for all the years put into raising her daughter? At the very least, if god forbid, something happens to her, at least her mother will be comfortable. The back of her neck suddenly grows terribly warm though-not from the sentimentality or worry, but rather from-

“D-Date?” She chuckles nervously. “T-That’s a bold question, wouldn’t you say? Not that, I’m not flattered, but-“ Well, it’s a bit difficult to maintain a relationship let alone go on a date when a. you don’t know the language well and b. most of your free time is being used to be the Black Knight’s tech support. She coughs into her hand- a classic movement picked up from Myungdae. “Take me to dinner and talk to me about D*octor Who or any of my favorite TV shows. And don’t just tell me who your favorite characters are- I want to go into the meta territory.” There’s a reason her favorites have always been the long-running shows…cartoons ( St*even Uni*verse especially- if only the real world worked the way things did in there- by talking things out, no violence necessary! ) are included, even if Alfred tells her they’re for kids. It’s her free time; she’ll be using it the way she pleases, thank you very much!

“Don’t tell Alfred this, but if neither of them is in the base, I’ll put music on- with earphones, of course.” She pats her bag that holds her trusty air pods….thank goodness for wireless headphones and keyboards, she can’t imagine returning to her days of detangling wires! That was a university thing. “What? It gets boring after a while.” Not while they’re in Black Knight mode, of course, but for all the other times, seeing that the basement of the clocktower is one of the few places she can really be herself…if it weren’t for the fact it’s also where she works, she might consider hosting a marathon or two there.

( Little does she realize Myungdae has caught her once or twice jamming out to her music…he doesn’t mind, not at all. As a matter of fact, it can bring a small smile to his face in those moments, where she’s completely caught up with the present moment. )

A work of fiction that feels like home though? “Gotta be D*octor Who for sure. I remember when the reboot first started up- I was a tween- one with not a lot of friends mind you so I was always looking forward to going home to watch the new episode on the telly. And the old ones too. Mum used to yell at me for spending too much time looking at screens.” She laughs, albeit sadly. It’s been THREE YEARS since she’s seen her mother- since that day she had to go into hiding. The last thing she told her mother was that she was going out to get milk.

She wonders if her mother is still waiting for her to come home. With milk. She rubs her hands- last question. “Hm…actually I haven’t given a high-five in a while. It’s not exactly a thing, we- you know.” Most times when there’s a victory within Team Checkmate, it’s acknowledged briefly before they move on to the next topic. “I guess it would depend on who I’m giving it to? Myungdae’s not a huge fan of pain-“ So she’d probably hold his hand in a gesture of victory than high-five. “And Alfred’s on the rougher side.” Which means her palms will inevitably sting.

But speaking of which, she notices them from the other end of the room. Alfred is waving her to join them. Closing her laptop, she gives the curious soul a tight smile. “Sorry, I’d love to chat more but uh…my ride’s here. And they don’t like it when I keep them waiting.” Standing up, she tucks her laptop into her bag along with the keyboard. “Maybe we can meet up again some time? It’s hard making friends you know- well, maybe you have better luck than I do, but that’s not your problem so much as it is mine and it’s probably my fault anyways-“

She takes a deep breath.

“Anyways. I’ll see you around. Try to stay out of this side of Itaewon tonight for me, okay?”

[mr-tony-stark]

As soon as Clint comes through the door, Tony goes into full panic mode. The problem is, he's on the phone, but not in a literal sense. There's no actual phone involved. So he can't grab the phone and turn it off speaker. He's stuck with Clint just hearing everything.

His whole body is tense when Clint takes Brandy off him and he kisses his cheek. He gives him a wave and he hopes that Clint isn't listening. He has everything pinned on the fact that Clint assumes this is business and will do the nice boyfriend thing and take Brandy out of the room without listening in to the business talk.

Because KATE IS TRYING TO GET INTO CLINT'S APARTMENT. And Tony knows first BECAUSE HE PURCHASED THE BUILDING AND DIDN'T TELL CLINT.

Clint's going to be so fucking pissed at him. There was no way he could save this if he hears what's going on. They just decided to be together and day one, Tony's tanked it because he as keeping secrets. He's always tanking relationships because of secrets. Why hadn't he learned his lesson yet?

And for a second there, it looks like Clint is doing the nice boyfriend thing and not listening in, and that Tony might be granted a reprieve so he can bring all this information to him on his own toys.

Then Clint turns back and Tony knows he's completely fucked.

"Clint? Is that you?" Aimee asks.

SHIT. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. SHIT!

Okay. Deal with Kate first. Deal with Clint second. That's all he could do. "Aimee, if you know Kate she should listen to you. Tell her the truth. Clint hasn't been there for months, but that I'm going to call her. Tell her to pick up and I'll sort this all out. I gotta go put out a fire here first. Thanks for letting me know."

"Okay. Sure. Thanks, Mister Stark."

Tony turns his attention to Clint. "Um... so..." he said. Fuck. Clint was going to be so fucking angry with him. He was glad that Brandy was there because he knew that he would at least keep it together for her sake. He got up and approached Clint, holding his hand out. "Don't be mad. Please, don't be mad at me. When I came to get you that day when you were in your basement. You told me you sold your building and I knew that you would regret it. Especially if the new owners did something like put all the rents up or evicted everyone so they could redevelop and put up condos, you'd really hate yourself. I just thought if I bought it then when you had your shit together we could figure out what you wanted to do. I could sell it back to you, or you know - I don't know. I just didn't want you to have one more thing to blame yourself for."

There's a part of him, that imagines them young and doing that because he's pretty sure neither of them had a normal enough start to life to have something like this. Mostly innocent kissing, just for the sake of kissing and absolutely playful. Clint whines at Tony, who refuses him finishing off both of their coffees; but it's alright. HE'LL JUST HAVE TO HAVE TONY'S LIPS INSTEAD.

A part of him know, voice in the back of his head, that today feels like a good day because of him and Tony. That it may cause the day to feel a little inflated in how good it actually was. HONEMOON PHASE. Clint knows that he has to think about that, not worry, but keep in mind for the coming day as he and Tony try to adjust.

He makes Tony breakfast, with teasing that Tony's in for a cooking lesson soon. Clint's knee hasn't been hurting and he feels positive that physical therapy won't leave him sore as hell, that he'll be able to get through it without feeling too sore. THEY TALK OVER BREAKFAST. Flirt, move around each other or more than Clint likes how close Tony got to be nosy about the egg he was cooking in a pan.

Clint walks, not all of the way to Brooklyn (that'd be absurd). No! He walks to a bus stop he had looked up, timed out the bus schedule, and take public transport over to Brooklyn. Let off at a stop not too far from his physical therapy place, during the short walk to PT that's when he does his first of only two calls to Kate today. Just so she knows how interested he is in reconnecting with her.

PHYSICAL GOES WELL. He likes the people there, and they listen to him as he explains how he level of fitness he needs to get back. Make an plan for his exercise, keep the course, and a nutrition plan to keep in mind to help him with weight gain and improving muscle mass.

On the bus ride over the bridge, and the walk back to Tony's brownstone, that is when he leaves a second voicemail for Kate to hear. CLINT LET HIMSELF IN. When he gets in, he doesn't go right for Tony. Grabs himself a snack, as well as a glass of ice to make his canned juice he bought from a corner store into the glass to cool it down.

"It's not that. There's a girl here, banging on Clint's door. She has a bow." ANGRY SHOUT. "Oh wait! IT'S KATE! I hadn't seen her in a few years, it's almost funny I forgot. She's like.. UH. Really angry. Shouting that she hates him, and gonna pin his balls to. How dare he call, gonna kill him... Like really angry, Mr. Stark, kind of making a lot of noise and scaring the new tenants."

Clint lights up seeing Brandy, and goes to take her from Tony while he's on the phone. SINCE HE CAN, HE PRESSES A KISS TO TONY'S CHEEK. Like really angry, Mr. Stark, kind of making a lot of noise and scaring the new tenants. That voice sounds familiar, like really familiar.

WHAT? He hears the last blurb of a voice over the phone as he gets close to Tony for the cheek kiss. He pulls away, gives Brandy a forehead kiss and babbles right to her before he's looking confused at Tony. ❝ Who're you on the phone with? Scaring new tenants, what's that mean? ❞

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

097 of 2024

1. Were you named after anybody? Kind of, after my grandpa.

2. What is your gender? Male.

3. What country were you born in? Belgium.

4. How tall are you? 5'11 = 180cm.

5. Eye color? Grey, but actually more hazel.

6. What year did you or are you going to graduate high school? I graduated in 2009.

7. Energy drink, tea, or coffee? Neither, caffeine triggers my neurological disorder.

8. What is one thing that annoys you? Two-faced people.

9. Do you prefer even or odd numbers? Even.

10. What is your spirtuality/religion? I'm agnostic, always looking for answers.

11. Do you have any pets? One cat. Used to have more in the past.

12. Do you own or rent your own place? Rent, unfortunately.

13. Are you right or left handed? Ambidextrous with some left hand preference. Plot twist: my left hand is disabled.

14. Alt-rock or hip-hop? Hip hop. Or metal, not really rock.

15. Phone games or video games? Phone games.

16. Snapchat or Instagram? Instagram. I have an account dedicated to my photography, but it hasn't been updated in a while.

17. Long or short hair? Long. I have short hair, but I used to have long hair and I'm thinking of growing it back.

18. How many pillows do you have on your bed? Three for me and one for my husband.

19. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I don't. Never did.

20. Flip flops or runners? Neither, really.

21. Do you work out at the gym? I used to, but as a form of getting back to mobility.

22. Pen or pencil? Gel pen please.

23. How old are you? I'm 34.

24. Do you like Harry Potter? Never had much interest in it, and I lost my respect for the author anyway.

25. Netflix or TV? Both. I love British TV.

26. Favorite ED movie? None, I'm not a movie person.

27. Fish or meat? Fish, 100%.

28. Do you sleep in silence or do you need something on? I need the TV or at least the radio. I hate silence.

29. Are you afraid of the dark? Kind of. Not really afraid, but I find it kinda unsettling.

30. Day or night? Day. Particularly mornings.

31. Coloring or drawing? Drawing, but I'm not that talented.

32. What is your favorite past time? Shortwave radio & signal identification, and photography. Also trainspotting.

33. Do you own a smart watch or activity tracker? No, I don't.

34. Do you wish you could be taller? Yes. I think my height is rather average for a man.

35. What is one thing you really want right now? To go on a road trip with my husband. No chance, though :P

36. Do you like dollar stores? I think we have only Action, Zeeman and Wibra, and I only go to Action.

37. Do you prefer online shopping or shopping in stores? Online, especially for clothes. Groceries I like to do in person.

38. Have you ever broken a bone? No, never. My bones are ridiculously strong.

39. Do you make friends easily? Nah, I need time to trust someone and to call them a friend. Quality over quantity, too.

40. Texting or phone calls? Texting, but I hate both.

41. Do you have a tumblr? Yeah, I do. Three blogs in total.

42. Do you prefer e books or actual books? Paperback books. I only buy ebooks if I cannot find a paperback anywhere.

43. Poetry or prose? Prose.

44. Can you sing well? I can sing somewhat, but if it's good or not, I have no idea.

45. Do you like cleaning? Nah. Only some chores are doable for me.

46. Do you have a skin care routine? Currently I only put special antiperspirant cream on my face as a 7 days long therapy.

47. Do you miss being younger? Yeah, I do. I miss being a teenager.

48. Did you/do you do well in school? Yes and no. Best grades from the subjects that are interesting to me, barely passing the subjects I find boring.

49. House or condo? House. Preferably with big garden.

50. Any phobias? Yeah, I'm emetophobic. I also fear the sound of pendulum clocks.

[olymphianblood]

i might get a little personal here but im in a mood to yap so bear with me... heres how dip n pip are holding my mental health together atm.

okay like. this might be silly but one thing that is helping me cope with my life situation atm (got fired from my job, had a crisis, enrolled on another college and i have to move to my parents new house with them thats on a location very far away from the city) is that im relating to dnp in question of designing their new forever home. with the exception that its primarily my parents forever home but they planned it with a room for me. thing is the condo where its located at gives me such negative vibes and it makes me feel trapped (for more personal reasons i dont want to share but keep in mind my parents are very overprotective) and my depression spikes considerably and gets even worse. so i kept rebelling saying im not gonna move away with them but finding jobs was rlly hard and even more so when the pandemic started. when i got a job i got fired months later and i didnt even have enough money for rent in a new place. anyway i had to accept that i have to move with them at the cost of my mental health bc i seriously cant deal living with them anymore and i already disliked the place, but at least they said i can plan my room the way i like. so like whenever im discussing how i want my room to be and when i go in meetings with the architects and builders, im always like "omg, just like dan and phil when they were planning their house... im experiencing an adult thing..." and like its so fun rewatching videos where they share the process of their house planning and construction bc i see it in my daily life now, also the discussions of the phouse and personal decisions they made regarding room placement, decor, etc gets me all !!!! bc i have actual imput as someone observing their own parents building their home that they will share together and i get deeper insights of the human coexistence with each other and little details in living in a home that i never picked up until now... and applying that mindset to them and how they live is comforting feels like im understanding someone and just. its like im at a friends gathering at a weekend catching up in life. so yeah this situation that used to be dreadful is being shaped into a nice piece of thought where i can relate it to something that makes me feel good instead of being a triggering memory for depression.

tldr; dnp just like me fr designing their own space to their tastes and is curing me of my depression

[zeon-twilight]

Relationship Anarchy

On days I don't have a gig lined up, I try to do a few extra chores around the house. Generally speaking I make the least *Consistent* money amongst the renters, and have been given some slack in what I MUST pay into the household. When I have more money, I try to give more, when I lack money, I try to give of my labor. For the entirety of my life, I've lived with other people. When I was a child it was with my parents, and when I struck out on my own, it was with a group of friends in small condo. Part of it is pragmatic, it is easier to pay the rent if there are multiple people paying. Part of it is personal, I generally like hearing people's stories and learning what makes them tick. It's enjoyable to feel like you're helping someone in this path called life.

As a relationship anarchist, I believe that human beings connect with each other in many ways and on many levels, and with good communication, one can access the best and curtail the worst of these connections. The tricky thing is putting in the work when so many things pull at our attention, when so many things pull joy away from our hearts. It can end up feeling like the only ways we are allowed to connect are the ones that society defines comfortably for us. Don't get me wrong, there is something to be said for a mutually comfortable dynamic, a relationship with clear definition and boundaries can be a beautiful thing. Loyalty is often built upon layers of trust in another person's consistency, and when a connection is meeting or exceeding everyone's expectations it's a beautiful sight. We need connections which are stable in our lives, for a foundation.

That said, I contend that we also need uncertain relationships. Be it new connections that do not yet know us, or acceptance of those strange connections we allow to be strange rather than cramming into some comfortable box, that we observe with a sense of wonder, curious as to the next shape it may form. These are often the relationships which teach us the most about who we are, and challenge us to be who we want to be. Help us to find the boxes we actually like perhaps. Still, I recognize that I'm a people pleaser. I often stick my nose into other people's troubles hoping to find some way to help. Sometimes this trait has been overbearing, and caused harm in my relationships. Supporting others is a delicate art which requires near constant attentiveness to do effectively. Given that sometimes I've harmed others unintentionally, From time to time I've wondered if this proclivity for trying to be helpful might be secretly insidious in some way, like some kind of niceness manipulation tactic. Certainly many unscrupulous people have gotten their way through life being outwardly caring and charismatic, while secretly working only on their own agenda. I don't have an easy answer on how to tell the difference between people you can trust and people you can't. Everyone gets burned at some point in their lives, and it's up to each individual as to how they react to that, what they redefine about themselves, what changes in what they are looking for, how much they are willing to forgive, and how much they let it impact how they do things going forward. The one thing I have learned is that you have to at least get right with yourself, make sure you're carrying yourself the way you feel is right. If you can get that sorted out, often enough you'll find yourself amongst people who can appreciate that, whatever that might be. Just don't forget that you're always changing too, appreciate what you have and who you are now, because you might be someone else, somewhere else tomorrow. But it's probably worth appreciating that too. I appreciate your time, Who/What/when/where-Ever you are, ZT

[libramonthlyhoroscope1]

Budgeting for Couples: Tips on Managing Your Finances Together When in a Relationship

The Budget Solution

Money doesn’t have to be a contentious issue. Whether your marital status is “soon-to-be,” “newlywed,” or “been in the trenches awhile,” the key to handling money is having a financial agenda or budget. Budgets can sound complex and difficult, but they don’t have to be. A budget is simply a best guess regarding the amount of income you and your spouse will receive over a set time period along with how you plan to use it.

Budgeting for Couples: Tips on Managing Your Finances Together When in a Relationship

Start by sketching out a basic budget plan together. Then, once you and your spouse have a budget, following your plan is just a matter of checking in with each other on a regular basis. Ideally you will do this using free or inexpensive software to track your ongoing financial success in a way that is easy, accurate, and quick (see more on this in Step 6). Here are the seven steps to follow.

Step 1: Set S.M.A.R.T. Goals

Divide your financial goals into short-, medium-, and long-range categories to make sure you are planning for your present and your future. Your short-term, medium-term, and long-term financial goals will have a huge impact on your overall budget.

Short-term goals typically take one or two years to achieve and include things like creating a three-to-six-month emergency fund, paying off credit card debt, and saving for a special vacation.

Medium-term goals include saving for a down payment on a house, paying cash for a new car, or paying off student loan debt. This can take up to 10 years.

The most important long-term goal anyone can have is saving for retirement and that requires saving and investing for most of your working life, which can be up to 40 years—or even longer

When it comes to setting goals, many people rely on the S.M.A.R.T. acronym. The words have varied, but the ones often used for financial goal-setting are:

Specific—State your goal in a few well-chosen words. “We want to own a condo in the Bahamas.”

Measurable—How will you know you’ve achieved your goal? “How much will it cost?”

Achievable—It must be something you can accomplish financially given your means. “Can we save that much given our current and predicted future income?”

Realistic—Even if achievable, does it make sense in your situation? “What will we have to give up and is that OK?”

Time-based—Your timeline will tell you whether this is a short, medium, or long-term goal. “How long will this take?”

Use S.M.A.R.T. to test and, if necessary, adjust your goals. If buying a condo in the Bahamas is out of reach or takes too long to achieve, how about a timeshare? Or opting for a stateside beach resort instead?

You may have to set some goals aside to be revisited later—say, after you get a big raise or promotion.

Step 2: Determine Your Net Income

Once your financial goals are set, take stock of your monthly income. Gross income is the amount you have before taxes and deductions. That isn’t helpful for creating a budget, although any amount that comes out for retirement, a pension, or Social Security does come into play later so be sure to note it in the money you use to budget. For purposes of creating a budget, use your net monthly income—your take-home pay. This is the amount you receive before spending begins.

If you and your spouse are paid a salary or an hourly wage, your net income is likely stable. If either of you has irregular income through seasonal work, self-employment, or sales commissions, you will need to revisit the income section at least monthly.

Step 3: Add Up Mandatory Expenses

Mandatory expenses consist of costs you must pay every month. Examples include housing, which could be in the form of a mortgage payment or rent, car payments, gasoline, parking, utilities, student or other loan payments, insurance, credit card payments, and food. For some people food becomes “what’s left over after all the bills are paid,” but you and your spouse should have a rough idea of the minimum amount you need to spend on groceries and include it as a mandatory expense. Subtract mandatory expenses from your net income. If your combined monthly net income is $8,000 and your mandatory expenses total $4,000, for example, you have $4,000 to carry forward to Step 4.

Step 4: Calculate What You Need to Save

Refer to Steps 1 and 2 to determine how much you need to save to reach your financial goals (Step 1), as well as how much is covered by tax deductions for a 401(k), IRA, or pension (Step 2). Include all of this in Step 4 before moving on. Subtract the amount you need to save (for retirement and other goals) from the amount left over in Step 3. That is the amount available for the next category—discretionary spending.

Let's say the total amount you need to save each month is $1,600. Subtract that from the $4,000 left over in Step 3, and you have $2,400 for the next step.

Step 5: Divvy Up Discretionary Spending

Discretionary spending is just what it sounds like—spending on things you want but don’t need. You and your spouse will likely have your most interesting “discussions” about discretionary spending, so buckle up. Discretionary spending means paying for the things you do or enjoy together such as eating out, vacations, watching cable/streaming shows, or wearing matching outfits for this year’s ugly Christmas sweater party. It also includes how much you spend individually. This could include individual nights out with friends, sports (i.e., tennis for one of you, golf for the other), or any of several different types of activities that each of you do with others or by yourself. Beyond the basics, it could include clothes, electronics, and how fancy a car you drive.

List all potential discretionary spending and categorize it as “joint” or “individual” spending. Discretionary spending typically is its own mini budget, created monthly based on available discretionary funds. In the example above, you have $2,400 left over for discretionary spending. That will not likely be the case every month, which means you and your spouse will need to negotiate discretionary spending with each other monthly. This will often require sacrifices from both of you. If you both accept an equal amount of pain, conflict can be minimized. And despite the need for negotiation, marriage does tend to have a positive impact on your financial picture.

Step 6: Select Your Budgeting Software

Now comes the fun part. Armed with your basic budget, you’re going to look for budgeting software that meets your needs and that both of you feel comfortable using. While almost any budgeting software program or app will work, some have features that are specifically designed to be used by couples. Three are described here.

You Need A Budget (YNAB)

You Need A Budget (YNAB for short) is designed around the zero-based budgeting principle that requires you to “give every dollar a job.”1 It works best for people who are willing to be involved in their finances and change old habits in order to make the system work.

YNAB runs on Windows and Mac computers and via Alexa. It has both iPhone and Android apps available, making it a true cross-platform system. The software connects to bank and credit card accounts but does not track investments. YNAB budgets can be shared among multiple users and the YNAB site even offers information on how to budget as a couple. Designed for budgeting beginners, the platform features tutorials, videos, and a weekly podcast. YNAB comes with a 34-day free trial, after which it costs $11.99 per month (or $84 for the whole year).2

Honeydue

A budgeting app specifically designed for couples, Honeydue includes a feature that lets you and your partner decide how much you want to share with each other. This allows for the tracking of shared expenses as well as individual spending. The app is available for both iPhone and Android but has no web or computer version so everything must be done on a smartphone.

You and your partner can set monthly limits for each spending category, chat within the app, react to transactions, and ask each other about questionable spending (from a shared account). More than 10,000 U.S. banks support the app, and best of all, Honeydue is free.3

Goodbudget

Goodbudget, formerly known as EEBA, uses the familiar envelope budgeting system that requires you to divide monthly income into virtual “envelopes” for each spending category. When the money in an envelope is gone, that category is closed for the rest of the month. All budgets are synced between devices, and the web version, which can be viewed on any computer, makes this program (like YNAB) cross-platform as well.

The paid version of Goodbudget automatically adds transactions from multiple accounts. With the free version, everything must be entered manually. Graphs and reports of spending help reinforce the easy-to-understand envelope concept and Goodbudget’s Getting Started tutorial makes setup easy.

The free version of Goodbudget allows you to create up to 20 categories or envelopes on two devices with one bank account. The paid version, which runs $7 per month or $60 per year, allows unlimited envelopes and bank accounts on up to five devices and provides email support.

[365daysofj2]

Sweet as a Hot Cocoa Bomb (Factory Boys, 5/?)

Jared wakes up at 4:15pm on Christmas Eve. He stayed up all night after he left Gilligan’s so he doesn’t get totally off his night shift schedule. He’s meeting Jensen at the house he rents in Hummelstown, not far from Jared’s own condo just outside the Hummelstown Borough line. He’s dropping his stuff off there so he can spend Christmas Eve night and Christmas Day with Jensen. Jensen’s taking him to the 7:00pm church service, and then they’re going to have hot cocoa and watch a movie. Where it goes after that…well, Jared has a few ideas that will definitely land him on the naughty list. 

Jared showers and packs up some comfy clothes for Christmas Day: red plaid flannel pants and his ugly sweater, which looks like an elf outfit and has actual bells hanging from the collar. He also packs a regular black t-shirt for underneath. Then he packs the shorts and Penn State t-shirt he sleeps in, as well as the phone charger he keeps on the nightstand. He washed everything overnight, since he had to do something with his time. He gathers together his toothbrush, razor, hairbrush, and deodorant, figuring he can just use whatever toothpaste, body wash, shampoo, and shaving cream is at Jensen’s house. Then he’ll smell like Jensen—and Jensen always smells amazing, so clearly he has good taste. 

Jared eats a frozen burrito bowl for dinner and brushes his teeth. Then he puts all his bathroom stuff in his gym bag. There’s still about half an hour until he has to leave for Jensen’s house. Jensen only lives about 10 minutes away from him. He lives across the street from the Hummelstown library, which is down by the railroad tracks. It’s a little annoying to get to from Jared’s end of town because of the one-way streets around it. But that’s a small town for you. 

Jared doesn’t know why he’s feeling a little anxious. It’s not like he has to impress Jensen’s parents or anything. He’s just spending the night with the man he’s head over heels for. Jared guesses he’s just nervous because he hasn’t been with anyone in a couple years. He dated a fellow plant worker, Genevieve, for a while, but she broke up with him to pursue a security guard that she’s now engaged to. 

Jared has the impression that Jensen hasn’t had much luck in the romance department either. He’s never said anything, but he’s awfully shy, and he hasn’t mentioned any recent relationships. Jared wonders whether his strict religious upbringing, which probably required him to at least act straight, is responsible for that. He did mention that the church ladies were trying to fix him up, but he didn’t say that any of them were successful. So Jensen’s probably at least as nervous as Jared is, maybe more.

Finally, Jared gets to leave for Jensen’s house. When he arrives, the street is nearly parked full already. He ends up parking a couple of houses away. He wonders which car is Jensen’s.

He knocks on the door of Jensen’s house. Jensen answers almost instantly. “Jared! Hey, I’m glad you found me.” He steps aside to let Jared in and closes the door behind him. The living room is small and neat, with two overstuffed gray couches and a black leather recliner facing the adjacent wall, where the TV is. 

Jensen motions to Jared’s bag. “You can put your stuff in the bedroom.” He gestures for Jared to follow him upstairs. There are two bedrooms with a bathroom in between, and Jensen points into the one on the left. Jared sets his bag on the bench at the end of Jensen’s bed. The room is medium size but sparsely furnished, and there’s a blue plaid comforter on the king-sized bed that takes up fully half of the room. 

They go back downstairs, and it’s clear that Jensen’s pretty nervous too. “Do you want a drink or anything?” he asks. 

“Some water would be great, thanks,” says Jared, just to give him something to do.

Jensen pulls a pint glass out of the cupboard. It has a Rubber Soul logo, which is the craft brewery in town. He fills it with ice and water from the dispenser on the fridge and hands it to Jared. “You look really nice, by the way,” he says with a small smile.

Jared’s wearing the best church clothes he could find: a gray v-neck sweater over a black button-down, and gray checked trousers he last wore when he interviewed for his current job. He smiles and sips the water. 

“Thank you. You look really great too.” Jensen’s wearing a dark green patterned shirt that makes his eyes look gorgeous, with neatly pressed black trousers and shiny black boots. 

Jensen’s cheeks color. “Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to come with me. I hope you don’t feel like I pressured you.”

Jared reaches out and squeezes Jensen’s shoulder. “I don’t, at all. I know it’s important to you, and I want to support you.” 

Jensen nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. Jared smiles widely and takes Jensen’s hand in his. “I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not offended, and I don’t feel pressured. I want to share this with you.” Jared takes a deep breath. “You’re not the same as your family. I know your intention is pure. Please stop worrying.”

“You’re right,” Jensen replies softly. “Thank you. I just—I guess it’s just habit.” He glances at the clock. “We should go.”

“After you,” says Jared, letting go of Jensen’s hand. 

Jared follows Jensen to his car, a green Subaru Forester, which is parked halfway between his house and the neighboring one. It doesn’t take long to warm up, and they head toward Hershey.

The church parking lot is full when they get there, so they park in the municipal lot next to it. Jensen leads Jared through the back door of the church and up the stairs to the sanctuary entrance. They hang their coats in the coatroom first, and Jensen is warmly greeted by several parishioners. A couple of kids are darting about, weaving through the small crowd, but no one seems to mind. 

A petite elderly lady walks up to them and says hello to Jensen.

“Hi, Kathie,” Jensen replies warmly. “Jared, this is Kathie. I used to work with her at the museum.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Jared. 

“She sings in the 8 o’clock choir,” Jensen tells Jared. “They did a really nice job at the early service.”

Kathie smiles. “Thank you.” She gestures to the doorway, where ushers are waiting with programs. “We should go in. I think Greg’s about to start the prelude.”

Jared follows Jensen and Kathie to the sanctuary. He accepts a program and a candle from the elderly usher. He and Jensen sit in an empty pew several rows back from the altar. The middle-aged woman at the other end greets Jensen. She’s sitting with her teenage daughter, who appears to have some sort of developmental delay and is wearing pink Christmas pajamas. 

The organist starts playing, and Jared glances through the program. There are prayers written down on both pages, and there are hymns listed with page numbers. Jared can’t sing to save his life, so he hopes Jensen isn’t expecting him to sing along. There are prompts for the audience to stand in a couple places. 

The pastor steps up to the altar and asks everyone to stand. She reads a prayer, and the audience recites the response lines printed in the program. Jared joins in and tries not to feel awkward. 

Immediately afterward, everyone starts singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Jensen gets out the hymnal and tilts it toward Jared so he can see. Jensen’s singing voice is pretty damn good, which just makes Jared feel more out of place than ever. He sings along as quietly as he dares, following the tune  as best he can. After that, there’s another communal prayer. 

The pastor asks them to sit, and then there’s a lot of music and kids’ pageant stuff. Jensen rests a hand on Jared’s knee and gently nudges Jared’s shoulder with his own. Jared looks over to see Jensen smiling encouragingly. “You’re doing fine,” he whispers as a group of young girls in angel costumes recites Scripture.

After the pageant and the sermon, the whole church prays the Lord’s Prayer, the offering is taken, and then the lighters come out to light the candles they each hold. An usher lights the candle of the person sitting on the aisle, and then the parishioners pass the flames to one another.  Jensen lights Jared’s candle with a small smile. There’s another call and response prayer, and then the lights go down. The whole assembly sings “Silent Night,” and it’s rather moving. Jared finally feels at ease, like he actually belongs here. Jensen sings beautifully next to him, and he’s content to just listen to him and feel the love that seems to fill the darkened sanctuary. 

After that, the lights come up and the praise band plays another song. They all stand, and Jensen presses himself into Jared’s side. His fingers lightly brush Jared’s, and Jared grins. Jared intertwines his fingers with Jensen’s for a brief moment. After that, the pastor bids them farewell, and the organist starts the postlude. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” asks Jensen.

“No, it wasn’t.” Jared follows Jensen to the aisle. “It’s just been a really long time since I’ve done any of this.”

“You did great,” replies Jensen with a smile. He takes Jared’s hand as they walk down the aisle to the back of the sanctuary. The pastor is speaking to an elderly couple, but she waves to Jensen as they pass. Jensen waves back and grins. 

They retrieve their coats from the coatroom. Jensen waves to Kathie but doesn’t stop to talk, for which Jared is grateful. It’s clear that everyone really likes Jensen, and he’s happy that Jensen fits in so well here. Jared just doesn’t think he ever will. 

It’s really cold as they walk to their car, and it takes forever for the heat to warm up. “Thank you for being such a good sport,” says Jensen as they head down Chocolate Avenue. “I’m sorry it was so awkward for you.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Jared assures him. “I mean, I went to church as a kid, but I didn’t go to one that was so…interactive. That’s just not my thing.”

“Well, I appreciate you making the best of it.” Jensen grasps Jared’s hand and squeezes it. “I promise I won’t make you sing for the rest of the weekend.”

Jared chuckles. “I guess I should have warned you that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

“God doesn’t mind,” Jensen assures him. “And the rest of us don’t, either.” He smiles. 

When they pull up to Jensen’s house, his parking spot is still open. Jared’s a little surprised. They get out and go into Jensen’s house, which is fully dark. Jensen takes him into the kitchen, where he puts some milk on the stove to warm up. He grabs a Hershey Company tote bag from one of the dining chairs and takes two hot chocolate bombs out of it. “They handed these bags out last week with all this free candy. It’s a pretty decent selection.” He sets a bag of Christmas Rolos and a Reese’s Pieces filled candy cane on the table. “Help yourself.”

Jared’s not really hungry, but he takes a couple of Rolos anyway. Jared knows they were run in September, but he doesn’t mind. Some of the line workers refuse to eat any candy unless they can get it straight off the line, but that’s pretty hard to do. The stuff in the candy store comes from the warehouse, not straight off the line, even though that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. 

Once the milk is heated, Jensen pours them each a mug and drops a chocolate bomb in. The bombs have mini marshmallows in the middle, which bob up to the top. Jensen hands a navy blue mug with writing on it to Jared. He glances at it, but he can’t understand what the words say. Jensen chuckles. “It’s a Shakespearian insult mug,” he explains. “The English honor society sold them as a fundraiser.”

“Were you an English major?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No. One of my roommates was. I majored in occupational therapy and minored in religion.”

“Interesting. Why didn’t you get a job in that?’

“I did,” replies Jensen. “I worked as an in-home OT therapist. But I kinda burned out, and I stopped working full-time. I applied at the museum because it was a nonprofit and I was trying to get my student loans forgiven, but they didn’t give me enough hours. And the church doesn’t either, but at least it pays better.”

Jared notices that Jensen looks uncomfortable, like there’s more to the story that he doesn’t want to talk about. So he decides to change the subject. “So, you said we were going to watch a movie. What have you got in mind?”

Jensen motions for Jared to follow him to the living room. They sit down on one of the couches and Jensen turns on the TV. He pulls up Netflix and turns on The Christmas Chronicles. Jared doesn’t really plan to watch the movie, and he hopes Jensen doesn’t either.

They finish their cocoa by the fifteen-minute mark, and Jensen takes their empty mugs to the kitchen. When he comes back, he runs a hand through his hair a little nervously before he sits down.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Jared assures him. Once Jensen sits down, Jared reaches over and rests a hand on his knee. “I’m happy just to spend time with you.”

Jensen leans back against the couch cushion and takes a deep breath. “I just—I haven’t done this since college. And it wasn’t exactly romantic.”

“Man, Christian colleges are a lot different than I imagined,” says Jared, mostly to break the tension.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I played Rocky in the Rocky Horror shadow cast four years running,” says Jensen with a smirk. “My roommate was Eddie and he dragged me into it. I sort of accidentally stole Riff Raff’s corset.”

Jared frowns. He’s seen RHPS, of course, and he knows that Riff Riff never wears a corset. 

Jensen clocks his confusion and chuckles. “Etown has a 75% female student body. Riff Raff and Frank were girls. And Brad was a girl once too. We were very progressive for a Christian school. But actually, the administration was really supportive. Except for the time they tried to put a transmasc prospie in a girls dorm. But then, it was the early aughts.”

“Yeah, that’s not cool,” Jared agrees. “But I love that you were in a Rocky Horror shadow cast. I went to all the midnight showings in University Park and I knew all the lines, but I was never brave enough to join the shadow cast because I can’t sing for shit.”

“You coulda been a Transylvanian,” says Jensen. “Or don’t you like drag makeup?”

“I act about as well as I sing,” replies Jared. “That’s why I did debate instead of theater.”

“So you were a nerd and I was the lead in West Side Story.” Jensen grins. “I don’t think we’d have been friends in high school.”

“I was a mathlete too,” says Jared. “And Science Olympiad. I don’t think we’d have been in the same social circle.”

“I mean, I was a male cheerleader,” admits Jensen. “But I played baseball, so that helped.”

“See? You were a jock and I was a nerd.” Jared chuckles. “I’m man enough to admit that.”

Jensen laughs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up in the cutest way. “Does it help if I learned to knit so I could help with the LGBT Allies fundraiser? We used to knit scarves and sell them at Homecoming, and the Residence Life admin who taught us to knit would give us stuff to raffle off at Rocky Horror.”

“That’s fucking adorable,” says Jared with a huge grin. He can’t help himself, Jensen looks so relaxed and happy that Jared surges forward and kisses him. Jensen seems taken aback for a split second, but then he relaxes into the kiss. Jared stretches one arm across Jensen’s back and uses his other hand to card Jensen’s hair. The corners of Jensen’s mouth turn up, giving Jared tacit permission to go deeper. He thrusts his tongue deep into Jensen’s mouth, pressing against Jensen’s own, and Jensen hesitates for a second before responding. 

Jared runs his hand down Jensen’s neck to his shoulder and pushes him down onto his back. He swings one leg over Jensen’s and straddles him. He can feel Jensen’s half-hard cock pressing against his thigh. Jared’s almost completely hard already. 

They kiss for another long moment before Jensen pushes him up. “Not here,” he breathes, gesturing at the front window and the open blinds. “Upstairs.”

“Lead the way,” murmurs Jared. 

They go up to Jensen’s bedroom and shed their good clothes. Jensen makes sure to neatly lay Jared’s nice clothes flat on top of the dresser before covering them with his own. Then he pushes the comforter down to the end of the bed, revealing light blue sheets. Jared decides to show off a little. He scoops Jensen up in a bridal carry and lays him out prone on the unmade bed. 

“Holy shit,” gasps Jensen, now flat on his back and fully hard. “I didn’t know you had enough free time to work out.”

“I don’t,” says Jared, smirking. “That’s just from lifting machine parts on the floor.” He nods at Jensen’s nightstand. “You got stuff in there?”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, lube and condoms are in there.” He gives Jared a coy smirk of his own. “I stocked up yesterday on the way home from work.”

“Well, safety first, you know,” purrs Jared. He pulls a condom and the bottle of lube out of the drawer. He’s achingly hard and already leaking. Jensen looks really fucking good naked. He’s slim, but he doesn’t have a six-pack or anything. Jared really doesn’t give a shit. He’s an office worker most of the time—he’s allowed to not be built. It’s kind of adorable, actually. 

Jensen’s face falls. “Jared?”

“I’m sorry, I was staring,” Jared explains. “Sorry, I’ve just been dreaming of this moment, and now…it’s actually happening. You are so fucking gorgeous I can’t even think, baby.”

Jensen’s cheeks color, and he slowly breaks out into a smile that lights up the whole room. Jared is awesome. He rolls the condom over his cock and flips open the top of the bottle of lube. He coats his fingers with it and delicately slides his index finger into Jensen’s hole. “This is all about you.”

Jensen’s breath catches. “Shit, I haven’t done this in…God, like a decade.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” Jared assures him, and gently starts to open Jensen up. When Jensen seems relaxed, Jared adds a second finger and starts to scissor ever so slightly. He slides his other hand up Jensen’s belly to his chest, and circles one finger around his nipple. Teasing it into hardness, he bends down and grazes his teeth over it as he adds the third finger. Jensen moans, deep and throaty, and it goes straight to Jared’s cock. 

“Jesus fuck,” groans Jensen, his voice ragged and guttural. He drops his head back, and Jared takes the opportunity to lick a stripe up from his nipple to the hollow of his throat. He gently sucks the soft skin in between his teeth, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that his hole tightens against Jared’s fingers.

“Relax,” Jared murmurs. “This is all about you.”

“Then fuckin’ do it,,” Jensen urges him. 

Jared slicks up the Latex and does just that. Jensen hisses when Jared enters him, but Jared searches for approval in his eyes. Jensen nods and makes a sincere effort to relax. Jared runs one hand through his damp bangs and rubs his thumb down Jensen’s jaw. “You are so fuckin’ hot, you have no idea.”

Jensen just moans in reply, pressing both hands to Jared’s sweat-slick shoulders. Jared presses his lips to Jensen’s and plunders his mouth, mirroring the way his cock is currently sinking deep into Jensen’s hole. Jensen breaks the kiss a moment later and sucks in his breath sharply as Jared starts to thrust. “Jesus fuck,” he gasps. “You’re a fuckin’ animal.”

“I aim to misbehave,” Jared murmurs, grinning. 

“You are a nerd,” replies Jensen.

“Hey, you recognized it,” Jared points out, thrusting a little bit deeper. Jensen lets out a low, guttural moan and drops his head back. Jared takes the opportunity to kiss the cords standing out from Jensen’s neck.

“I’m so close,” breathes Jensen, and Jared can tell. He hits home once, twice, and on the third time he buries his cock as deep in Jensen’s hole as he dares. Jensen comes with a bitten-off shout and shoots ropes all over Jared’s belly. Jared thrusts a few more times to achieve his own release, and pulls out just as Jensen goes completely limp underneath him. Jared pulls off the condom and ties it off, tossing it into the trash can on the other side of Jensen’s nightstand. Then he gives Jensen a short, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

“Oh my God,” Jensen gasps. “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that?”

“You make it easy,” replies Jared, and he means it completely. He lies down next to Jensen, pressing his side into Jensen’s and throwing one arm over his chest. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You made me feel God,” Jensen replies, still breathing rapidly. He folds himself into Jared and tries to catch his breath. “Holy fuck. That was…I don’t even have words.”

Jared laughs soundlessly. He doesn’t care if it’s too soon, he just wants to fucking say it. “I love you.”

Jensen pushes himself up on one elbow and looks Jared straight in the eye. “I love you too,” he replies, and kisses Jared. 

“Well, look at that,” murmurs Jared. ‘It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning ear to ear. “Sap.”

“I learned from the best.” 

Jensen can’t argue with that. “You’re the best Christmas present I ever got.”

“Likewise,” Jared replies, and drifts off to sleep.

[cor-lapis-candy]

I wanna hit you all with more shady scumbag landlord Diluc, maybe he owns multiple bars across town and has a couple employee lodgings for like uni students or trade college students to live in while they study and work for him.

You're one of those students, working every few days at one of his bars/wine tasting joints, dressed in the black and white uniform most evenings and not once have you seen your top boss or landlord, not even on inspection or maintenance requests. The red head is a mystery to you, hell you only know he is a red head due to a picture in your bar proclaiming who he was, if not for that you would never have known what he looked like.

And yet as of late your neighbours, some rowdy boys or something, had begun moving out, the floor out were on becoming more and more silent, soon it was you and some elderly couple that helped keep the building up to scratch and that was it, so when you heard clamoring noises and banging or renovations being done what could you have thought but someone new moving in.

You were correct but it was less someone new and more your landlord and boss taking over most of the floor, the two apartments beside you had become one sprawling condo, housing none other than Diluc Ragnvindr, the red headed mystery and now your neighbour.

Correction, now your living next door nightmare.

The smallest of noises after 9pm had him knocking, no banging on your door to tell you to keep it down, you set off the fire alarm and he had simply unlocked your door and walked in, turning the device off and scolding you for making him waste his time. But the real hassle began when you fell behind on rent, between your classes and the fewer shifts you had been given you had been like a hundred and sixty under but nonetheless you had fallen behind.

With your boss and landlord next door it was inevitable when you sent the rent you had that he would be there, at your door right after he received a note that it was under, but not twenty minutes after you had sent the transfer he was unlocking your door, waltzing in and sprawling himself across your sofa.

"Any particular reason for the rent being short? Or are we just not cut out for adult life anymore?"

Walking into him being a brute with his blunt demeanor was not at the top of your Thursday evenings plans, the top was in fact the shower and cry but exception must be made and today's seemed to be hearing out your landlord and he wholeheartedly pushed through any formalities and barrels straight into some very interesting and scummy territory.

"You know if the bar isn't good enough my brother has a much better establishment for you, that mouth of yours could make rent in a single night if you acted right..."

You had met his brother or well ex-brother before, he had been drinking at your section of the bar and been very vocal about shit clients and them not paying their dues on commissions, you had thought he was a salesman or broker but now you knew better.

Perhaps you would steer clear of him next time you saw him...

"...or maybe I should make you pay the remainder back in that fashion. He charges about that much for 20mins after all, so are we going to pay our rent in full here and now or are we having a shadow for the next few days? I would so love to watch how the staff of your particular bar actually work."

Now comes the stomach turning choice, debase yourself to pay rent and do... Something to or for your landlord or put all your struggling coworkers under the owners eye until you had paid back why you owed.

Sure your hands might shake and your eyes may be watering as you lower yourself before him, black shirt and white waistcoat wrinkled from your shift, knees heavy as you shuffle closer to him letting him take your limp wrists in his hands before being guided down to his belt, but at least you knew you wouldn't have this debt hanging over your coworkers...

For now, that is, there is always next month's rent to be paid...

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[blindingdutchy]

Hey, how's your day going? I hope good? Look I'm constantly thinking about water and Tom, like how beautiful is he in water, all wet and well... hot!? Could you please write something about Tom x reader in water? Like bathtub, pool, lake whatever? Tbh I need smut, don't judge me it's been a while 😄 Anyways, could he just fuck me nice and gently and then rough and fast just to be again very gentle at the end or afterwards? Hope you'll feel inspired and do something with it. :)

please this made me so happy wtf

summer nights | t.holland

{tom x fem!reader}

word count: 2,861

warnings: you already know… smut

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), fingering, alcohol

“Can we stay here forever?”

Tom’s eyes were sparkling and hazy as he admired you, a wan smile stretching minutely across his face. His teeth practically glowed in the moonlight, and for a brief moment your breath hitched as you gazed at him. He was too beautiful for his own good. “I really wish we could.” he hummed a quiet response.

The night was silent apart from the faint ripple of water that lapped around the two of you, soft billows of steam wafting from the surface and fading away into the air. Tom’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingers slipping and sliding across your bare skin as he struggled to keep hold in his slightly intoxicated state. In his other hand was a corona, the glass bottle dripping slow, cold raindrops of condensation into the warm pool—he brought the bottle to his lips and skulled the rest of it before clinking it onto the concrete behind him.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy your impromptu vacation as much as you were, because things generally always went wrong whenever the two of you tried to be spontaneous, but so far things had gone swimmingly. The condo he’d rented was just as private and secluded as it had advertised, no work emergencies had interrupted the sudden holiday on either of your behalves, and even the weather had been cooperatively perfect. Hot, sunny day after day, followed by warm, clear, moonlit nights—you felt as if you could see every star in the sky from here.

None of them compared to the stars in Tom’s eyes, though. Here, in this impeccably warm and deep pool, it was just the two of you; no friends or family, no work or other obligations, no fans… just two lovers wrapped up in the serenity of total, blissful privacy. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other.

Only on that first day had you ventured to the beach, but the excursion had been short lived to say the least. One look at you in your bikini, your skin positively radiant under the summer sun, and he’d been sweating. Your smile had been absolutely dazzling as you laughed and played around gleefully, splashing in the churning waves that crashed ashore, and he could barely hold himself back from taking you right then and there—innocent bystanders be damned.

Since then you’d spent the majority of your time in bed. Or, alternatively, on the balcony, the plush sofas of the patio, the hard concrete that surrounded the pool, the granite countertops of the kitchen, the shower, and that glorious hot tub. Oh, the hot tub had been your favorite by far—steaming hot water only contested only by steamier kisses across your skin, Tom’s scorching breath and searing words moaning down your ear…

It had turned into a bit of an unspoken mission to have each other in every place that allowed. All that remained was the furniture of the living room, the small dining table, and the pool. The pool which you were submerged in now, your legs wrapped around Tom and his hand gripping your waist tightly, fingers occasionally brushing over the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. As your thoughts drifted further south, your legs tightened around him.

Tom was leaning his head back against the ledge of the pool, his eyes closed and his breathing slow as he relaxed into the warm water. The relaxation didn’t last for long, though, as you leaned forward and trailed a slow line of kisses down his throat. His breathing sharpened, and you whispered, “Tommy, we haven’t tried the pool yet.”

He blinked down at you, his warm brown eyes taking a moment to focus on your face that was just barely illuminated from the pool lights and the soft beams of the moon. “Oh, really?” he murmured, and his irises darkened at the way you sucked at the skin of his neck teasingly slow, “I think we’ll have to change that.”

It didn’t take long for him to take control. He never did like to let you call the shots, and you weren’t opposed to submitting to his whims; he knew how to please you better than anyone ever had before, sometimes even better than you knew how to treat yourself. Each desire that coursed within him was the same ache that throbbed within your pulse points, the same pang that always sparked to life in your core each time he touched you. You longed for him, all of him, always.

Sliding you further around his waist, Tom turned until he’d backed you into the wall of the pool and his steadily growing length was rutting lazily into your center. Your mind was spinning with the dull stimulation, and you hissed as the rough, painted concrete irritated the old scrapes on your back from when the two of you had checked off the concrete patio on your list. That had been a fun time—rough and messy, just how you liked it, but you’d sorely regretted it the moment a hot shower had seared the little abrasions on your skin.

“I love this bikini on you,” Tom whispered, trailing one finger along the damp shell of fabric that covered your breast, “but I think I like it better off.” You barely noticed the deft way the fingers of his other hand were steadily working to untie your top, until the scrap slipped away from your skin and you were exposed fully to the cold air. “Definitely better off.”

Your nipples hardened into stiff peaks instantaneously, the slightly cooler night air chilling you and erupting goosebumps along your flesh. It was nothing compared to the shivers that wracked your body as Tom’s lips finally found one of your pebbled buds, sucking languidly and swirling his tongue around it with a quiet groan. Your hands clung to his back and you threw your head back with a moan, already succumbing to the persistent throbbing between your legs with the first touch. He brought something out of you, a secret insatiable side of you that always wanted more. And now? As he reached a slightly pruned hand up to slick his wet, stretched curls from his face to get a better look at you? You were ravenous.

He looked like a god. His skin was bronzed to perfection, only amplifying the desirous way he glistened under the moon and stars, and you wished this moment could last forever. You wanted to take it all in, commit it all perfectly to memory, and never let it go. The way his arms rippled with strength as he held you tighter, the taught stretch of skin over his abdomen that tightened the more aroused he became, and the plump swell of his lips that deepened with each kiss he placed on your body. All of it was artwork in your eyes.

“Tom,” you breathed, arching your back as he continued to focus all his attention to the deep bruise he was creating with his lips just beneath your breast, “I need you, now.”

His tongue soothed over the mark he’d left, and he admired it briefly before turning his gaze onto your face. “You’re insatiable, darling.” he cooed, and you were done for. Tom’s eyes were all pupil with almost no discernable ring of honey brown left to be seen, and his lips were parted to make way for the sinful swipe of his tongue. He knew exactly what he did to you, the way he turned you into a total fiend for him, and fuck if he wasn’t much the same for you.

You’d always known you’d had a high sex drive, but he took you to another level. No time, no place, nothing at all was off limits for the two of you. Plans got cancelled, events skipped, and hidden corners and locked rooms were abused when it came to your needs. “You make me this way.” you retorted, and he grinned.

Lips met in a flurry, sloppy and wet with muffled groans as your teeth clashed roughly. The rapacious pace of your kisses contrasted with the slow, careful precision of Tom’s hands. One large, smooth palm groped at your ass with a skill that had you trembling, while the other leisurely traced a path down your body to your most desiring destination. Fingers ghosted along the swell of your breast, feathered down the length of your stomach, before tugging at the waistband of your bottoms.

Not wanting to lose his embrace, you blustered, “Just untie them, please.”

String bikinis were a godsend. He made quick pace of the knots you’d tied that morning, hissing curses to himself as he fumbled the strings and struggled slightly to undo them, “Shit, darling, did you double knot them?” With a growl of annoyance, he pulled hard until the thin bands finally snapped apart, “Fucking hell.”

In an instant his fingers were dipping into you, stretching you open with a desperate fervency. It stung a little, a dull ache permeating the pleasure, but that was to be expected. Not only were you sore from the gluttonous appetite the pair of you had had over the past week, but you were in water—it always made things a little more difficult. No matter how wet you were, water always made it feel just a little like rubber on rubber; sticking and straining, pulling a little uncomfortably with the resistance.

His thumb rubbing circles into your clit helped, though. He scissored and curled his fingers within your walls repeatedly, chasing after the little noises that escaped your lips when he moved just right. Before long, with the combination of his friction on your nub and his deep plunge through your entrance, your grip around him was tightening. The coil in your belly was white hot, heating up and just aching to explode.

“Gonna cum?” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to yours as you wrapped your body tighter around his. His fingers were fighting against the tight grip of your cunt, and you nodded with an airy gasp, “Come on, then. Cum on my fingers, (Y/N).”

As your name slipped from his mouth, you cried out. The coil in your belly snapped, your legs spasming at the sudden rush of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut and you clenched around him, moaning at the way he continued to flex his digits through the steady pulse of your walls. His thumb was still circling your bundle, albeit more jerkily, and you were panting as you tried to come down from the high that seemed to never end.

After a few seconds you gripped his wrist, pleading, “S-stop, too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped his assault, his fingers pulling out of you slowly and his mouth sucking at your neck. You could feel his erection digging into you, his hips subconsciously rutting into you, and he asked quietly, “Do you want to keep going?”

Nodding, you wound your fingers into the sopping curls at the base of his skull and cautioned, “Yeah, just be gentle, please.”

Tom hummed under his breath, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind your ear as he rocked his hips into you with more intention. You were dragging your hands over his skin slowly, digging your nails into all the places you knew riled him up the most, and your legs were still trembling slightly when he reached one arm down to fumble with his shorts. The garment floated away as he peeled it fully from his legs with the help of his feet.

Lining himself up, he peered up at you with quirked brows, “Ready?”

You pulled his face down to yours, nodding silently before you kissed him. This time it was tender and slow, your puffy lips molding together delicately in a lazy pace. He poked his tip through your entrance slowly, and you hissed at the initial intrusion. The water made it uncomfortable, making it feel as though he were actually going in dry, but the further he pushed the better it felt.

He rocked into you slowly, his nails digging into the skin of your bum as he restrained himself from taking you in one hard thrust like he always did. Slow and steady wasn’t exactly Tom’s preferred style. You were grateful, though, that he took care to move with caution and gave you time to adjust. His face was buried into your neck, his lips pressing a flurry of barely there kisses to your skin, and you shivered at the rapid puffs of his labored breathing on your body.

Tapping his shoulder to give him the okay to move, you whined at the first draw back. He pulled his hips back slowly, the length of his shaft dragging against your walls gratingly, and you whimpered when he pushed forward again just as deliberately. The normal slip of your arousal wasn’t there like it normally was, but when his tip plunged to that deep point that always made your body spark, you moaned.

Tom took your sounds for what they were and built up a steady pace, languidly fucking into you with choked grunts of restraint. The water was rippling around you, slapping gentle waves over the two of you with each motion, and you arched into him needily. “Tom, faster.” you begged, and he obliged.

His next thrust was harsher, his hips snapping into yours earning a high mewl from you. “Fucking love the sounds you make,” he growled, repeating the motion and groaning against your skin. His thrusts deepened with every push and pull, and before long your back was gritting into the concrete and you were crying out loud sounds mixed with pain and pleasure.

You loved this rough, aggressive side of him. The ache in your gut that always followed served as a loving reminder of the way he made you feel. The arcs of pleasure that radiated through your body each time he bruised into your spot, the slight sting of his nails and teeth biting into your skin, the deep bruises from his lips that lingered for weeks; you loved all of it. Your scraped up back was crying for mercy, though, but you ignored it.

Reaching a hand down, you toyed with your clit messily and relished in the guttural moan that tore up his throat. His eyes were trained on the space between you where he continued to disappear into your core, and watching you touch yourself always pushed him over the edge. “Shit,” he choked, “darling, ‘m not gonna last with you doing that.”

Kissing his shoulder, you whimpered, “I know, I want you to cum, Tommy.”

Your toes were curling as you circled your nub faster in time with his thrusts, and you clenched your eyes shut as you began to suck and bite at his skin. Tom was a moaning mess, his hips faltering slightly as you bit into him particularly hard, but he pushed on like his life depended on it. Your back was searing with pain from the way he rammed you into the pool wall over and over, your eyes rolling back at his brutal pace.

You were close, and as if he could sense it, Tom squeezed your ass and rutted into you harder than ever. “So close,” he whimpered, and you rubbed your clit with more conviction, “I wanna feel you cum f’me.”

With one last drawn out cry, your fingers stilled over your throbbing bundle and you shattered around him. All you could focus on was the sound of his ragged breathing and desperate pleas that barely rose above the crash of the water, your mind going blank in ecstasy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Tom gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, his hips stilling against yours as he pulsed within you.

His length throbbed against your walls, the hot spurts of his cum stinging slightly as you continued to clench around him. Your head lolled against his shoulder as you panted, the heavy rise and fall of your chest matching the heave of his. Tom pulled out of you with a hiss, and you whined into his ear as he shuddered, “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Don’t look down,” he stammered, and you giggled, “I’ve never shrank so fast in my life, and… fuck, where are my shorts?”

You squeezed him tighter as you laughed, your fingers carding sleepily into his slowly air drying curls. “Tommy, you really think I care? Just take me inside, please, let’s go to bed.” You chortled, and he sighed a shaky laugh of his own.

He raked a hand through his hair and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, slowly easing you off of him as you shuddered. The water really was getting cold; a glance around showed that the steam was no longer billowing into the air. The heater must have turned off. When he craned his head to look for his shorts, you risked a peek and sputtered, “Wow, you weren’t kidding—“

“Hey! I told you not to look!”