#reading a lot of bad TikTok smut got me like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

Text

youtube

Spinning the Block Part 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Officer Jessica "Jess" Sims

Warning(s): 18+, Suicide Mentioned, Smut.

Summary: Terry returns to Shelby Springs to find Jess.

Word count: 4.2K

"I keep my head up high

I cross my heart and hope to die

Lovin' me is complicated

Too afraid of a lot of changes

I'm alright and you're a favorite

Dark nights in my prayers"

Kendrik Lamar – "Alright"

The dust had finally settled.

Terry sat in a Shelby Springs coffee shop and mulled over the whirlwind two years he'd lived through. His high-profile case against the Shelby Springs Police Department ended in his favor. The case didn't drag out for years, probably because the video proof of misconduct was irrefutable. The combination of systemic corruption, civil rights violations, departmental liability, and lack of community trust in the leadership helped the jury make a quick decision. Summer and Marston's testimony did significant damage, but it was Jess Sims' presence that rattled him. Whatever ambivalence he felt about her part in knowing what that corrupt police department was doing, Jess's community rallied behind her. They set up online support to encourage people to donate money for her lawyer's defense fund and to help support her financially while temporarily suspended without pay. There were online testimonials from citizens vouching for her character. Even former criminals who had run-ins with the police posted TikTok clips of how Jess checked up on them to make sure they stayed on the straight and narrow after interactions with her as their arresting officer.

"Officer Sims didn't play. She talked to me like one of my aunties and that made me feel real bad, y'know, like I let down somebody in my family for being a fuckup. Sims told me to get my shit together. She even went to my grandmama's house to see if I signed up for night school like I said I would. My grandmama and my mama didn't even know how bad I was doing. I was pissed at first, cuz I felt like she needed to mind her business. Feel me? But yeah…I got my G.E.D. and I'm working a steady gig now. When I seen all that bullshit go down with homeboy and his cousin…I believed them cops did that shit. But I wouldn't yoke her up with them other fuckers. Ain't no good cops really outchea, but she made me think there might be some tryin' to do right by people."

The comments to that particular TikTok blew up and people argued among themselves about Jess's choice to be a cop, knowing that one Black woman among a squad of white boys didn't make her appear capable of fighting systemic racism. She was called everything from a white man's bedwench for knocking niggas around to the best type of law enforcement needed…someone connected to her community who put their needs first by protecting them from the white cops.

None of her community accolades or dedication to the force appeased other cops who painted her as a traitor to the blue line. She withstood online hate and ferocious public scrutiny. That had to be tough on her. Meanwhile, the public framed Terry and his cousin as victims of police brutality. His Aunt Rosa received nearly one million in GoFundMe donations. It covered burial expenses and the cost of a heavy-hitter lawyer to take on their wrongful death suit against the prison that was negligent in protecting Mike. The lawsuit would take some time, but all the media attention shed light on the case. He hoped his aunt would get swift justice.

As for Terry, he received a multi-million dollar settlement.

He cried when the judgment was read to him out loud in court. His lawyer cried with him because it meant that the world knew he was innocent and the cops were indeed callous bastards. No legal analyst expected the police department to appeal. Chief Sandy Burnne acted belligerent on the stand and justified his actions as a way to keep the town afloat because of budget constraints. He clammed up when Terry's lawyer brought up his previous wrongful death suit as the true cause of the department's financial crisis. He would more than likely die in prison with the long stretch he faced in the criminal case against him. The suicide of the corrupt Judge Logston who helped hide the truth nailed it shut in many minds. Why take yourself out if you're innocent?

The departments's insurance would pay it quickly and quietly. The city council of Shelby Springs wanted their town's name and tarnished reputation out of the media.

The judge approved the settlement, and the case was officially closed after eighteen months.

Sitting in the coffee shop stirring sugar into his espresso, the idea of being a wealthy man didn't faze him. Getting the truth out mattered most. It didn't surprise him that others who went through the terror tactics of the cops didn't come forward or even want to join a class action lawsuit. They had to live in that town or near it among family members of the cops that crossed several parishes. The trauma ran deep for some, and they wanted to forget about the money or assets stolen from them. Terry had nothing to lose. No wife or kids. No steady girlfriend. No job. No fear. He was a lone wolf with nothing but time on his hands to go up against a beast of a system.

Still, he couldn't keep Jess Sims taking the stand out of his mind. She wore a simple beige top with a tan blazer and brown slacks. She had puffed out her hair in a halo of fluffy curls, pulled back by a hair clip on one side. The light make-up on her face showed him what a stunner she was out of uniform. When his lawyer made a little joke to help Jess relax, he noticed she had a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. Their eyes met briefly before she was grilled about her role in the case.

Certain things were made clear. Chief Burnne kept Jess in the office for the majority of her work shifts. Misdemeanor cases were in abundance in Shelby Springs, and most people didn't question it because of the war on drugs and whatever made-up war they used to explain away why so many victims were called by their incarcerated loved ones to bring large sums of purposely inflated bail money in cash. Officer Lann and Officer Marston, along with two other officers Burnne used, were the primary culprits who arrested people. Judge Logston notified the police chief when a new bundle of cash was expected to come through in an attempt to bail out a loved one.

Burnne knew Jess was a straight-shooter and good at computers, so he kept her mainly indoors for the past two years as their department struggled with budget cuts. She also cared for her ailing grandfather at home, so her schedule remained fixed to gift her flexibility to run home for emergencies when the day nurse she paid for had issues. Each date that his lawyer brought up pertaining to a civil asset seizure, she could show in her personal daily planner that she worked in the office that day. Her patrol days were usually on Saturdays when her sister-in-law stayed with her grandfather.

Terry watched the dawning realization on Jess's face as she understood how Burnne had manipulated her and kept her away from a lot of actions she would most likely object to. The chief stayed considerate of her home situation only because it was the best way to keep her and a few other goody-two shoes cops in the dark as much as possible.

In the beginning of her testimony, Jess answered confidently and spoke highly of her former boss in terms of how he treated her. Burnne played on her need to clean up the streets and indoctrinated her with the mindset that they were under siege by nefarious cartels and drug dealers. No one could be trusted. Their actual legitimate drug busts cemented in Jess's mind that Burnne knew what was best, and she moved his way. Terry's lawyer baited her into speaking of her moral compass and pushed her to explain why she had held a gun on Terry when he thought she was Serpico.

"Until that point, I had no cause to believe that Chief Burnne acted unlawfully," Jess said.

His lawyer, a white man with the mind of a steel trap, stared at her hard before speaking again.

"Terry Richmond, who had done nothing but de-escalate every situation he faced with your fellow officers…you included…he hands you SD cards and asks you to broadcast them for the world to see after he thinks he'll be arrested or killed by your department… and that doesn't give you pause Miss Sims that maybe something is rotten in Denmark…or even a little fishy?"

Jess glanced at him, and he tried to give her an encouraging look to tell her truth. Her eyes watered.

"I wasn't sure what to believe. Things were happening so fast and I didn't want him to hurt the Chief or me."

"Miss Sims, you told us earlier that Mr. Richmond remained calm at all times, always explaining what he was going to do, and even conveyed to you that he wanted to avoid gunfire and violence. Why didn't you at least stop to look at the footage?"

Jess held her head high and kept her tears from falling.

"I wanted to trust Chief Burnne—"

"But you just stated that you weren't sure what to believe."

"That's because I didn't want to make a mistake and get my fellow officers or Mr. Richmond killed because of doubt. I kept thinking things could be sorted out later, as long as no one got hurt."

"That's the thinking of a good cop. We know you're good, Miss Sims, because we saw video of you stopping Officer McGill from shooting Mr. Richmond in cold blood. Mr. Richmond also testified that he thanked you for protecting him from men who wanted to… and I quote, "string me up". You also stopped Chief Sandy Burnne from obstructing justice by pushing him off the road and arresting him. The problem I'm having, though, is why you waited so long to stop Burnne once he shot Officer Marston…"

Jess's voice sounded unsure later in her testimony. It appeared that she questioned her own actions as she recalled them. She gave the impression that she was willing to support bad actors and questionable conduct as long as the end result she wanted came about. To Terry, she sounded no different from the Black soldiers he worked with in the marines who were gungho about fighting bad guys overseas, even if a few innocent civilians in other countries got crushed. Collateral damage.

Terry sipped his drink and contemplated the busy street outside. Such a sleepy-looking town. The type of place people put on postcards. A white woman strolled past, walking a small black and white dog with a young girl. She double-backed a few seconds later with her mouth held open. He grinned and gulped down the last of his espresso before leaving the coffee shop and joining the woman outside.

"Terry Richmond…I swear as I live and breathe!"

Summer McBride hugged Terry, and he lifted her up, returning the affection.

"You look amazing," she gushed.

"You look good too."

"Oh, please," she said.

She ran a hand over her thin blond hair that was about two inches longer than the last time he saw her.

"This is my daughter Annie…Annie this is Mr. Richmond, the man who saved me."

Summer's daughter had her mother's lanky blonde hair and a thin build. She looked to be about nine years old.

"Hi Annie," he said.

Annie acted shy and stayed close to her mother as she held the leash of the passive dog.

"Hi," Annie said.

"When did you get here…and why did you come back?" Summer said.

"Got here last night, and I came to check on some people in person. You and your daughter…and someone else."

"Marston?"

"No…Jess Sims."

Summer stared at him for a long time.

"Why Jess?"

Terry crouched down to play with Summer's dog. The puppy willingly went to him, and he glanced across the street, keeping an eye out for Jess. A Black café owner on the corner informed him earlier, after he ate an early breakfast, that Jess and her friends often had brunch there every Wednesday at one. He hung around the coffee shop to do some reconnaissance, looking for her. He tried contacting her through his lawyer, but she changed her phone number. His plan was to see her…try to talk to her. He had a burning desire to sort his feelings about everything with her. After the court case, he was compelled to let her know that he was never going to hold hard feelings against her. The vitriol she received from the outside world was enough. He needed her to know that he wanted her to keep living without guilt. All the others could go to hell, especially Marston, who started the whole ball running by ramming his cruiser into him.

But Jess?

He wanted her to have grace. The look of regret and shame on her face at Mike's repast made it possible for him to forgive her part in the whole affair. It was brave for her to show up at his aunt's house, knowing she'd be the target of scorn and the rage of a family who shouldn't be mourning Mike.

When he glimpsed her face back in Greenwood, he couldn't believe it. He almost didn't recognize her. She'd stayed on his mind for days. His cousin flipped the fuck out on her, and Terry chased Jess down the street. She looked so vulnerable and broken. Scared. He wanted to hug her, even though his cousin had every right to curse her out. That was her baby brother shanked to death. Her only brother.

He looked up at Summer. Why Jess?

"I need closure with her. She saved me two times…three, actually. Saved you."

"She was only saving her ass."

"Like your friend, Marston?"

Summer looked away. Her body language and tone told him more than she realized. She and Jess had history of some kind.

"You know her?"

"Yeah. We were friends at one time."

"What happened?"

"That's personal."

"I have a lot of time available to listen."

"Over dinner?"

He grinned. Summer gave him a coy smile. He sensed some flirtation, but he wouldn't feed it. She was strictly for the friend zone.

"Pick the restaurant. My treat," he said.

"No, my treat at my place. It might be better if we aren't seen eating out together since…you know…the case has been settled. I make a mean casserole and I can fill you in on my case against Officer Lann."

"When?"

"Let's do tomorrow night. Annie goes back to her dad's and we can have some privacy. My number is the same."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan."

Terry noticed a Dodge Durango pull into a parking spot across the street. Seven Black women piled out and Jess was the last to exit from the driver's side. He inhaled through his mouth quickly, seeing her with her people. She smiled and checked her cell phone, pulling out a pair of glasses. Her black and silver off-the-shoulder halter top accentuated all that she had up front and her short jean skirt gave him an eyeful of big legs and thick thighs. The heels of her black open-toe half boots helped stream-line her profile. She was all huggable curves and wide hips. Big hoop earrings dangled to her shoulders and her laughter drifted across the street, making music in his ears. Goddamn. Nothing made Terry weaker than a short, big-breasted woman who wore glasses.

"Well, there she is," Summer grumbled.

Her voice sounded irritated. She took the leash from Annie.

"See you tomorrow night," Summer said.

Jess glanced their way and froze.

"Good luck," Summer said, walking off with her daughter and dog.

Terry looked over at Jess again. Her party of women entered the café laughing and talking loud, but she stood near her car with a concerned expression. He smoothed his blue sweater down to make sure he was presentable and crossed the street after a car rolled past.

"I've been trying to contact you. You changed your number," he said.

Terry tried to sound upbeat to help ease her apprehension.

"Changed it a year ago," she said in a crisp and cautious tone.

Jess's central Louisiana accent had him feeling bashful in front of her. Things were so different when she wasn't in uniform. This was a bona fide southern baddie in front of him. He didn't want to lose all his cool in front of her, however, it would've been so easy to take one step and place a hand on her car's roof, hem her up against the driver's door and talk that talk to her like he was trying to pull her in his orbit. She had to be feeling him because her eyes dropped to his chest, admiring the wide expanse of it.

"I see you're about to have a meal with your people, so I won't take up too much of your time…I just needed to see you, Jess. Can we meet up for another time to talk openly?"

"I don't know why you'd want to. Last time you saw me, I caused a scene at your cousin's house."

"That was a tough day, and my entire family stayed on edge. I'm sorry about your passenger window. Can I take you out to eat later in the week? Friday maybe? Or we could take a long drive into the country, get away for a chance to connect…talk?"

"I have a church function on Friday."

"Saturday."

"Busy. Terry, I don't feel comfortable—"

"Okay, okay. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for keeping me alive."

Jess chewed her lip, and her left leg shook. She averted his direct gaze, and he so wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be fine. But he didn't know that for sure, at least not for her. He dug for his wallet in his back pocket and pulled out a card from the motel he stayed at.

"I'm in room 5B. Please call if you change your mind. I'm going to stay here for a few more days. If I don't hear from you, I'm going to leave town."

"You should leave now. There's nothing for you here except a horrible memory."

Jess started wiping at her eyes as tiny teardrops fell down her plump cheeks. He moved in close and hugged her, letting her nervous trembles get absorbed by his warm strength.

"I'm not here to upset you or make you feel bad, Jess…I care about what's going on in your life. We both went through something traumatic that changed us. I know you're having a hard time here."

She wept onto the top of his chest. He rubbed her back to soothe her. The way she rested against his solid frame felt right.

"Jess? Everything okay?"

One of her girlfriends stepped out from the café, looking for her. Terry didn't want to stop holding Jess. All that softness molded against his hard muscles reminded him of how long he'd been without the regular comforts of a woman. He'd had a few hook-ups throughout the trial, but none of the women he spent intimate time with felt like the woman in his arms. Her lushness and the way she clung to him aroused a yearning to be alone with her. But only when she was ready.

He stepped away from her and stroked her shoulders.

"I won't pressure you. If you don't call me, I'll understand why and won't bother you again."

She nodded and walked away from him quickly. Her friend, another heavyset woman with long straight hair, threw an arm around Jess's shoulder and escorted her inside the café.

That didn't go so well.

Terry took a long walk around the town square to clear his head. He didn't want to make her cry, although he knew in his heart that speaking with her could turn emotional. Now that he'd approached her, he wasn't so sure if talking with her would do either of them any good. He was already feeling the heaviness in his chest from listening to her sob. Did she think he just wanted to punish her with his words? Give her a verbal tongue lashing to rid himself of the burden of Mike's death? Lay it at her feet so she would suffer for as long as his family did?

Truthfully, he didn't know what to do. He'd been languishing in a holding pattern for two years since Mike's murder. The lump sum of his multi-million dollar payout gave him financial freedom to go anywhere. All he did was buy a brand new silver-blue Dodge Ram truck with a pop-up camper and drove straight to Shelby Springs to find Jess. The previous night, he slept out in the woods inside his pop-up to test it out. Roomy, comfortable, and perfect for his needs as an outdoorsman, Terry later sought a motel and bided his time, waiting for her to show up by lingering inside the coffee shop.

Now he found himself lost again.

He returned to the coffee shop after an hour and ordered a turkey club sandwich with tomato basil soup. Jess emerged from the café with her friends, looking subdued. He sat back in the cut and watched her drive away, thinking about her softness.

Returning to the motel, he tried to turn in early after watching a few movies. He tossed and turned all night, dreaming about Jess. Before dawn broke, he woke up with a throbbing erection. He twisted his legs around the cheap, thin motel sheets. Their friction against his dick might have influenced the vivid dream he snapped awake from. There was nothing inherently erotic about it at first, just a replaying of hugging Jess and rocking her in his arms. But then she dropped to her knees, right there next to her car, and unfastened his pants, fishing out the thick dick that her cute hands couldn't get to fast enough. The rich brown heaviness pulsed in her hand. He was a big man everywhere, and his erection was not meant for those who couldn't handle a big penis. Terry was so ready to nut all in her pretty mouth. Jess teased the fat mushroom cap and thick frenulum ridge with a nasty pink tongue that knew how to please him. He reached down to palm one of her breasts and her top just fell down to her waist, like the magic of dreams often did. Her big titties made him groan, especially the large reddish-brown areolas with stiff nipples ready to be pinched and played with.

Jesus! He was ready to bust.

She started shaking them fat titties, letting them smack against each other, letting him hear how loud they'd sound smacking above his face if he fucked her good and hard.

"Baby, you can put your mouth on that dick. Lemme see how far I can get it down your throat before you choke…"

His deep voice sounded demanding and direct. She lifted those big melons and jiggled them for him, her lips pulled back into a smile showing him that one dimple in her cheek.

That's when he woke up, sweating and cursing, because that shit wasn't really happening.

Terry untangled his legs from the sheets and fisted his dick, pumping his hand up and down from the root to the ridge, squeezing the heft. His pre-cum spilled out in a deluge and he groaned Jess's name. He envisioned her voluptuous breasts, wishing they were in his hands, and came so forcefully that his balls pulsed in a rhythm with the thick white streams he shot across the bed.

"Fuck…fuck…oh…fuck!"

He kept working his hand up and down, pretending she rode his dick, clapping the cheeks of her fat ass on his muscular thighs. A final release of cum signaled the end phase of his intense climax. No orgasm ever felt like that before, just from a dream.

Terry moaned and gasped for air. The room looked blurry because his eyes watered from the pleasure, sweating fluid like the rest of his skin and his content dick.

He squeezed his eyes shut and knew something for certain while being in Shelby Springs: either he'd end up fucking Jess Sims, or he'd make her cry again. Maybe even both… at the same damn time.

Part 3 soon come...

Masterlist.

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

@theglamclosetsl

@liquorlaughslove

@teeresaresa

@cocoagadgetsworld

@mogul93

@helloncrocs

@dremmmm

@simplyzeeka

@pearlkitten33

@jas241

@leahnicole1219

@kaykay772

@juniperlovesstuff

@kingclementyne

@thickmadame

@onherereading

@daneiawrites

@hotgrlcece

@darqchilddaydreamz

@ariiijestertheklown

@blackerthings

@soufcakmistress

#terry richmond #rebel ridge #Spinning the Block #terry richmond fanfiction #rebel ridge fanfiction #Terry Richmond x Black Reader #aaron pierre #Terry Richmond x Black Plus-Sized Heroine #Terry Richmond x Jess Sims #Terry Richmond x Officer Jess Sims #Terry Richmond Smut #uzumaki rebellion #Youtube

106 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 2 years ago

Text

Knocked | ksj | (m)

☾ Pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. reader

☾ Summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

☾ Word Count: 10,673

☾ Genre: Roommates to lovers, smut, humor

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they’re both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!

☾ Published: January 19, 2023

☾ A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN’T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Room for Rent Collab

A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last.

Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.

The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments.

It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit.

Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest.

Your neighbors must hate you.

Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful.

Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect.

Except for the constant gaming.

“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?”

“Check the microwave, nerd.”

He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate.”

“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”

“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”

Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?”

“Mmmm never.”

“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”

“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”

“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game.

Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it.

He did really want to play at least once, with you though.

“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”

As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway.

“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.

Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer.

It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even.

Things are good.

Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined.

If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d-

Mark: Come by my office, please.

Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.

At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”

It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”

The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom.

Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable.

The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse.

With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”

“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”

“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.”

“Makes sense.”

“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?”

“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”

“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”

“Yes.”

And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think.

“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”

You give him one slow blink. Then another.

“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.”

“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.”

Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for.

Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud.

“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.”

Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit.

“Fucking perfect.”

Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual.

A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel.

“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”

“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”

“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”

“Well, I was in the shower!”

“Obviously!”

For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”

“I will! Jeez!”

You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new.

As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute.

With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you.

It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen.

Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.

“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“A great voice to go with a great face right?”

“Ew, here we go.”

He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”

“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”

He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”

Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”

“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.”

“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”

“No, I get plenty of that.”

“So why do you need a roommate?”

Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.

It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”

Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”

“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”

“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.

You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming.

Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe.

“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”

Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.

Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.”

“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”

Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now.

Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream.

Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.

In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat.

A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt.

Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”

Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning.

You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face.

Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you.

With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.

The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed.

By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices.

A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around.

Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.

Because of all the fucking meetings.

The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors.

Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets.

Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes.

The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”

“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”

“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”

“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.”

With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.

“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”

You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”

“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”

He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”

“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”

He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”

Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“W-what?”

“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.

“I am not.”

“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.”

“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face.

Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.

Except recently.

The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch.

And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.

You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more.

But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place.

The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner.

Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening.

When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls.

Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.

Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up.

So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout.

Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.

Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.

“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“

The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup.

“Holy shit, woman! What?”

You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline?

Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”

“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”

“Then stop screaming!”

“You’re the one screaming!”

“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”

Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”

“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.”

“I mean. Yeah, but-”

“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.”

“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”

“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!”

“Make me!”

“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?”

This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?”

Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.”

“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”

“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.”

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”

“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.”

Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”

He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.”

Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room.

There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game.

It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement.

Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match.

Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”

“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”

“Really? Newbie.”

“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.”

He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”

“A bit.”

“They play Apex that much too?”

“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?”

“Loba.”

“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.”

The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?”

“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Whatever. Ready up.”

Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing.

Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.

As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.

Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily.

“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”

“Energy. Preferably the volt.”

“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.”

“You snipe with Wraith?”

“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?”

He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair.

“Two zero.”

“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.

Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player.

“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”

You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.”

He snorts. “Sure.”

For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.

“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.”

“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”

“Hey, that was my kill!”

“You only knocked him!”

“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”

“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”

“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”

“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”

“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”

“I know what you meant.”

You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear.

Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left.

I know what you meant.

The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.

And you have no inclination of what he meant.

Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate.

Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring.

“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.”

“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”

“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?”

“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.”

Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again.

“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”

You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.”

“If they see you?”

“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”

And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot.

“They’re both cracked.”

“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.”

His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”

“Fuck that I want to win!”

“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”

It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”

“Stop missing!”

“Knocked motherfucker!”

“Got it!”

Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go.

The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours.

A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.”

Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.

“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”

“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”

“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”

You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good.

But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”

He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.”

Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?”

“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.”

A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.”

Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.

Crush crush crush crush.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”

Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession.

He confused. That he has a crush.

For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.

Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-

It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended.

So maybe -

You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”

“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes, I think I… included that?”

You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”

He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”

“Kiss me.”

“What now?”

“Kiss me!”

There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet.

Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb.

The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises.

“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.”

You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over.

The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart.

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again.

Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.

“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.”

“Do you want some help with that?”

His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.

Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock.

“No underwear?”

“They’re - nggg - restricting.”

His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension.

“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”

“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”

It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes.

And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip swollen and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs.

Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle.

At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the dark, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs.

Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth.

Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go.

��Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.”

You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently.

Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.

Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum.

Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses.

Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward.

Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it.

Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple.

“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”

He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated.

You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.”

“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”

“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.”

“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.”

He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.”

“Because you said please.”

With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.”

Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt.

It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again.

“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”

His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach.

It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy.

And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.”

With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark.

“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once.

Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”

“Cause your cock is fucking big!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No, but please fuck me.”

You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes.

Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open.

It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans.

You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach.

“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.” He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips. The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.

You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.

When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps.

“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.”

He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it.

“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”

You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”

“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”

“Did you have an emo phase?”

“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”

You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.”

“That I can agree with.”

#seokjin smut #jin smut #jin bts smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin x reader #roommate jin #bts fanfic #jin x you #minors dni #minors do not interact

2K notes · View notes

uselesssomebody · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw your post asking abt Miguel fanfics, and id love to read a fanfic abt spider-man 2099! Could you write a fanfic (can be as much fluff, angst, or smut as you want) where F!reader is SpiderWoman, and goes to catch an anomaly with Miguel; her partner that’s slowly becoming fond of reader, yet doesn’t want to admit it. During their mission, reader gets hurt and Miguel confesses while treating her wounds, thinking she’s unconscious and he’s scared to lose her- even to see her hurt. If not that’s totally fine Ill read anything you publish!

𝕞𝕚 𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕝𝕠 - miguel o'hara x spider!reader

complete masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

words || 𝟛.𝟜𝕜

summary || in which miguel makes a confession when he thinks reader can't hear him

a/n || grumpy x sunshine trope but plot twist, he's a total simp (reader is too tbf)

➵ thanks for the request anon! very cute love this trope a lot, and hope you enjoy. also your last sentence is literally such a massive compliment for me you're so sweet i love you <3

➵ my tiktok is disrespectfully feral (like him) about this man what the fuck

➵ a bit of spanish in this one, all thanks to a lovely user on here! for non-spanish speakers, translations are below the warnings.

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smidge of angst

translations

➵ mierda - shit

➵ mi cielo, por favor no puedo perderte - my darling, please, i can't lose you

➵ también eres mi cielo - you're also my darling

miguel o'hara was a man of few words.

miles could attest to it, alongside gwen, pav, hobie, and peter b.

the lot of them liked - nay, loved - to talk, so his stark silence always seemed out of place, and his long pauses in between words owed to a lot of shifty stares between the group, or awkward silences. thus, the only person who really got along with him was mayday, who could happily spend every moment of her day babbling nonsensically at him as he desperately tried to keep her from crawling all over him.

that was one of the few things he was very bad at.

so, it was a complete shock to gwen when she could hear animated talking from miguel's... uh - lair? platform? she wasn't sure what exactly it was yet. in her intrigue, she grabs miles - the poor guy trying to grab a bagel from the cafeteria - and tells him to follow her. his brows also furrow at the noises, and they decide to wait a moment before alerting miguel to their presence.

"that's ridiculous!" his voice is loud, incredulous, and it causes the other person - a decidedly feminine voice - to ring out in a laugh.

"you're so unimaginative. think big, o'hara! sure, it's complicated, but it's the perfect plan." her tone makes it obvious there's a smile on her face, but what surprises them in that miguel sounds like he also has one on his face. gwen looks shocked. she didn't know he could smile.

they both suddenly feel a palm on their shoulders, and they yelp in surprise. pav's excitable voice greets them, asking what they were doing. miles desperately tries to get him to lower his voice, but it's too late, as the door is already sliding open.

miguel looks at the three of them, a little unimpressed, and she waves at the lot of them from behind him. the platform begins lowering at a snail's pace, and miguel waits stoically for it to reach ground level. impatient, and having already been subject to the move several times, she rolls her eyes, shooting a web out from her wrist to reach the tall ceiling and gracefully lowering down to them. miles found it very poppins-esque.

"hey guys!" she mumbles cheerfully. though pav's face is covered by his mask, she smiles at his obvious beam behind it, ruffling his hair as she comes to stand next to them, looking up to see miguel still being lowered down, "any day now," she jokes to the three teens, and miles snorts at the sarcastic comment.

"can i... help you?" miguel raises an eyebrow as his platform finally reaches ground level. he eyes the younger spiders inquisitively. miles and pav look between each other, not really sure now why they were here, and gwen speaks up.

"it's earth-587 - they had an alchemax breach, and the home spider needs help stopping the burglar." she speaks quickly, having been tasked by jessica to alert miguel of the news. she'd been steadfast in the communication, of course, until she'd been distracted by the sounds of laughter - she still couldn't believe it - that she heard.

miguel looks at her sternly.

"we're not mall cops, a burglary is hardly an issue." he drawls, still unimpressed. she stands up a bit straighter.

"the villain is some rich megalomaniac who wants to hop dimensions in order to accumulate more wealth." she deadpans, and miguel looks at her, slightly more interested.

"alright, yeah. drew told you to tell me? let her know i'll handle it." gwen nods, before turning to leave with miles and pav. as they do, so too does the woman he was talking to, waving animatedly.

"that sounds fun, o'hara. bye!" before she can take more than a few steps alongside the teens, they all hear the spongy sound of a web being shot out, and she stops in her tracks, before being dragged back. miles yelps in shock, not realizing what was happening, before coughing to give off an impression of nonchalance, making gwen chuckle behind her hand. pav laughs at the woman's decidedly deadpan expression as miguel pulls her back towards him with the web.

"not so fast. who do you think i'm sending out to catch him?" he mutters, as the teens finally step out. she rolls her eyes.

"i feel like i do all your work for you." she mumbles sarcastically. he releases her, turning around and not acknowledging the comment.

"sure you do." he responds, matching her tone with ease.

as the teens step out, pav is grinning behind his mask. miles looks at him quizzically, and gwen begins walking forward, already knowing what he's gonna say.

"so, how long are we saying?" he asks animatedly, "one month? two months?"

"what?" miles asks, honestly befuddled.

"he's guessing how long o'hara and that girl have been together," gwen answers, already knowing a lot about pav's tendency to see romance where she wouldn't or couldn't. what surprised her, though, was miles' immediately agreement.

"thank god i wasn't the only one!" he exclaims, immediately beginning to chatter away with pav in solidarity.

"alright, boss," she salutes, stepping onto his platform, "what's the plan?" for a moment, miguel doesn't respond, simply looking at her, before she snaps her fingers in front of his face, "hey! you fall asleep, o'hara?" miguel shakes his head, sighing in exasperation, as she laughs to herself. though he shows his annoyance while looking at her, as he turns to pull up the fact file of that universe, a small smile graces his lips, appreciating the sound of her laugh and the way it looks on her face.

she leans over his shoulder - or, she tries to, before seceding to his tall frame and instead peeking past his arm - as she raps her fingers in an anticipating manner over his bicep. usually, he didn't love people touching him - having to deal with an overly ecstatic peter b. on occasion - but he didn't mind anything about her, in all honesty.

realizing this, he sighs harshly, hoping she doesn't comment on it, as he scolds himself for getting distracted. he had one of, if not the most important jobs in the multiverse, and he couldn't allow himself to feel so vulnerable around - a coworker, essentially. but, goddamn, did she make him smile. she was the only one who did, he was sure. he tries to ignore it, though it becomes increasingly difficult as her pretty side profile moves past him, reading the file intently. pretty? fuck. he was gone.

she looks over at him expectantly, and he blinks, hoping his staring wasn't too noticeable, "so... he's created a gizmo." she knew it poked him when she called it that, as he now found the name a little cringy. she disagreed. she thought it was cute.

she thought he was cute.

well, maybe cute wasn't the right word - it's hard to call a 6'7" guy who's built like that cute - but somehow, he was.

when she first met him, he was damn stoic and quiet - only focused on his job. and she understood - of course, the fate of universes could lie in his decisions. she, at first, was just glad to have been allowed into this elite society, so she kept her nose in her work, not straying far from it. soon, though, as she established herself as not only highly skilled, but also highly successful in her assigned missions, she took the opportunity to be herself around the others, knowing her nonchalant and jokey attitude wouldn't be enough for her to get reprimanded anymore. more importantly than that, she started seeing miguel a lot more, as he went from her boss - some guy a huge distance from her - to someone much more equal to her.

that led to the relationship - uh, working relationship, anything else she simply wished for - that they had: handling the big bads of the multiverse together. as partners. she was ecstatic at the idea, happy that her skill was being appreciated, and excited to know her work would be more valuable.

but then she met him. the - well, more - real him.

she was shocked to learn the man could laugh, the first time he let her signature spiderman humor - that she technically shared with most other versions of her - penetrate his cold and determined exterior. it wasn't exactly a laugh - more of a chuckle/snort - but it was more than enough for her to double take, and then smile.

as they set out on more missions together, she obviously appreciated his determination, strength and wit, but she really enjoyed those moments of softness, or when he'd react to her sarcastic humor.

and, of course, that time he had to hold her on their way back from that mission where she twisted her ankle was painful but very - uh, memorable.

she snaps out of her thoughts as he enlarges the information about both the villain's suit and universe-travelling machine.

"something like that," he starts, examining it further, before turning to the information about his suit, "his suit is built to withstand and reduce the effects of multiversal travel, and his defense and weapons seem to be modified military gear. so bullets and vests that just handle or deliver more damage." he mutters, and she nods.

"so - nothing too crazy." her confidence makes him smile, and he nods.

"yeah, sure." he looks over the information again, before shrugging, "a attack from the front and the back should be enough - front distracts while back webs. right?" he decides, nonchalantly. she grimaces.

"don't talk to me about your back webs," she jokes causing him to roll his eyes.

"understood?" he reiterates. she nods, saluting.

"yes, sir. should be home for dinner - heard they're serving empanadas!"

they were not back in time for dinner, much less in time for empanadas.

she'd decided it'd be easier for her to bait out the villain, knowing that most wouldn't take so kindly - nor give a moment of hesitation - to someone of miguel's build and stature. and it'd been fine, until miguel's overconfidence had led to only one of his hands being properly webbed up, allowing him to reach for his modified gun with its modified bullets. he had pointed it as miguel had his back turned, smiling down at her as he called over 587's spiderman to pick him up. she'd noticed before he could, pushing him out of the way before he could react. usually, she wouldn't be able to, but his shock left his position malleable, and his eyes widened - time slowing - as he could see the bullet puncture the side of her stomach.

he shouts out her name, reflexes working to catch her before she fell, and the sharp cry of pain she let out caused his heart to drop. he was pretty sure he had growled, shooting a web precisely at the villain's arm, and wrenching the gun from his grasp, only a hair away from doing something he'd regret. when a small "wait-" tumbles between her labored gasps, he places his anger to the side, immediately letting her squeeze his hand to power through the agony. he looks at her in confusion, wondering how the hell a bullet was causing her so much pain - especially with her spider-healing - but then remembered the modifications listed in the file - including increased damage. he breathes raggedly, completely unsure of what to do, as spider-587 swings past him, a little too excited for his liking.

before he can snap at the kid - he sounded like a college student, honestly - 587 notices her weakened health, coming to kneel beside the both of them. seeing the situation, he swallows harshly.

"uh - take her back to my place while i bring this guy in." he quickly mutters his address, and miguel nods gratefully, immediately picking her up, desperate to ensure that she can get patched up. he swings through the familiar-but-not streets of manhattan, clutching her tightly to him, as she does the same, worried about falling, but confident he wouldn't let her. his heart-rate quickens as he feels her tight hold on him weaken, a sign of her diminishing strength.

the window of the small apartment kitchen is open, and miguel slips inside, less careful than usual to be quiet, focused wholeheartedly on getting her situated. he slips into the bathroom, setting her down on the cold, tiled floor. she winces at the uncomfortable angle he has to have her in as she slumps against the wall, trying to take quick, deep breaths, but wincing whenever her chest rose. miguel desperately searched through the small bathroom's tiny cupboards, finding a first-aid kit. her eyes blink up at the stark green of the casing, a sigh of relief ghosting past her lips.

"you're okay - you're alright, just relax, okay?" he mumbles, tone uncharacteristically emotive. she hums a response, and the breath of her shaky exhale falls over his face as he bends down to examine the wound.

it's not great. far from it, in fact, as he can hardly see the bullet, wedged deep in her bleeding flesh. he lets out a ragged gasp, before forcing his mouth shut when he hears her whimper.

"is - is it bad?" she breathes out into the small space between them. he's not sure what to say. it objectively is, but he doesn't want her more upset in her current situation.

"i'll fix it," is the response he settles on, as he gets to work. in this job, he'd seen quite a few injuries - though not many were like this, and none that had happened to her. he works meticulously to extract the bullet and care for the wound, hyper-aware of how close they were. he could feel her soft breaths on the top of his head, her fingers would curl over his thigh as she tried to firm the uncomfortable sensations, and her chest would brush against his temple when she squirmed at the painful procedure. he tried to keep his mind focused, though it felt inclined to panic every time he heard her whimpers or gasps at a sting or ache.

what really made him panic, though, was when he stopped hearing them. having heard nothing but even breaths for the past minute or two, he looks up in confusion and sees her eyes closed, shoulders completely slumped.

"hey? you there?" he asks softly, waving a hand in front of her face, before decidedly getting more upset, his face scrunching in worry as he gently taps her face, careful not to move it too much, "hello? are you - mierda, mierda..." he trails off, voice becoming shaky. he looks over her face and, seeing the peace of it, he feels a strange mix of relief, that she seemed less in pain, and fear - as he'd seen that peace on many a dead man as well.

working more delicately, he continues the process, his eyes unable to leave her for more than a few seconds. he was trying to convince himself it was just to make sure she was still alright, but the more base part of him kept reminding him of just how much he cared about her, and how he truly hated the morbid thoughts that were encroaching his stressed mind.

"please, please don't give up on me," he mumbles, letting himself talk to keep sane, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, "fuck, stay strong for me. you're so strong, y'know that? and you're smart, and so skilled. i - i do really like working with you. even though - y'know, i'm kind of an asshole around you sometimes. you should see me around the others, though, that's just me. damn, that is just me," it'd transitioned to a ramble, "why - fuck, why do you even work with me? i'm so different from you, and you must feel weird in my company, but you're nice, and you always make me laugh - fuck. i do really like you. not just working with you. you - you mean so much more to me than you think and - well, i wish i could tell you that more often, dammit. i'm just..." he sighs deeply, his fingers brushing over her newly furrowed brows. he's worried that he'd hurt her, and he stops for a moment to let her unconscious self recover, before dropping his voice to a whisper, "i can't lose you, mi cielo, por favor no puedo perderte. i - i really need you to stay strong - stay alive for me." he looks at her relaxing brows, and turns away, beginning to work, as he curses himself internally for being stupid enough to not have said anything until the poor woman literally couldn't hear him.

except, she could. she was incredibly weak - too weak to move, or hold any tension in her muscles, or even open her eyes, but she was just slumped down - not unconscious. she had felt horrible when she couldn't open her mouth to tell him she was fine - well, at least, better than he thought she was - after she'd heard his worry, but she'd become truly upset she couldn't move when she heard his rushed and mumbled confession.

she wanted to reach up and tuck back that bit of hair that always fell over his face when he was working or stressed, and let her hands travel down behind his neck before she'd pull him in for a kiss, like she'd wanted to do for so long. she was over the moon at his words, her lips just barely parting in an effort to say something, but nothing came out. as she could hear him shift away, finally finished, she did fall asleep, still on the brink of returning his feelings.

it'd taken a night of sleep, but after the bullet had been taken out, her body had begun naturally healing, and by morning, she was nearly good to go. she still winced if she turned around too quickly, and miguel was absolutely insistent on half-carrying her to the on-deck infirmary at the spider society. it had led to a few confused glances in their direction, and hobie's admitted annoyance at seeing them together, so close. hobie didn't love miguel - as was known by most - but he found her much more interesting, and seeing that the both were definitely together - as confirmed by pav and miles' exclamations of the fact - he had resigned himself to a signature curl of his lips, before - after only a few short minutes - finding something else around him to critique.

as miguel set her down, she looked up at him expectantly, searching for that softness from yesterday. it didn't come in the form of his soft words, but rather in the look in his eyes, and the wordless moment he spent squeezing her hand, before mentioning something about having to go back to work, eyes averted from hers. she knew he must have felt awkward looking at her, not realizing she knew what he'd said, so she doesn't mind.

when she's discharged, she makes her way to his office, a box of empanadas from the cafeteria - saved, per her request - in her hand, and knocked on his door. he lets her in, lowering his platform in a heartbeat. she realizes it's going faster than usual, and laughs to herself, realizing he truly did do that slow drop for dramatic effect. he tries to refuse the food, suggesting she eat them and rebuild her strength, but she brushes him off.

"where would i be if you weren't playing doctor, miguel?" his eyes widen at her use of his first name - decidedly uncommon in their interactions.

"is - are you okay? didn't hurt you too bad, did i?" he mumbles softly, looking at her with a worried gaze. she shakes her head, smiling.

"not at all. i did want to mention something to you, though." he looks at her, inquisitive.

"yeah?"

"también eres mi cielo."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #mi cielo #oscar isaac

688 notes · View notes

ivysangel · 6 months ago

Text

listen, i think smut is great. i read it, i write it, i think about way more than is probably considered healthy, but i don't think it should be as readily accessible in bookstores as it is right now, and especially without warnings.

i went to barnes & noble with my friend a few weeks ago and in the front of the store was this humongous romance section that had hundreds of those booktok romance books that was trending now. i wish i had a picture to show you guys just how big it was, because there were like six or so book cases and then this big table with some "romantic summer reads".

naturally, because it's what's trending right now, so many of the books had those really cute cartoon couple drawings. you know the one's where the two mc's are standing next to each other, or back to back, or hugging or smth (ykwim) and all of them were completely innocent looking and not marked as having adult content in any way. this isn't my first rodeo or anything, so i know that a really good chunk of these books have graphic sex written in them despite having no warnings or indicators of such content. and sure enough as me and my friend are flipping through them we're seeing all of the graphic depictictions of sex that if you were just reading the blurb on the back you would not know existed in the book.

the rationale i've seen from a lot of the authors and readers of the book are that they want something "inconspicuous" that doesn't draw attention to the fact that they're reading smut in public or whatever. and while i understand the sentiment, there's got to be some kind of regulation for this kind of thing. because some kid who's just looking for a cute romance book accidentally picking up smut is actually very bad and shouldn't be normalized in the slightest.

and i always see people saying, "well their parents should be checking the stuff they read anyway" or "i read smut when i was young so i don't see what the problem is" which pisses me off so bad because:

A) i know that when i was younger my mom didn't monitor what i read because the books i was reading were never misleading. both the covers, blurbs, and warnings (if there ever were any) were in line with the content of the books i read and there was no reason to be worried. i'm almost 100% sure that when most parents go to the bookstore with their kid and their child picks up a book with a cute cover, and the info about the plot on the back says nothing about it being anything other than a cute relationship, they don't think anything of it. maybe if it was one of those harlequin novels with the shirtless guys and the ladies with their boobs spilling out of tight dresses they'd tell them to put the book down but because the covers of new age smut books are designed to decieve, that's exactly what they do. decieve. and if it works on your friends and family and everyone around you, why in god's name wouldn't it work on someone's parent.

and B) it's no secret that kids have been reading smut well before they should for ages. i read smut as a kid, some of my friends read smut as kids, lots of people have and will continue to do so, the difference is that it wasn't as mainstream and easily accessible as it is now. not that you had to scour the internet for it, a quick search on wattpad would give you a million results, but it wasn't something that wasn't so publicly advertised, and sold. in my experience, it was the kind of thing that you heard about from a friend who heard about it from another friend not fucking tiktok. the biggest social media platform rn.

i'd also like to point out that if you read smut when you were younger and grew up to not understand how harmful it is, even going as far to encourage kids to read it, you're a huge fucking weirdo. i'm only 18, still very much a "child" by some people's standards, and i get chills when i remember how young i and some of my friends were when we created our first wattpad accounts. which is probably why i care so much about this topic, i don't think children should be exposed to that kind of stuff at all, and i don't like how now anyone of any age can walk into a bookstore and either knowingly or unknowingly pick up some freak nasty sex because a bunch or horny people on tiktok can't understand how harmful it is to have these books in so many places without any warnings whatsoever.

also: this had already gotten so long but i forgot to mention that there's a rising interest in "dark themes" and those books DEFINITELY need a warning. i wrote an essay once on how unregulated darker themed media has contributed to the idealization of toxic relationships in young people, and i'd like to say that right now i think booktok is one of the biggest contributors

#this isn't edited.#i just wanted to get it off my chest

57 notes · View notes

gay-wh0re-slut · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, I just wanted to know if you could write a story with rhea x Fem! reader where the reader is ashamed of her body hair and Rhea comforts her,ending with a big smut✨️

Sorry for this request but my body hair makes me very uncomfortable and I need to read something like this🥺

don’t be sorry! body hair is normal and everyone has it! society has told us (women esp) that body hair is bad but it’s not, it’s natural! you can do whatever you want with it, shave it, don’t shave it, hell braid it if it gets long enough lol, i know it’s easier said than done but never be ashamed for things that happen naturally as a human being but don’t worry friend, i got you.

Ever, Ever

rhea x fem!reader

content: talks of body hair but then turns to hot sexy times with hot buff goth wrestler gf ooooo (slight choking, praise, oral, fingering, squirting hehe)

You giggle at a funny post you found on instagram, “look!” you turn the phone to Rhea who was sitting beside you on the bed.

She was doing some work on her computer but she turned to look, “oh, that’s a good one,” she laughed with you.

The two of you continue to sit in comfortable silence as she types away and you scroll away. You both loved nights like this, nothing going on, just being together, relaxing and enjoying each other’s presence. It was a good reset for both of you, with your nine to five job and her crazy one, it was good to just be.

She slammed the enter key one last time and closed her laptop, “finally,” she sighed as she placed it on the side table. “Do you want a snack?”

“Ooooh, yes please!” you smile at her.

“I’ll be right back,” and she walked out of the bedroom.

You smile thinking that there’s no where else you’d rather be. You’re with the love of your life, having a night in, doing absolutely nothing, well, now you were. She comes back in with a lot of things.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what you wanted so I brought options,” her arms were full with cheez-its, fruit snacks and who knows what else.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “thank you, baby.”

She displayed them all out over the bed, she gestured dramatically over them twinkling her fingers to show you the options.

You decide on the fruit snacks, two bags because one is never enough.

“Good choice,” she said picking up the protein bar.

“C’mon, live a little,” you joke to her.

“Fine, fine,” she throws the bar down and taps her chin thinking. Finally she chooses the potato chips, “better?” she held them up, they were still the healthy ones.

“Yes, thank you,” you laugh.

“I’ll take the rest back,” she gathers up the remaining snacks and heads back to the pantry.

The two of you sit on your phones, enjoying your respective snacks, showing each other funny tiktok’s, memes, and cool drawings people made of her.

Her hand landed on your thigh, but you thought nothing of it, she loved to be touching you whenever she could.

You didn’t notice her put her phone down but you did notice when she moved herself closer to you and started kissing your arm. You kissed her head in a response but she kept going. Gently kissing up your arm until she made it to your neck. Wave after wave of pleasure sent through your body with every kiss. She took your phone out of your hand, that you weren’t really paying attention to anymore, and put it on your side table.

The hand on your thigh moved up to gently caress your hot center, “c’mon baby,” she whispered.

You moaned softly into her touch but suddenly stopped her, “no wait-”

“What’s wrong? You okay?” she immediately pulled her hand away.

“Yeah, it’s just… you’ve been away so I haven’t, uh… shaved,” your face was red from embarrassment.

“Baby,” her face softened, “I love every part of you no matter what. A little hair isn’t gonna hurt me.”

“But I don’t want-”

“Unless you got some crazy thing going on down there, like teeth or something,” she chuckled, “I don’t mind one bit.”

You tried to talk, “But it’s gro-”

She put a finger over your mouth, “It’s not gross, it’s not ugly, it’s normal. Do you care when I don’t shave?”

She didn’t move her finger so you just shook your head.

“Exactly,” she finally removed her finger, “if you don’t want to continue, that’s perfectly fine, but unshaven or not, I’m still gonna love you,” she smiled.

You gave her a weak smile, “are you sure? Because it’s pretty gnarly.”

“Baby…I promise.”

You stared at her for second to make sure she was really sure, “okay.”

“Now, can I get back to what I was doing or…” she said jokingly.

You giggle, “yes, please.”

Giving you a devilish grin, she bows her head to kiss your neck again, leaving soft slow pecks on your skin. She moved herself on top of you straddling your hips. Your hand tangled into her hair keeping it out of her way.

She nibbled at your ear until she whispered, “You’re so…” she kissed your jaw, “hypnotizing…” she kissed down your jawline, “and beautiful…” one of her hands snuck to your neck and gently squeezed, “and…” her hand clutched to your neck hard as she looked you in the eyes, “don’t you ever, ever think otherwise.”

Your eyes were wide but your smile was huge at the sensation, “yes Mami,” you choke out.

“Good,” she barked as she released her hand, “my sweet girl,” she then she dragged her hand over your shirt down to your pajama shorts, sneaking it under the waistband. Her fingers found your dripping center, “look at you,” she gently swiped her fingers against you, “barely even started and you’re already ready for me.” She teased at your entrance, but decided against it. So she settled for teasing your clit instead.

Your back arched as a long moan left you, “mmmmcan’t help it,” you released your breath. One of your hands was behind her neck while the other was on the back of her thigh pushing her in closer, digging your nails into the tattoos as she continued to work her magic. You pull her neck down so that she could kiss you, and that she did.

You didn’t expect it to be, but it was hot and sloppy and you begged for more. Her hand below went faster as the kissing became more intense. You made small whines into her mouth between labored breaths. Her lips finally let go of you as she pulled her hand out.

You huffed at the loss, but she quickly got off of you and yanked your shorts and underwear off and threw them onto the floor. Without hesitation, she spread your legs and immediately began to lap at your wet folds.

“Fuck,” you groan as your hands found their way back to her hair.

Her arms curled around your thighs, “you taste so good, babygirl,” then she began to suck on your clit.

You tightened your grip at her words as your eyes pinched closed but you could feel her smiling against you. You were squirming but she was holding you perfectly still with her insane strength. She finally let go of one of your legs, teasing her fingers at your entrance once more.

“Mhmm…yessss, please!” you whine.

“You know I love when you beg,” and she pushes her way inside.

“Oh fuck,” as your back arched again.

She was pumping in and out of you at a steady pace as she continued to use her tongue on your pulsing bud. You writhed under her grip but she kept your hips still. The pressure in your stomach was quickly building, “harder, mami, please!”

“Oh, you want it rough today, princess?”

“God yes, please,” you beg.

“As you wish,” she grinned.

You barely noticed but in one second she removed her hand, flipped it over, plunged back into you so now the heel of hand was facing up and her two middle fingers were pumping into you at an outrageous pace. She kissed your thigh before she maneuvered herself back on top of you. She kissed you, making sure that you could taste yourself on her tongue.

She trailed her kisses down your neck, then began to bite, rolling your skin in her teeth, “you’re doing so well,” she whispered, she sucked at your skin not caring if she left a mark, “you feel so good on me,” she said in your ear.

You were untangling beneath her, your eyes were in the back of your head, your hands were gripping at anything you could reach, her arms, her back, her hair, the sheets. You barely had any air in your lungs, your hips were riding her hand that was setting the ungodly pace, trying so hard to keep up.

“I know you want to, baby,” she grinned at the noises that were spilling out of you, “I’m not going to stop you,” her voice was calm and sultry, it was driving you insane, more than you already were.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” you screamed.

“C’mon baby!” she yelled over your deafening whines.

You gasped for air as you curled up with your mouth wide open and your eyes rolled back, “FFFUUCKK!!” the pressure inside of you released so violently that you slammed your head onto the pillow beneath.

She immediately pulled her hand out of you as you squirted all over the sheets and her hand that couldn’t move fast enough.

“Holy fuck,” you heard her say over your loud moan. She plunged back into you when you were done and continued her pace smiling from ear to ear, “again,” was all she said. Though this time, her free hand found its way back to your neck and squeezed.

Your hands gripped her arm as you gave her a wicked smile. Just a minute later, the pressure was back and ready to be released again. You groaned, whined and moaned as well as you could under her hand.

“Just one more time, princess, one more for me,” she commanded.

You followed orders and the knot in your stomach untangled again. You couldn’t say anything but a loud scream of pleasure, as she removed her hand, still not fast enough, and you squirted once more.

She released the grip on your neck and you immediately pulled her in for another sloppy kiss. Your lips smacked as she pulled away, “You’re so fucking hot,” she breathed.

You couldn’t fathom saying anything you were so weak so you settled for the wicked smile. You kissed her once more before going completely limp underneath her.

She sat on her heels next to you. She looked the mess you made underneath your bottom half and chuckled, “We gotta wash the sheets.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #god i need her so badly

179 notes · View notes

1004tyun-archive · 2 years ago

Text

❥ i love you. i want us both to eat well

✶ pairing: idol!taehyun x non idol! chubby reader

✶ summary: taehyun's coming to stay with you for the week and you feel it's time for a big change. but you don't realize it's an unneeded change until it's too late

✶ genres: angst, hurt/comfort with lots of smut at the end (as a treat!)

✶ warnings: reader has a bad relationship with food, intrusive thoughts, bulimia, negative self talk, brief mention of vomiting, mentions of weight, eating disorders, negative body image, praise kink, squirting, edging, face sitting, unprotected sex

✶ word count: 4.7k words

✶ a/n: i've noticed a general lack of chubby reader fics so i thought i'd do my part and write a hurt/comfort fic involving tyun ^_^ this was very comforting for me to write personally, but if any of the aforementioned warnings are triggering to you in any way, i don't recommend reading. i don't want any of you to get hurt or apply the very harmful things the reader does in this fic to your lives.

this fic is NOT endorsing disordered eating. i do not endorse nor support thinspo, body shaming, eating disorders, or hating your body, no matter your size. as a plus size person myself, i think it's important to love your body as it is and i hope this fic provides solace and comfort to those who have a bad relationship with food or their bodies. you're beautiful the way you are and i hope you're able to love your body the way taehyun loves your body in this fic <3

love you lots 🫶🏾 if you need anyone to talk to about this subject matter, my inbox and messages are always open x

It's a slow work day; slow, boring, and tedious.

And you're starving.

You forgot to bring your lunch with you so your measly meal of a granola bar and black coffee was nothing to write home about. You can't wait to get home and eat some real food while facetiming your lovely boyfriend.

On the way to your apartment complex, you see a gift shop with a TV playing compilations of idol dance challenges from Tiktok from the display window. You decided to stop and watch for a bit once you recognized one of the Taehyun's fellow group members. Sure enough, the next video that plays is one with Taehyun in it.

Oh, he looks so good. He's doing some kind of girl group dance with a couple of the group's members. The girls are dressed so cutely with perfectly manicured hair and nails and makeup. There's a voice in the back of your head that's saying things you don't want to hear, so you ignore it.

But with every step closer to your apartment, the voice grows louder and louder.

They look so much better with him than you ever could.

They're prettier and skinnier than you. You don't think you actually deserve him, do you?

He's probably cheating on you with one of those girls. Who could blame him? He's too good for you, you both know that.

There's a bad taste in your mouth by the time you get to your front door. Despite your brain doing everything it can to ruin your day, you decide to rummage through the fridge for some food anyway.

You're pretty good at keeping the fridge stocked when Taehyun isn't around, but as soon as you start assessing your options, your appetite starts to wane. You think back to those gorgeous female idols you saw on television, with their glamorous bodies.

Slender waists, rounded hips, lithe arms and legs, dainty hands, and long, silky hair.

You don’t look like that, you know you don’t.

But maybe you could if you tried a little harder.

Your phone ringing snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. Seeing Taehyun on your phone screen immediately eases your pain.

"I saw you on TV today," you say.

"Oh yeah? Was I cool?"

"You were the coolest," you say with a smile.

"Did you eat?" he asks and your throat goes dry.

"Yeah, I went out to get something before I got home. Did you?"

"Mhm, I just got done eating dinner."

Taehyun looks a little antsy, like he wants to say something so you call him out on it.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's- Okay, I wanted to surprise you, but I can't keep it in. I finally have a break in my schedule so I'll be home all week starting next Sunday,"

"What? Baby, that's great news! I can't wait to finally see you. It's been too long! I mean, I know it's only been a week since we saw each other, but still!"

By the time you hang up, your heart is soaring. You get to stay with your boyfriend for a whole week! What sounds basic to some sounds like paradise to others, truly. The life of dating an idol is a very different world, to say the least.

You looked down at your stomach and frowned as you squeezed its flesh. You've put on some stress weight, no doubt about it. What would Taehyun think? Yes, you were chubby when he first met you and you're chubby now, but there's no doubt he would notice the weight you've put on recently.

He's going to be home in less than a week. What if he realizes he deserves better and he's been settling for you this whole time? Taehyun is a celebrity, he could have anyone he wants. So why you, of all people? You both know he could never go public with his relationship with you for privacy reasons, but maybe it wasn't just that.

Maybe he was ashamed to be seen with you.

As you go to bed later that night with an empty stomach, you recognize that something has to change.

So when the next morning comes, you decide to start with eating less and walking to work instead of taking public transit. You learned to appreciate the four mile walk there and back every day to appreciate the morning dew and the passing scenery as you listened to your favorite songs.

But it wasn’t enough. You weren’t losing weight quickly enough and the ideal version of yourself who lived in your head wasn’t matching your reflection in the mirror.

So you start going running every day after work. You run a couple of laps on the track at the community center near your workplace. You feel energized after working out so much, but damn, you're hungry. No matter how much your stomach growls, you wave off the voice telling you to eat and drink some cold water to satiate your hunger instead.

The next thing you know, it's D-Day. Taehyun is coming home tonight and you can't wait. You don't work weekends, but you keep up with your routine regardless. You walk to your workplace and then run your several laps around the track until you've sufficiently tired yourself out.

By the time you get home, you're able to shower, clean the apartment, and relax for a few hours.

You're watching a program about weight loss on your laptop when you get a call from Taehyun and immediately pick up.

“Me and the guys were thinking about getting dinner tonight. Wanna come?”

You're glad he can't see the discomfort on your face.

“No thanks, I’m swamped with work tonight.”

“Are you sure? We’re going to your favorite chicken place.”

“I’m sure, love. Thanks.”

“Okay, let me know if you want anything.”

It hurt a part of your soul to decline going to your favorite restaurant. You swear the savory, sweet and spicy crunch of that hot honey fried chicken had healing properties. But you have bigger things to worry about. You need to stay focused.

You fall asleep on the couch and startle awake when you hear the front door of your apartment clicking open.

“I’m home,” Taehyun calls from the entryway. His voice is followed by the sound of rustling plastic bags. You slide your laptop off your lap and give your boyfriend a quick kiss on the lips.

“Welcome home,” you say, then take a look at the plastic bags Taehyun is carrying in each hand. “What’s all this?”

“Some extras from dinner. I brought some stuff back for you, too.”

Your stomach twists. “Oh, honey you didn’t need to do that.”

“I never believe you when you don’t ask for anything,” he says with a laugh. “Anything you don’t finish you can take to work tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you smile but you feel like you’re dying inside. Why does he have to be so considerate? As nice as the gesture is, you’re not eating a single bit. You swear to yourself that you won’t.

As delicious as that food looks and smells, successfully resisting temptation feels better than that food could ever taste.

You brush off the gurgling of your stomach as you go through your nighttime ablutions.

It’s 4:00 AM when your cravings become too strong to ignore. The growling of your stomach grows louder, unbearably so.

You turn your head to check on Taehyun, he’s still fast sleep. Maybe this was the perfect time to do what you wanted to do.

You sneak off to the kitchen, grab the cold paper boxes of food and arrange them on your small dining table. Smelling and looking at the food isn’t the same as eating it, you tell yourself. There’s nothing wrong with smelling or observing the food, as long as you don’t eat it.

This should be easy…

Shouldn't it?

You black out hours later and the first thing you’re faced with is a multitude of empty takeout boxes. Two boxes of fried chicken, a box of garlic fries, steamed rice, and two apple mango hand pies. Foods that are usually your favorites yet all you could do was panic.

You start hyperventilating and your vision blurs as you stumble to the bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet, shoving your index finger down your throat and trying your hardest to remove any of the food you ate. After reaching deep enough, you gag around your finger and vomit, bile stinging your throat and tears filling your eyes. You empty your stomach and vomit until nothing but stomach acid comes up, the metallic taste coating your mouth.

"Y/N?" Taehyun asks from behind the door. "Are you okay?"

A string of drool hangs from your bottom lip and you've never felt more repulsed by yourself until now.

"I'm fine, just a little sick."

"I'm coming in—"

"—No! No, I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, honey, really. I'll see you later tonight, okay?"

"Okay, see you tonight." You can hear the doubt in his voice. It pains you to lie to him like this, but you know this would upset him. You gather enough strength to drag yourself up from the bathroom floor and start getting ready for work.

That was a close call. There's no way you can let that happen again. The binging, the vomiting, having Taehyun worry about you, any of it. If you were planning on continuing this, you had to be discrete about it, even if it meant lying to your boyfriend's face.

So you decide to stop eating altogether.

And at first, you feel fine.

You're able to get through the work day by chewing gum or drinking cold water to keep yourself awake. When Taehyun comes home with food or cooks for the both of you, you lie and say you already ate at work or you're not hungry.

And you know Taehyun senses that something is wrong, but you can't tell him. You could never tell him.

This wasn't going the way you expected it to.

You wanted to enjoy coming home from work and have Taehyun play your househusband for the week, but by the time you get home every night, you're so exhausted. You fall asleep on the couch, sometimes even mid conversation, and you wake up hours later with a pounding headache and a blanket thrown over you, courtesy of your sweet boyfriend.

And by the end of the week, you hardly have the energy to even stand up in the shower.

"Have a good day at work today," Taehyun says and gives you a kiss on the forehead at the door. That on its own gives you enough energy to make it through today.

You cross the crowded street, feeling normal, albeit a bit tired.

And then, out of nowhere, you feel like someone pulled the plug on you.

The next thing you see is the blurry ceiling of a hospital room, nothing but beige and speckles. You gasp like you’ve just come up for air and look around. You're connected to an IV and a heart rate monitor and, out of the corner of your eyes, you see...

"Y/N!"

Taehyun rushes to your side, taking your hand in his. Your heart is pounding when you see him. He looks so worried. He must've been so afraid for you.

"Y/N, why? Why didn't you tell me something was wrong? Why'd you do this to yourself?" he asks, standing tears in his eyes. Your heart sinks. There's no way he doesn't know how you got here.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to find out.

You were supposed to silently starve yourself until you became beautiful. Not worry him like this.

You failed. Your throat goes dry, rendering you unable to speak.

You just sit there silently and sob.

You’re discharged the following afternoon. Taehyun doesn’t speak to you the entire ride home and you feel like utter shit for it.

As you step into your shared apartment and kick off your shoes in the entryway, you decide to finally break the silence.

“Taehyun, I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out about this—“

“—Why? Why wouldn’t you want me to find out? They told me you passed out in the middle of the street! You could’ve gotten hurt! What if something serious happened to you and I never found out?”

You stand there in silence, tears filling your eyes. He’s never sounded this upset with you in the nearly two years you’ve been together. You could feel your heart shattering.

“Why’d you stop eating?”

The gravity in Taehyun’s voice makes your stomach drop. You need to sit down for this one.

You walk to the couch in the living room and Taehyun follows, sitting next to you.

“I starved myself because I wanted to be beautiful,” you say.

“You are beautiful.”

“But that’s not all. I wanted to be good enough, good enough for you.”

Taehyun looks at you, brows knit in concern. He takes your hand in his.

“What made you think that? Did someone say something to you?”

“No, no one said anything. It was all me. I kept seeing all those beautiful, successful female celebrities on TV and I-I wondered if you even felt good being seen with me, so I thought that… maybe if I stopped eating, I would be better for you.”

You feel so ashamed by even admitting this and, when you’re able to finally look at Taehyun, he looks devastated, like you admitted the greatest of sins to him.

“I never want you to say that again,” he says, sounding deeply hurt. “There’s no way you could be any more better for me. You’re perfect, Y/N. I can’t imagine being with anyone else except you. I've never been ashamed to be seen with you. You know that, don't you?"

Taehyun cups your cheek with his hand and it takes everything for you to not burst into tears.

“Don’t you?” he repeats softly and that drives you over the edge. “You know there’s nothing you could do to make me ashamed of you, right?”

You cry and he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Not even now?” you ask between sniffles.

“No, honey, not even now,” he leans in and kisses your cheeks. “I don’t want to lose a single ounce of you.”

He kisses your face all over and when he kisses you on the lips, you smile into it. This is the happiest you've been all week and the most relief you've felt in a while. You feel so embarrassed for the tears that continue to slide down your cheeks, but Taehyun just wipes them away and kisses you.

It's when he kisses your ear that you feel a sudden shift in the mood. He nibbles your earlobe and his lips drag down to kiss down your jaw. Your breath hitches and you hold back a moan.

"Don't hold back," he whispers into your ear. "Let me know how good I make you feel."

You sigh as you feel his lips move to your neck and he bites and licks the flesh, leaving a few hickies in his wake. You hold onto him tighter, the fabric of his shirt balled up in your fist.

Taehyun's hands move to your hips and before you know it, you're sitting on his lap, straddling him. You're a little hesitant, not putting all of your weight on him.

Taehyun grabs your hand and places it on the center of his chest. His heart is pounding against your palm and it causes your own heartbeat to quicken.

“Feel that? Only you can do that,” he says. He takes your hand and drags his down his body, down his toned chest, past his chiseled abs, all the way down to his cock, already halfway hard in his sweatpants.

“This is all you, too,” he whispers and your breath catches in your throat when you feel his cock twitch under your fingers.

“Oh my god…” you say, shuddered and breathless.

Taehyun grips your hips hard and pulls you down so your full weight is on him and you grind on his clothed bulge. He's never been this rough with you before, and it's giving you butterflies. You roll your hips and you revel in his hands roaming your thighs, your ass, and your waist.

You return to each other's lips like a magnet to metal. You drag your tongue across Taehyun's bottom lip and he parts his lips so you can slot your tongue into his mouth.

You pull away panting, your lips shimmering with spit. You squirm, wanting to say exactly how you feel but the words are stuck in your throat as you look upon your boyfriend, his hair tousled, lips glossy, and eyes dark.

"What is it, honey? Use your words," he says, looking deep into your eyes.

"I-I need you so badly, I can’t take it."

"Then let's tend to that need right now," he says with a smirk. You head to the bedroom and you're surprised when Taehyun pushes you onto the bed and hovers over you, drinking in every inch of your body.

"God, you're so beautiful," Taehyun says. "No one else gets to see this except me."

He peels off his clothes, down to his boxers and he slowly undresses you, peppering kisses all over your body. He presses a thumb to your now dampened panties and watches with sparkling eyes as he rolls your panties off of you.

"Wait, my turn," you grab at the waistband of his boxers and the corner of his lips turn up into a smirk.

"Be my guest," he says confidently. Your hands tremble a little bit as look down at his clothed cock. You notice a damp spot and that only serves to make you wetter. You slowly pull the boxers down past his thighs and his hardened cock springs free. He kicks his boxers off and immediately comes back down to the bed to kiss you, his cock resting against your soft stomach.

He slides his thick cock against your aching pussy and you shudder when you feel a vein rub against your clit.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers sweetly. “Can’t wait to be inside of you, honey... But before that, I need you to promise me something."

"Hm?"

"Promise me that you'll eat when you're hungry and take care of yourself."

You blink, confused at the sudden 180.

"What?" you ask. Suddenly, you're jolted by Taehyun slapping his cock against your clit with a wet thwack. Your back arches off the bed and your eyes widen.

“Promise me or I won’t fuck you.”

You gulp and you can feel yourself blushing all the way to the tips of your ears.

“I-I promise,” you say before Taehyun slaps his cock against your clit repeatedly, causing you to squirm and moan.

“Promise what?”

“I-I promise I’ll eat.”

“And?”

“I promise I’ll take care of myself,” you whimper. "I promise I'll treat myself better."

Taehyun gives you a cute, boyish smile.

"Good," he leans down to rest his forehead against yours and kiss you. You feel the head of his cock poke and rub against your entrance and you whine. He pushes into you and you gasp, grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as he slowly enters you, inch by inch. You clench around him tightly and he sighs.

"You feel amazing," he groans. "You okay?"

"Mhm, feels so **good," you moan and Taehyun leans down to kiss you again. He buries himself deeper into you until he bottoms out and you wrap your legs around his torso, shuddering at the sensation of him buried so deep inside of you. He pulls out all the way then sinks all the way back in to fuck you at a fast, even pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, relishing just how full he makes you feel.

"Mmm, I-I'm close, 'm so close," you mewl, clenching hard around Taehyun's cock.

“Cum for me,” he breathily demands as he reaches down to play with your clit, pleasure shooting through your body like lightning.

Your orgasm rips through you like nothing you'd ever felt before. Taehyun is relentless, continuing to fuck you as you ride the waves of your orgasm.

"That's it, that's it," he coos. "So good, baby." He swipes his thumb against your clit quickly as he thrusts into you, urging you to cum again. You feel a different kind of pressure building in your lower stomach, one that you can't stop from releasing until it's already happened. The sheets underneath you are soaked and your entire body heats up as you realized what you've done.

"Wow," Taehyun says, astonished. "I've never seen you do that before. Fuck, you're so wet."

He mercilessly pistons in and out of you, sweet moans spilling from his mouth as he cums inside of you. He buries his face in your shoulder and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Hear that?” he asks.

Through the haze of your post-orgasm, you can hear the sound of wet skin slapping against skin as Taehyun lazily ruts into you, rolling his hips against yours.

“So messy… you made such a big mess all over my cock,” he babbles, breathless and impressed. You’re shocked to feel his cock twitch inside of you when he says that.

Taehyun slowly pulls out of you and you whine, already missing the presence of his cock inside of you. He rolls over next to you so that you’re laying shoulder to shoulder on the bed.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your breathing still ragged from just moments ago.

“Come here,” he says. “I want you to do that on my face next.”

“Taehyun!” you gasp. You don’t remember him being so filthy like this before. He’s had his flirty and handsy moments in the past, but those were nothing compared to this side of him.

He motions for you to come straddle him and you’re immediately seized with nervousness.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he says. “Or do I need to get you over here myself?”

“Okay, okay,” you prop yourself up on your elbows and slowly inch yourself closer toward Taehyun until you’re straddling his waist.

“Good girl, now put your thighs on either side of my chest.”

This is the first time he’s ever called you a good girl and honestly? You want him to say it a million more times. A tingle goes down your spine as you follow his instructions, maybe he should boss you around like this more often.

You feel more exposed than ever as you just barely hover over his face. You’ve never done anything in this position before, your heart is racing out of excitement and worry.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?”

“Mhm,” Taehyun says. “I’ve been dreaming of doing this for a while now, actually.”

“But what if I hurt you? I don’t wanna put too much weight on you and—“

“—Y/N, you’re thinking too hard about this.”

“I know,” you say. You squeak when you feel Taehyun press a kiss to your pussy.

“Trust me,” he says softly and your heart melts. He reaches a hand up to play with your pussy, fingers gliding around your folds. “I wish you could see this. Everything about you is so pretty, Y/N.”

You could say the same thing about him. There’s something about seeing Taehyun lie there on his back, dark brown hair sticking to his forehead and his big, brown eyes made darker by his dilated pupils that made him look angelic.

“Lower yourself down on my face, good girl.”

Again with the good girl. Does he know he can make you do anything just by calling you that?

You take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto his face and your breathing becomes ragged the moment you feel the flat of his tongue against your pussy.

His hands come up to grip your thighs and hips. You bite your bottom lip to contain your moans as Taehyun goes to work on your pussy, tongue sliding in and around your folds and the ridge of his nose bumping against your clit. It feels so good, better than you ever could have imagined.

You feel his tongue slide into your pussy and your hands fly to the headboard, gripping tightly as you gasp and moan.

“Fuck, Taehyun…!” you exclaim. He moans against your pussy and the vibrations push you closer to the edge. As he makes out with your pussy from this position, it’s so impossible to hold back. You carefully grind yourself against his tongue and before you know it, you’re seeing stars as your back arches and you cum hard, thighs trembling and hips rocking back and forth at a steady rhythm as you ride out your orgasm.

“S-Sorry!” you stammer as you lift your hips to allow Taehyun to come up for air, but you’re shocked when he pulls your hips back down and gives your core a few long licks and swirls his tongue around your clit. Your thighs clench and you whimper from the overstimulation. When he finally taps your thighs to indicate that he’s done, you pull off of him, straddling his waist.

“You taste so fucking good, my love,” he mumbles, chest heaving as he looks at you with half lidded eyes and the bottom half of his face wet and shimmering from your juices. He looks so fucked out, like he was the one who was just eaten out like a man starved. “You put every fruit on this planet to shame.”

"Stop, you're making me blush," you say with a shy chuckle.

"Don't get shy now, you were just riding my face a few second ago." You both laugh and Taehyun sits up and rests his hands on your soft waist. He gives you the softest smile and looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes and that's when it hits you.

You love this man, much more than words could ever describe.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you," Taehyun whispers into your skin and holds you tighter. You melt into his embrace, never wanting to leave from his arms or this moment. You wish you could live in his arms.

It's not until both you and Taehyun's stomachs start growling that the moment is ruined. You pull away from the embrace and look at each other with wide eyes and erupt into laughter.

"Guess we should get something to eat, huh?" Taehyun asks.

"Yeah, I guess so," you say, still giggling.

"Why don't I go run us a bath and you order our meal for tonight?"

"Sounds good to me."

You part with a kiss and, even though he's just in the next room over, you're so overcome with love for him. You get teary eyed as you browse your go-to delivery app.

In that moment, you're so thankful for his love, thankful you have each other.

#taehyun fic #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #txt smut #txt fic #crystal's fics #terry bear 🐻‍❄️❤️‍🔥

467 notes · View notes

dollishmehrayan · 12 days ago

Text

GET TO KNOW ME Q & A BY DOLLISH ── .✦

a/n: this is just mundane facts about me for hitting 500 followers under ONE MONTH!? So yeah this is a post! <3

Hii! So tysm for 500 followers so let me greet myself to you!, my name is rayan/rayaan (pronounced ri-yaan) and you can call me riri or dollish and my pronouns are she/her (I’m biologically a girl so it’s she and her for me always please don’t misgender me) so here are some fun questions I thought to answer!!! (I’ll be editing in questions you guys ask <3) ── .✦

ᥫ᭡ ASKED QUESTIONS ── .✦

1. ‘How did you get the name dollish’ - I got the name dollish actually when I was about 2-3 years old because i was slightly chubby and my neighbors always called me a “porcelain doll” and how I acted doll-like until they named me “dollish” because it was childish + doll combined and 80% of the ppl irl call me dollish

2. ‘Where have you learned writing? Like where have you learned writing.’ - I learned writing like as in being a writer because originally I wanted to be a actual author and illustrator (still do) and I had a BIG passion for writing ever since I was a kid and was learning sight words even though English is not my first language!

3. ‘Why do you not write smut or n$fw?? I see other writers doing it fine.’ - I personally when it comes to topics such as smut I don’t feel comfortable with in general because personally it’s very hard for me to get romantically attached and smut makes me uncomfortable and I also somewhat despise it so much because I hate reducing a character to sexual appeal and etc.

4. ‘how do you easily write like headcannons so fast and release like 3-2 headcannons a day?’ - I actually just type fast secondly I’m a very creative person tbh and I always eat a lot before I write and I also have like posts on like the queue thing too! Matter of fact I’m not that active on tumblr tbh but yeah

5. ‘What socials do you have??’ - I only have tiktok for now (I also have other a lot of socials but those are personal for now) but I’m thinking of making a twitter to like promote this tumblr account but twitter Lowkey scares me so I’d rather not have that audience.

ᥫ᭡ COMMON QUESTIONS ── .✦

What's your favorite way to spend a weekend? - I personally love going out with my friends to restaurants and very cool places I also love traveling I already have been to (excluding us states because I’ve been to a lot), Japan, South Korea, bali, Portugal, nederlands, france, Belgium, uk, china, india, Norway (like 5 times) and Spain, Egypt, Germany, Maldives, Mauritius, and etc

What's a book that you'd recommend? - the book is almost TOO good I might have to gatekeep for now😞 (jk tbh I don’t read much but I can answer this but with comics!)

Are you a morning person or a night owl? - night owl defo

What's your dream job? - either a fashion designer or author or a actress

Do you have any pets? - yes! Two cats, both are Siamese cats named ren and irene!

What's your favorite type of cuisine? - too hard to choose, I’d take any food tbh I’m not a picky eater

Do you have any siblings? - yes!

there anything you dislike in your writing life? - yes! I don’t like people who copy my work or write off a lot and secondly I think as in pet peeves about becoming a fan fic writer is when you get complex requests like “write what if batboys and they’re s/o were (really long and complex and so fanon blah blah)!” Like genuinely I love it but I can’t be doing all that.

Do you have any pet peeves? - I don’t like being told off or put on the spot + plus I really hate attention seekers and narcissists too and I think also like for some reason someone watching something with me pisses me off for no reason especially if they lean over to watch my phone when it’s really no problem 😭

What was your dream job as a child? - I wanted to be an author + illustrator too so bad but also I wanted to become a pediatrician because my parents tried to force me as that too

If you could have dinner with anyone, who's one person you'd go with? - for some reason chlöe Bailey no questions asked, SHE’S FUNNY OMG or maybe like you know one of my moots 💕

Do you have a favorite childhood memory? - I sadly for some reason don’t remember my childhood that much (I think it’s best that way) but I remember watching the Wonder Woman movie as a child and like BECOMING THE BIGGEST fan girl of dc comics and also like omg I loved it so much too and maybe also like hyperfixating on themyscira as a child and trying to find out about amazons and themyscira

What's your love language? - okay so like when I give I love to give like words of affirmation and when like I receive I LOVEEE gifts like generally I love gifts so muchhh

What are two things still on your bucket list? - I think sky diving, I had the chance once in LA but I couldn’t literally because of my like fear of heights too!

What’s your biggest fear - um definitely like spiders or like secretly being hated too but also I have. DEADLY fear of spiders I feel like I can’t breath looking at them I just hate them so muchh

Do you currently live in the same place where you were born? - nope!

#── .✦ dollish’s talk session #q&a #batboys #batboys x reader #dollishmehrayan

22 notes · View notes

bitbugbites-re · 1 year ago

Text

𝙳𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻 // 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

As summer comes to an end, you’re desperate to get some pool time in while you still can. However, since it’s now October, you’re pretty much out of luck. Luckily for you, there’s an indoor pool at the Y. Not to mention, it comes along with a cute pool boy!

a03 link

word count: ~8.6k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // drowning // ktober

a/n: literally supposed to be reading the bible for class rn but god be damned, this lady knows how to write erotic fiction !!!

p.s. -- if you're only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

You’re not crazy. You just want to swim.

Frowning, you stared down your phone as you read the most recent messages from your friends. They were replying to the flurry of texts you had just sent.

The first response read: “Girl. Lol.”

The next was: “You didn’t think about this in September???”

And the last response wasn’t even a response. It was a TikTok link leading to a video about things to do while in Vegas. You didn’t even live in Vegas. You’re on the East Coast.

You sighed, placing the phone down for a second before popping a Keurig cup into the proper machine, waiting for it to finish warming the water. When the buttons lit up, you pressed 12oz and leaned over the counter, one of your hands resting on your cheek. With your free hand, you picked your phone back up and re-read your initial texts as you listened to the liquid pour a straight line into your mug.

“u guys”

“I wanted to go swimming at least once this summer but I forgot”

“do u think there are any pools still open??? I don’t even care if its cold im desperate”

Yeah, so maybe you are a little crazy after all. It was October, and there was no way that even one pool would be open. You felt a little defeated, your desperation morphing into disappointment. Suddenly, the whirring of the Keurig slowed before spitting out the last bits of bitterly strong tea, a burning droplet jumping out and landing on your hand. You wondered if that was the Keurig’s way of calling you crazy as well.

Shaking your hand before wiping it with the opposite sleeve of your shirt, you stood up straight and leaned your back against the counter. With your phone in hand, you tapped out a string of shushing emojis in the group chat. Fuck it. You’re crazy and you’re proud.

You then pressed the video on, “Fun Things To Do In Vegas” which was accompanied by three exclamation points and a couple of emojis with their tongues out. The emojis implication almost made you a little scared of what “things” were going to be listed in the TikTok.

Before you could actually watch the video, though, a notification from your group chat popped up. It was from the friend who sent the Vegas video – they likely just now actually read the chat.

“Claire: Wait, what about the YMCA near your house? Doesn’t it have an indoor pool? Probably not the same kind of swimming that u were thinking of, but it’d be swimming lol.”

Oh shit. That’s a good idea. – Is what you both thought and simultaneously typed in response. Not missing a beat, you opened the search engine app on your phone and looked up the YMCA closest to you. Just under the images (which mostly consisted of it’s pool, oddly enough), you noticed that it was open from 5 A.M. to 9 P.M.

It was only 6:30 P.M. right now. Meaning, it was still open.

You switched back to the group chat’s tab and typed away.

“guess who’s going to the pool tonight”

“(it’s me)”

“anyone wanna come with?”

Surprisingly, the responses flooded in pretty quickly. They said:

“Claire: I wish, but I’ve got a class in an hour. I knew it was a bad decision to pick a class at 7 at night smh. Can’t ever meet up with u guys on weekends anymore :/”

“Ada: Can’t. Lots of work. Maybe next time.”

“Jill: Sorry, I’m at work right now. Had to pick up my coworker’s shift again. How about on the weekend?”

You groaned out a whine, throwing a mini-tantrum. You didn’t really want to go alone, because what fun would that be? Nonetheless, you didn’t want to wait for the weekend either. It was rare you guys ever actually had the same schedule, so you were sure the plans would just end up getting canceled or be pushed back even further. You’d just have to go alone.

You typed out a message informing your friends of your plan before placing the phone down with a heavy hand. Dragging your way down the narrow hall to your room, you plopped yourself down on your knees, opening up the dresser drawer that stored your bathing suits. You had an idea of which one you were going to wear, as it was a black one-piece with a deep-wired V down the front – It was appealing in the way that it wasn’t too revealing, but not unattractively modest either. Perfect for a venue that was family-friendly and not as free as the beach.

After a couple of minutes of rummaging, you slumped down to a hunch and huffed. You couldn’t seem to find the swimsuit. Not even after pulling out each bathing suit one by one. You searched, and searched, and searched, but it was nowhere to be found.

You caved to your frustration and picked out a bikini instead. You didn’t have any other swimsuits, so it was either a simplistic bikini or nothing. And after all that hullabaloo in the group chat, you were not choosing nothing.

Changing quickly, you then grabbed your things and headed for the car. It was now already after 6:45 P.M., and you were running out of time before the Y would close.

Soon enough, you were turning your car wheel to pull into the YMCA’s parking lot. You found a spot fairly fast and quickly put the car in park, removing your keys from the hole with a twist and pull of the wrist. As the car’s engine whirred, shutting off, you observed the parking lot. You noticed there weren’t too many cars. Hopefully, most of the people would be in the gym or another section of the Y and not the pool, you thought to yourself.

Stepping out of your car, you held onto the handle as you got dusted in the face by the wind, your hair flinging all over the place. The wind was pretty bad, but the chill alone was enough for you to huddle your arms over your body before running into the building. You were starting to regret coming to the pool so late in the day, especially in October, nonetheless. At least the air smelled nice, though; there must’ve been a place nearby having a bonfire, as there was a heavy waft of burning wood.

You pulled the heavy glass door open, practically swinging it with all your might, and walked in heaving. Maybe you should be going to the gym instead of the pool – how could you be out of breath from only a short jog across the parking lot?

No matter, you walked up to the counter and paid for a day pass. You got to go in free since you’re a first-time visitor, although you felt a little guilty considering it was going to be wasted on a less than two-hour excursion. It was probably fine though – you don’t think you’d need to go to the Y again after this, anyway.

Walking through the building, you admired the decorative furniture and monotone walls contrasted with bright accent walls and signs. It had a clean, modern look and you were pretty impressed by how well-kept it was; it must’ve been hard for the janitors who worked there considering it was a pretty big community establishment. You appreciated how spotless they were able to keep it with this knowledge in mind.

Soon, you found your way to the pool after getting lost and asking a very tired-looking staff member. You almost felt bad interrupting them – their dark undereye mixed with the lighting made them look as if they were ready to be taken out back and put down. Not that you blame them – they must’ve been here for a while now. You were sure you’d look like that too if you had to work until nine at night.

As you pushed the door to the pool open, you were immediately exposed to the hot, humid air. Typical of a pool. You had to admit, though, it felt pretty good as compared to the cold breeze outside. Besides, you probably wouldn’t feel this type of heat again unless you decided to put your heater on full blast in winter. Although that would turn your room into what was practically an oven and not a fun chlorine-smelling paradise – so maybe it wasn’t the same after all.

You observed the area, your eyes immediately landing on the few kids splashing around in the middle of the pool. Great. In situations like these, you tend to sit on the side of the stairs to the pool – but that spot seemed to be occupied by a group of older men and women, so you crossed that option off. You didn’t feel like getting dragged into a conversation about retirement homes, or grandchildren, or…stuff. You weren’t really sure what the elderly chatted about.

Admitting defeat, you decided to just go sit on one of the pool chairs instead. You figured you’d just wait it out, betting that both the kids and the elderly wouldn’t stay for much longer. It was almost pitch-black outside, and seeing both children and old people at night was practically like spotting a leprechaun next to a pot of gold, you thought.

As soon as you sat and plopped your stuff down in the middle-most chair, you took in a breath and looked around. And that’s when you saw him.

You swore your heart stopped beating for a second. He was gorgeous.

Most of the men you came across on a day-to-day basis looked downright horrendous, dressed in sweats and backward caps with dumb labels like “GymRat,” so to see a fit man with a haircut that suited his looks and facial scruff that looked like it was actively trimmed was like seeing that your younger sibling didn’t pick all of the marshmallows out of your favorite cereal and eat them. A blessing, that’s what this is, you thought.

You figured he was the lifeguard, as he was sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, leaning back with one leg dangling and the other using his heel to support his placement on the seat. He had one arm lazing on the armrest, while the other held his tilted head in place as he watched the kids dash up waves of water at one another. Every once in a while, his lips would curve into an amused smile, and he’d shake his black curls out of his face, eyes not straying from the children at play. Cute, you thought.

Watching him for a while longer, you noticed three things about him:

His eyes stayed trained on the kids in the pool, not the elderly. Every once in a while, if they made a sudden movement, he’d sit up, as if he were ready to leap from the tall chair at a moment's notice.

He seemed to be pretty proud of his body, or at least his looks. His posture was confident in nature and he never covered up any part of his body with his arms.

He had a charismatic personality, or at the very least, was on good terms with the janitors. Every time they passed by, he’d quickly turn his head, see who it was, and make a comment of some sort. He always had a grin on his face as he did, and never showed a bit of discourtesy nor dislike, even if the janitor didn’t return the energy.

Of course, those weren’t the only things you noticed about him. You also noticed he had a great body. Did you mention he had a great body? He had a great body.

He didn’t even need to be shirtless for you to tell. His arms and thighs were fat with muscle, his calves fit for a marathon runner, and his chest with mounds big enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew how to flex them one at a time, as a kind of party trick.

You also could tell that he was a pretty hairy guy, not that you were complaining. You liked that in a man. You wondered what it would feel like to run your hands down his arm as his legs brushed up against the skin of–

And then he looked in your direction. He saw you. As you were at your apex of wanting to eat him alive.

Your face burned with embarrassment as his eyes met yours, and before you made a fool out of yourself, you looked away. Grabbing your phone which now felt sticky from the humidity, you pulled up the group chat, pretending to be busy.

“guys”

“there’s a rly cute lifeguard here and he caught me staring”

“im so embarrassed”

You stared at the screen for a while, waiting for your friends to respond, but none came.

Damn. Why is it that whenever you need a distraction, no one is active?

It didn’t take long after for you to give up, slinking your phone back down. You picked up a book instead, sneakily glancing up at the lifeguard once more to see if he was still looking your way. He wasn’t. His eyes were trained back on the kids, which surprisingly, made you feel a little disappointed.

You read for a while until eventually, you received a notification.

“Ada: Lol. You have a crush?”

“Ada: You should go up to him.”

The longer you considered Ada’s suggestion, the more your heart raced. You seriously considered it for a moment, but abruptly shut it down after thinking about how weird it actually might be.

“I can’t do that”

“I don’t even know what I’d say”

Ada replied almost immediately.

“Ada: Then make him want to go up to you.”

It wasn’t bad advice. You thought about it for a bit, staring at the paved concrete below your pool chair. An ant scurried on by, passing your left foot, and once it was out of sight, you snapped out of your daze and returned your head to a forward position.

Once you did, you noticed the lifeguard’s gaze on you. He was looking at you first this time.

As soon as your eyes met, he flung his head to the side, pretending to rub his neck. It was pretty awkward to watch, as his hands moved aimlessly and unpurposeful, as there was really no physical reason for him to need to touch his neck. It was easy to tell that he was only doing it to play off the fact that he was caught staring, too.

His attraction – or at the very least, interest, was mutual, then. You felt a fire of confidence rising in your chest, and you now knew how you’d get him to come up to you first.

You stood up from your chair, keeping him in your peripheral view, pretending to dust yourself off before seeing his head move back in your direction. Good, he was watching you again.

Very slowly, you began to remove the regular clothes that rested atop your bikini. Once fully stripped to your swimsuit, you made sure to fold your clothes neatly. After each article was folded, you would bend over, your behind facing his direction, placing it flatly onto the pool chair. Each time you did this, you couldn’t tell if he was looking, but you were sure that he wouldn’t have been able to resist at minimum, a glance.

Once done, you began to walk towards the water. You felt a little conscious in your stride, your step heavy, but also determined to play it cool. When approaching the stairs of the pool, you grabbed onto the accompanying handlebar, creating a divide in the water as you were further submerged. You passed the elderly group, and once they thought you were out of earshot, one exclaimed, “I wish I still had a young body like that.” The others chuckled, agreeing with the notion. You blushed and continued your journey to an empty spot in the pool.

Wading through the water, you then came up near the area where the kids were playing. You went to the side opposite the lifeguard’s chair and leaned against the wall. It was a little noisy – no, very noisy being near the kids. On top of that, you were occasionally hit with splatters of water every time they tried to mimic professional swimmers, but at least your plan was working. You think.

You weren’t really sure because you were too scared to look back up at the lifeguard. But that’s OK. All girlbosses have their weak moments.

While lost in thought trying to figure out your next step on alluring the lifeguard (as, for some reason, he wasn’t already proposing marriage and offering a bride-dowry to your parents consisting of 400 sheep, 200 goats, fifty pieces of silver, a years’ worth of unleavened bread, and seven years’ labor), you noticed two children playing roughly, one a bone-thin blonde, and the other a brunette missing one of his front teeth.

The blonde child was in a small floaty, laughing as his friend tried to swim under the tube and get inside of it with him. Every time he dived under the water, the boy would swerve his donut-shaped float, swimming a few inches away, laughing. This went on for a while, until eventually, the blonde boy switched his tactic and began pushing his friend’s head away from his float while under the water.

You grew concerned as you watched, knowing they were starting to get a little too carried away, and you looked around for their parents. You then spotted a couple of adults on the pool chairs near the towel rack, busy conversing about something you couldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what to do and turned your head back to the kids, and then there was a stifled thump.

Your heart started to race as the blonde boy started to look worried, noticing his friend wasn’t coming up out of the water. You noticed what was happening when the child leaned over his tube, holding his reddened elbow, freezing in place.

The toothless boy was knocked out.

The child with scrawny arms somehow managed to deal a blow hard enough for his friend to lose consciousness. He whipped his head around to get the lifeguard’s attention, desperately screaming, “Help! Help!”

The lifeguard was already halfway down the chair even before the boy started yelling. It seemed like his gaze had been so focused on the children earlier because he knew something like this was bound to happen.

The child was now sobbing, looking around for his parents, of which the whole group was now running over to see what the commotion was about.

You saw the kid whose body started to sink downwards, your heartbeat stammering in your chest.

You had to do something.

Launching yourself forward, you began to swim to the child nearby. As you did, you heard the lifeguard jump in the pool, a loud splash of water mixing in with the cries of the children’s parents.

You made it to the boy under the water first, diving straight down. Once you got a hold of him, you yanked his arm up, pulled him to your body, and positioned his behind on your arm, so that his head would immediately be above the water.

Both of you came up, and you gasped for air, blinking rapidly so that you could see. The lifeguard was right next to you, hurriedly taking the boy from your arms, rushing him toward the edge of the pool, and plopping him down on the concrete. You followed over, as did pretty much everyone at the pool, watching the lifeguard push desperately at his chest.

After a short while, which actually felt like forever, the boy gasped, throwing up the water that was in his lungs. The lifeguard helped the boy sit up a little, rubbing his back as he continued his violent coughs and sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I got’cha, bud.”

Once the brunette had finally gotten a hold of himself, he ran to his parents, who held him and began petting his head. The other parents, who seemed to all be friends, began thanking the lifeguard profusely on both the boy's and his parent’s behalf.

The lifeguard was crouched, slightly hunched over, breathing heavily, simply shaking his head to assure them it was okay. “Just doin’ my job,” he smiled despite the apparent stress on his face, “Actually, you should be thanking the kind lady over there.”

His gaze moved from the worry-stricken parents to you. “She’s the one who saved his life.”

You blushed, your eyes moving from him, then to the parents, not sure what to say. You didn’t think you did that much.

The parents came up to you and began thanking you as well, telling you how brave it was of you to dive in after the boy. You were only able to stammer out a couple of “it’s no problem’s” and “thank you’s” in return.

Soon, almost everyone left the pool, deciding they had witnessed enough of the pool for the night. Even the group of elderly packed their things and headed towards the changing room.

You too had figured it was probably time to go, forgetting your entire plan of romancing the man who had just previously given you all the credit when he was the one to bring the boy back from unconsciousness.

However, as you turned and began walking back to your stuff, the lifeguard ran up to your side, trying to get your attention. “Hey, hey.”

You turned to face him, stopping in place. “Um–yes?” you said, a little taken aback at his greeting, not expecting him to have started a conversation.

“Ah–oh,” he said, tripping on his words. “I just wanted to thank you, for saving the kid.”

You smiled at his words. “Sure,” you said. You then tilted your head, quirking a brow. “I didn’t really do much, though. You did more than me, so–”

He quickly cut you off, a tint of excitement in his voice. “No, no! If you hadn’t gotten him out, he would’ve been under even longer. Every second matters–you saved his life. I only got the water ‘outta his airway.”

You blushed a little at his enthusiasm for your act of heroism. “Well, uh, thank you–”

“You were so cool,” he said, and you swore you felt your heart explode.“Thanks,” you mumbled out, and soon enough, silence grew between the two of you. You were trying to figure out what to say back.

“Well, I should–” the lifeguard started to say, turning his body to leave. You scrambled for a response back, not wanting him to go.

“You were cool, too.” You said, your voice sounding a little wobbly. You felt your face start to grow red, your blood rising in degrees with every millisecond that passed.

The lifeguard seemed shy now, too, raising an arm behind his head, rubbing at his neck like he did earlier. “Oh–really?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out.

There was silence once more before the lifeguard laughed a little and held out his hand to you. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet ‘ya, Phelps.”

You took his hand, shaking it gently. He had a good handshake, and his hand felt huge in your own. “Phelps?” you said, not really understanding why he was referring to you as that.

“You know, Michael Phelps? The swimmer guy? Because you dove in to get the kid?”

You let out a long “ooooooh” as soon as you recognized what he was talking about, and laughed in response. “Pretty rude to call a lady Michael Phelps, dont’cha think?”

He laughed back before running his hand through his hair – which, miraculously, was able to stay dry since you were the one to reach the kid underwater. “Sorry, pretty lady. What should I call you then?”

You blushed a little upon hearing him call you “pretty lady,” a cheeky grin growing on your face. “You can call me Y/N. Or pretty lady, too. I don’t mind either.”

He laughed, shaking his head in an amused manner. He placed his hands on his hips, and tilted his head back a little, grinning. “Okay, pretty lady. How old are you? You in college?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. What about you?”

“Yep. I’m a senior. You?”

You replied, and from there, your conversation began to take off. You talked about things as small as favorite colors, to medium things like what your majors were, to big things like how many dogs were too many dogs for a person to have. You both seemed to click really well, and you had to admit, you had never met someone as easy to talk to before Carlos.

As you both started passionately debating on whether or not the pool slide was white or beige, an announcement sounded over the speakers.

“Attention guests, the YMCA will be closing in five minutes. Please make sure to gather all your things and head to the exit. Those who are still in the building after closing will be escorted outside by staff. Thank you for choosing the YMCA, and we hope to see you again soon!”

You and Carlos looked at one another, not sure what to say.

You realized then, that all this time, you’d been keeping Carlos from leaving when he probably could’ve packed up early for the night. Embarrassed, you jumped up from where you both had been sitting. At some point during your conversation (before its interruption), you both had sat at the edge of the pool, your legs resting in the water.

“Shit, I’m sorry for keeping you–” you said. “I’ll go get my things so you can leave–I’m so sorry–”

As you turned in a hurry to go get your stuff, you felt Carlos’ hand rest on your shoulder, stopping you. “Hey, hey–you’re fine, you’re fine.”

You jumped a little at the contact, your face turning red, and once you turned to face Carlos, you noticed he had realized what he had done.

You were wearing a swimsuit. You had on practically next to nothing. And he, a stranger, was touching you.

He pulled his hand back, going to rub his neck, but pausing as he began to raise it. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself now. “Uh–”

“Sorry, shit–I didn’t mean to–uh,” he stumbled. “Was that weird?”

You took in a deep breath and averted your gaze. “No. No, you’re fine.”

“Are–are you sure?” he pushed.

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m worrying. You can tell me if–”

You sighed and looked him in his eyes. “It’s fine. I liked it.”

Upon hearing the words come out of your mouth, you froze. Your frustration with his reluctance to accept your assurance must have gotten to you, as you didn’t mean to say the last part.

“You liked it?” he said. He seemed a little surprised, with a mix of something else. You weren’t quite sure what.

“Um. Yeah–yeah.” you asserted. And then there was silence again.

Unable to take the awkward tension, you cracked a joke. “I’m flattered by your desperation to keep me from leaving. Very, uh–flattering touch.”

Turns out you weren’t very good at jokes.

Nonetheless, he seemed to like it. He chuckled a little, which made your heartbeat increase in pace. He seemed to have good humor even in cringy situations. You liked that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re flattered, at least. I’d do it again if I needed to.” He smiled.

You blushed, and that’s when your mouth started to move on its own. “Then do it.”

“What?” he said, a little surprised.

“I’m on my way to leave. The building closes in…” You checked the clock on the wall. “...a minute or less. If you don’t want me to leave, then touch me again.” You looked up at him expectantly.

He paused for a minute and it was clear he was debating on what to do. You waited, watching him shift in place – going to rub his neck again, as he had been doing whenever he was nervous.

Suddenly, it was 9 P.M. and the announcement over the loudspeaker played, declaring it was closing time and all the guests who hadn’t left yet needed to begin their way on exiting the building. Your heart dropped a little, taking his lack of response before the loudspeaker’s interjection as a “no.”

You smiled weakly, taking the hint. You turned to grab your things off the pool chair and spoke. “Well, it was nice to–”

In a heartbeat, he grabbed your shoulder with a sense of determination, spinning you towards him. He placed one hand on your hip, pulling you in, before kissing you with wild passion.

You felt the roughness of his stubble first and then the softness of his lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes, kissing him back.

He was a fast kisser, constantly changing the way he sucked at your lips, alternating between tilting his head to the side so that he could press his mouth into yours, and tilting his head downwards so that he could pull your mouth while you struggled to stay connected. He was constantly desperate for more access as if he wanted to make sure you felt him all over your lips, not one spot untouched.

Your hands rested on his soaking wet shirt that clung to his skin from when he had jumped into the pool to save the kid. It felt a little cold, but you got used to it as your kiss continued.

The only thing the two of you could hear was each other’s heavy breathing, along with the smack of your lips as they collided. That was, until, the sound of the pool door opened.

Both you and Carlos separated immediately, your lips feeling cold at the sudden touch of air, missing the warmth of Carlos’ own warm lips. You did, however, still feel the tingle left from his feverish push-and-pull play.

With about a two-foot distance now between the two of you, you both looked over to see what the noise was exactly.

In walked an older woman, one you would’ve guessed was in her early 60’s. Her hair was completely gray, resting in a shaggy bun with little hairs falling out. She looked rough – and ready to go home for the night.

“H–hey, Mary. You almost done for the night?”

She eyed him suspiciously before replying. “Wouldn’t that be a damn miracle.”

She continued to go about her business, and you felt awkward watching their conversation.

Suddenly, Carlos’ head shot towards you and then back towards Mary. “Oh, uh, I was just about to escort this…young, damsel-in-distress out of the building. She didn’t know where the exit was, you see.”

You shot him a dirty look as if saying, “I know where the exit is.”

Mary didn’t seem to care. She simply took the mop out of the water in the cleaning cart and plopped it on the floor. It made an uncomfortably loud squelch sound in an otherwise silent room. “Mmm.”

Carlos grabbed your things for you, and put an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I’ve gotta maintain my status as a gentleman, so…we’ll be on our way! See ‘ya later, Mary!”

It sounded like she mumbled out an “I hope not,” but you weren’t too sure.

The two of you walked quickly to the door, and once it shut behind you, Carlos let go of your arm.

“Well, that was, uh–something?” He smiled, still holding onto your clothes and other items.

“Yeah,” you said, before looking up at him with an amused smile. “Damsel-in-distress, huh?”

He laughed and shuffled on his feet. “What, you the type that doesn’t like to be saved?”

You smirked. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You wanna find out?”

He grinned as he looked at you, raising a brow in an amused fashion. “Only because you make it sound so alluring.”

After hearing his reply, you closed in on his body, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stood on your tippy-toes, whispering in his ear as your cheek brushed against his lengthy hair and scratchy stubble. “I’ll show you every part of me that you want, but you need to take me somewhere private first.”

You pulled back, and you saw that he was grinning. It was evident in his eyes alone that he was excited, although, there was a mix of something else, too. The other kind of excitement, perhaps – it was a very lustful look.

He held out his hand, and as you took it, he led you down the hall. You both laughed a little at the situation, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was cold in the building, probably mostly because you still only had on a bikini, but you weren’t too focused on it. The warmth of Carlos’ hand and the anticipation for what you both were about to do were the main things on your mind right now.

Soon enough, Carlos pulls you into a room, and you look around, observing it. It was a locker room, although you hadn’t noticed whether it was for men, women, or unisex. You figured it didn’t matter all that much, though – it’s not likely that anyone would walk in.

Carlos twirled you around, pulling you into his chest again. He looked down at you, smiling before leaning down and kissing you.

This time, his kiss was soft and exploratory. He took his time, not making any wild moves, although still leading the pace like he did the first time he kissed you. Maybe you were a damsel-in-distress after all – it was starting to seem like you were swept up in his game with no escape.

After a while, he broke away from the kiss, looking at you with gentle eyes.

“I don’t have a key to lock the door. Someone could walk in. Is that okay?”

You laughed a little, smiling. “Let them walk in.”

He chuckled back, speaking in a soft voice as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re a bold girl, huh?”

Before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. His hands moved down your back before interlacing his fingers, keeping you pressed to him.

The kiss you shared was slow again at first, but it didn’t take long for it to pick up again. At the apex of your kiss, Carlos pulled his lips away, moving them to the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, and finally to your neck. It tickled at first due to his facial hair, and you let out a small laugh, but eventually, it started to feel really good.

He found all of the sweet spots on your neck, sucking and licking, desperate to hear the pleased moans that escaped you every time he touched you the way you liked. Once he seemed to want more, he began to travel further down your body. You smiled when he ventured over your breasts, gasped when he reached your stomach, and paused when he kissed your pelvic area.

Petting his hair, you spoke. “Carlos?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, looking up at you. He was waiting for you to give the go-ahead.

You felt a little nervous asking, but you knew it was important. “Have you been tested recently?”

He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been sexually active for a while, so I haven’t gone to get a test any time recent. The last time I did, though, there were no concerns.” He then picked up your leg, throwing it over his broad shoulder. He placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Is that okay?”

You nodded your head and returned to running your fingers through his curls. He smiled up at you and started kissing through the bottom piece of your swimsuit again.

Once he figured he had done enough teasing, he removed your leg off his shoulder, slipping the bottoms down. You stepped out of it, and he picked your leg up again, placing it in its former position on his shoulder.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy.” he said nonchalantly, placing a kiss on where the slit started.

You laughed a little, pulling his head back to look up at you. He let you do it. “And you’ve got a pretty face to look at while you eat my pretty pussy.”

He let out a small exhale of a laugh, and you felt his breath brush up against your clit. Your grip on his head shivered, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Soon enough, he was licking and kissing your soft spot. He took his time, remaining very gentle and attentive. No tremble, no shake, no quiver went unnoticed while he worked.

As you started to get closer to orgasm, you pulled him by his hair, tilting his head up at you. His eyes were half-lidded, staring up at you, his lapping at your folds unwavering.

You rubbed yourself a little more forcibly into him, grinding against his face. He seemed to like it, as he placed a hand on your hip, bringing you down even harder onto him every time you pushed up against him.

You felt yourself getting close, and the moans you had been stifling were getting hard to hold in. “Fucking god, Carlos, I’m close.” you murmured.

Carlos didn’t respond, nor speed up, he simply shut his eyes and kept the pace he had been going at. You stared down at his eyelashes, admiring how long they were as you came.

Your body shook a little, and once the high was over, you were panting, relying on Carlos to hold you up. He slowly pulled away, placing your leg back down, running his hands up your body as he stood up with you.

He held you for a moment, placing your head against his chest, and rubbing your back as you calmed down.

Once your breathing was steady, you pulled away from him, grabbing him by the shirt. His eyes widened, and he gave you an amused look.

You clung to him for a moment, before running your hands down his body as you got onto your knees in front of him.

Panicked, he took your hands off him and held them gently. “Hey, hey– you don’t have to–”

You looked up at him, still panting a little. “I’m paying you back.”

He shook his head, and then let go of one of your hands to caress your face. “Nah. Not this time. You can pay me back another time. After all, if I let you pay me back now, you might just run away and I won’t get to see you again.”

He smiled down at you as he said it, and you blushed a little when you realized he said not this time. That meant that there would be other times.

He then helped you up to your feet and kissed you again. It was a gentle kiss, but after your last orgasm, you were feeling needy for something faster.

You took the lead from him, kissing him as aggressively as you could to show that you were ready for him to be a little more rough with you. He seemed to get the hint but pulled away from the kiss.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, seeming a little downcast at the thought.

You smiled at him, your arms now around his neck. “I do.”

He perked up a little and smirked at you. “You’re a little too prepared for a damsel-in-distress, aren’t you?”

You laughed and replied as you went to get the condom from your purse. “I’d say I’m just the right amount of prepared.”

As you walked back over to him with the condom, he pulled you in and started kissing your neck once more. He moved from up, down, up, down, then up again before whispering in your ear. “Think you’re prepared enough to put it on me?”

You laughed at his smooth words, and you whispered back. “What, you don’t know how to put one on yourself?”

He chuckled, and pulled away, taking the condom as you handed it to him. He tore it open using his teeth, staring down at you as he did it. Once it was open, you made a smart remark. “You know you’re not supposed to use your teeth to get it out, right?”

He chuckled, placing the wrapper and condom in his palm. He made a closed fist and went to remove his clothes. You admired his body as he did – and in regards to your earlier comment about him being a hairy man, you were right. He had just the right amount of chest hair, as well as a happy trail stemming from his trimmed pubic area. “Guess you were right – I don’t know how to put one on, after all.”

You laughed, watching him slide the thin condom onto his shaft. He was pretty big – you were a little worried about being able to fit all of him in.

Once he was certain the condom was on well, he looked over at you before picking you up in a rush. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your head in his neck. After a couple of seconds, you felt the cold wall against your back, and arched into him a little, trying to escape from the freezing touch.

He made a hmm noise that sounded amused at your squirming and then began pecking little kisses on your neck. You slowly eased back against the wall, getting used to the cold.

Once you did, Carlos began to press his body into you. You could tell Carlos enjoyed getting as much skin-on-skin as he could when intimate because he was always somehow buried in your touch.

His hips ground his cock into your stomach, humping you slowly as he continued to suck your neck. You were starting to get a little impatient now, wanting him inside you already, and so the next time he ground into you, you ground back.

He didn’t seem to be expecting it, as he let out a throaty, closed-mouth moan. He got the hint, though, as he pulled back a little, and propped himself at your entrance.

Slowly, he lowered you down onto his cock. He inserted the head first, watching your expression to see if it was okay. You winced a little, and he noticed.

Whispering, he tried to encourage you while he eased into you. “You’re doing good, Y/N. Most damsels-in-distress would’ve given up by now.”

You laughed, feeling him sink into you more. He smiled, watching your face as you adjusted. “Want me to make some noise for you?” he said, lowering his voice.

You nodded your head, interested in what noises he was going to make.

He placed his head on your shoulder, beginning to make subtle grunts and moans the more his cock delved into you.

You started to get a little more wet from hearing his voice, turned on by the presumable pleasure he was feeling as he moved in deeper and deeper. Eventually, he was fully in, and you were more than ready to get started.

You tapped his shoulder, insinuating that you were good to go. He picked his head up from your collarbone, then pressed his forehead against yours as he began to pull out, then push back in.

Both of you gasped silently, gripping one another as a way to express how good it felt. He continued to move, alternating the way he did it, going from rolling his hips in a continuous rhythm to jerkily bucking into you. Carlos was proving to be a spontaneous lover, and you had to admit, you enjoyed being kept on your toes.

Eventually, things started to pick up, and Carlos was now thrusting into you with a feverish desire. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, hearing his heavy breathing every time he pulled away for air. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he came, and so you decided that you would start making your way to orgasm as well.

One of your arms reached down to your clit, and you began to rub yourself while Carlos buried himself in you. He pulled away from the kiss with a pop, which actually wasn’t as audible, since it was drowned out by the sound of both of your breathing, moaning, and collision of skin.

He buried his head into your neck, a slur of whines, grunts, and moans escaping his lips.

You listened to his voice, closing your eyes, and focusing on reaching your climax. It didn’t take long after he caught on that you were right there, and whispered in your ear, “Do it. Cum on me. Cum on my cock.”

As you came down from your high, you trembled in Carlos’ arms. You noticed he was starting to become shaky himself, and you were a little worried as you felt his hands wobble underneath your bottom. It was likely that his arms were getting tired from holding you up for a prolonged amount of time.

You pulled his head in close, whispering in his ear. As you did, you heard his breath hitch, panting as if he were desperate for air. “Carlos,” you said, “Let me help you cum. What do you need?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a moan came out at first. “My back…scratch up my back.”

You listened to what he asked, digging your nails into his skin, softly at first, and then a little more rough once you felt him shiver. He seemed to like it a lot.

He continued, which surprised you a little. You thought he would’ve stopped at his one request, but he didn’t. He must’ve been a needy man. “Kiss my neck,” he huffed, “please, Y/N.”

You followed what he asked, kissing on his neck as you clawed up the muscles on his back. It didn’t take much longer after that, and soon enough his entire body was trembling. He thrust a couple more times into you, grunting as he did, and you felt his cock jerk as he spilled his warm seed into the condom.

As soon as he came, his hands lost most of their grip on holding you, and you unwrapped your legs around his waist, jumping down. You felt him press into you, heaving as if he weren’t getting any air. You smiled and decided to comfort him as he did for you earlier after eating you out.

Pulling him into an embrace, you felt his head rest against the wall, trying to reach your shoulder, but failing as he was too tall. You chuckled and began to rub his back, talking to him in an endearing tone. “You good, Carlos?”

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good.” he huffed, and soon after his response, he pulled back, standing straight as he looked down at you.

“So, was it good? For you, I mean.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

You laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “It was really good. The best I’ve ever had, I’d say.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and kissing it, “It was good for me, too. Turns out I really like saving damsels-in-distress. Who knew, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. The two of you then continued your back-and-forth witty remarks, while agreeing on going to wash yourselves off quickly in the showers that were a part of the locker room you just had sex in. As you both bathed in separate stalls, you continued to talk, practically yelling over the bustling of the shower head as the water fell.You hoped no one was nearby outside, because it was likely they would have heard you.

Once finished, the two of you got dressed and grabbed your stuff. Luckily enough, the locker room that you went into was the men’s, so Carlos was able to grab his things from the locker he usually uses when on lifeguard duty.

The two of you then walked out of the building together, acting like a newlywed couple. You teased one another, laughing and joking around as you had the entire night.

Once outside, feeling the chill on your skin, you both paused, not sure where to go from there. You both didn’t really want to go your separate ways.

You desperately wanted to ask for his number, but you weren’t sure how to do so in a witty and playful way. You didn’t want to ask outright, because for some reason, even after all you just did, you worried it would come off as desperate. Even though you were desperate.

You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by Carlos. “Hey, so, if it’s alright with you–you wouldn’t mind me asking for your number, would you?”

You giggled, happy that he was thinking of the same thing. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. I was just thinking of asking the same thing.”

Carlos smiled, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers. “Make sure to give me a cutesy name and contact photo.” He said playfully grinning at you.

And that gave you an idea. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture right now? That way we both get to have a cute contact photo.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair, and then let you hold your phone up, ready to take the picture.

“Cheese!” you exclaimed, and he laughed as you pressed the camera button.

After taking the photo, you sent it to him straight away. The two of you then realized it was getting late, and you couldn’t drag your time on with one another any longer. You said your goodbyes, and both went in different directions to get into your cars.

As soon as you got into your car, you started it and began to think about your night. Your cheeks blushed, and you immediately grabbed your phone. You had to tell your friends what happened.

Unsurprisingly, they all freaked out on you, exclaiming how they were wondering where you went. You laughed a little, typing out a quick summary. After hitting send, one of your friends began to ask strange questions.

“Jill: Wait, what does he look like?”

Puzzled, you typed out a relatively simple description. After a couple of minutes, your friend responded.

“Jill: Wtf I think I know him”

“Jill: He’s in my science class???”

“Jill: Dude sucks at science lmao”

You were a little taken aback by the revelation of Jill knowing Carlos, although you were a little more shocked at him sucking at science. He seemed like a science-y kinda guy.

As you continued to chat with your friends, you got a notification from Carlos. Your heartbeat quickened, and you wondered what he had to say so soon.

Upon opening the notification, you saw that what he had sent was a screenshot of your contact name and profile picture in his phone – it was the selfie the two of you took, along with the name “Damsel.”

You reply with your own screenshot, which also used the selfie the two of you took, while his name was set to “Phelps.” It didn’t take long for him to reply,

“Phelps: Hey, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to call a gentleman Phelps?”

You laughed out loud, and could already tell you’d be spending the rest of your night talking with Carlos.

Oh well. The night was still young.

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

#carlos oliveira #carlos resident evil #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira fluff #resident evil smut #resident evil fluff #resident evil #resident evil oneshot #kinktober 23 #kinktober #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #instalove #pool boy #re3 remake #size difference #re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #smut

177 notes · View notes

osaemu · 1 year ago

Text

extension of this post

please please reblog if you enjoyed whatever i posted. just liking the post essentially does nothing for me, and while i do appreciate the gesture it doesn't actually help me get more traffic into my blog or into the work itself. there's a reason i always add a "reblogs very appreciated" sentence at the end of everything i post, and it's really discouraging when something i write gets thousands of likes but just around 300 reblogs. again, i really do appreciate all the interactions nonetheless, but just liking the post doesn't actually help me as a creator. all you have to do to support me is hit the reblog button instead — this isn't instagram. there's no algorithm here.

so i started writing smut maybe a month or a month and a half ago, and it was kind of a shock when i saw the difference in notes between the genres. the highest amount of notes i've received on a sfw fic is almost 4000, which is still a lot but not nearly as impressive as over 13000 on a smut fic that i hardly put any effort into. i'm glad that people enjoy the smut i write, but it's just a little frustrating when something i put more effort into gets significantly less recognition than something i wrote on a whim. for example, my most popular work to date, the 'free to talk' one. i genuinely disliked it as i wrote it but didn't want to waste it, so i posted it just to satisfy the part of me that didn't want to scrap it. somehow, the drabble that i barely put any time into got the most notes i've ever received, and again while i really am grateful for the interactions, it just rubs me the wrong way that something like that can get more traffic than something i wrote and genuinely liked writing.

lately i've been receiving a lot of asks, definitely more than i used to get and i just wanted to say thank you to everyone, anon or not who sent me them! i actually really like receiving asks, and i've heard stories that creators used to get significantly more than they do now. i've made posts asking people to send me asks because some days my inbox is empty and others there's a couple asks in there, but overall i find it odd that i can have thousands of followers and still receive little to no interaction on a bad day. so yea just send me an ask anytime, even if it's just the most insignificant thing ever, like idk a tiktok edit you saw or something that happened in your day, i'd love to hear about it!

if anyone read all the way down here thank u sm i love u

#✧ — stfu

60 notes · View notes

luxlisbons · 11 months ago

Text

Voulez-Vous? - part i

Mencken's ego takes a hit when Harriet's eye wanders to the newly elected French president. In response, he engineers a grand state dinner, turning diplomatic affairs into a battlefield of jealousy.

part of the "before there's hell to pay" universe: part i - part ii - part iii

pairing: jeryd mencken x original female character. 4k

warnings: affairs, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, explicit language, age difference, smut, religious imagery & symbolism, unprotected sex, pov first person, the french

a/n: lmao so... this idea came to be thanks to @rxgirlie and i's obsession with a current french actor known for playing a lawyer in a film (iykyk), so picture him as marcel reynaud (who will make his appearance in the second part). thank you so much to Kels and my friend Lu @nyheartbreak for proofreading and encouraging me to post this.

Read on AO3.

It all started with an online poll. The Buzzfeed type of crap you read while waiting for the clock to strike 5 pm in your crummy little open space office.

“The definitive list of the 10 hottest presidents”

Usually, despite his very alienating politics, Mencken would place number one. What can I say? Everyone loves a bad boy, especially one they can fix with sex. Attention was brought to his steely gaze, the danger and confidence he exuded in his speeches, and his past as a 90s rock band member:

“Okay but 90s Mencken??? Twink goals, honestly😍”

“Mencken got me like 😱🔥”

“I never thought I'd say this, but Jeryd Mencken, you're kinda hot 😅 “

“He is such a silver fox zaddy 🦊”

His unofficial title became “Silver Fox in Chief”, and it gave us tabloid fodder for when we wanted to deflect from his racist dog whistles and controversial actions in D.C., which was a lot of the time for very obvious reasons. We were like puppet masters pulling the strings, orchestrating this wild media circus around Mencken. It was a classic ATN move, redirecting attention from the messy stuff and instead shining the spotlight on Mencken's supposed charm.

We brainstormed catchy hashtags and encouraged people to share their favorite Mencken moments online. It was all about creating a narrative that suited our agenda – making him this irresistible figure, a distraction from the serious issues at hand. We knew how to play the game, and damn, did it work. The internet ate it up, and suddenly, Mencken was not just a president; he was a phenomenon.

The internet had found a new obsession; fancams flooded the internet– from the way he adjusted his tie to the subtle glances he threw at the camera during press conferences. TikTok became a breeding ground for creative edits, with old concert footage seamlessly synchronized to modern pop hits, each video racking up millions of views and fueling the ever-growing fandom.

Twitter experienced a constant Mencken presence. Anytime the president made a public appearance or donned a new suit, his name would surge to the top of trending lists. The online obsession transcended political boundaries; even those who vehemently disagreed with Mencken's policies found themselves unable to resist his allure.

His press conferences were now attended not just by political journalists but also by entertainment reporters eager to capture the latest juicy details about the "hottest president" phenomenon. Mencken, bemused and enjoying the attention, tried to redirect the conversation to policy matters, while also stoking the fires with quips and acknowledgments of his sex symbol status.

His fanbase (which consisted of both ironic and genuine fans) even created a nickname for themselves: the “Mencken Fuckers”. They organized themselves into a formidable online community. They created fan art, fan fiction, and even fan-made music videos that further propelled the president into pop culture stardom. The group's ironic name didn't deter their dedication; they wore it as a badge of honor, unapologetically reveling in their unconventional admiration for the leader of the free world.

One such video caught my undivided attention while doomscrolling through TikTok late at night. It was one created with candid moments in which I appeared beside him, laughing and talking with Lana Del Rey’s song “Let The Light In” playing in the background. The chemistry between the both of us, set against the dreamy soundtrack, fueled speculation and excitement among the Mencken Fuckers. It both amused and mortified me how close to the actual truth they were.

Caption: "Is it just me, or are these two looking like the ultimate power duo? 👀💼💫 #CloseEncounters #PoliticalChemistry"

Comments:

1. @ShipperSupreme: Move over romance novels, this is the love story we didn't know we needed! 😂❤️

2. @CuriousMinds: Are we witnessing the birth of a new power couple? 👫💫

3. @LaughingWithLana: Lana Del Rey's song just makes this whole thing even more iconic! 🎶🔥

4. @Daydreamer_Deluxe: I ship it! 😍💘 Who needs reality when we can have this fantasy?

5. @RealityCheck: Wait, are we calling them #Menkenriet or #Harren now? 🤔

6. @CupidInTheComments: My arrows of love have found a new target! 💘🏹

7. @PoliticalLoveAffairs: Move aside, political drama; we're here for the romance! 🇺🇸❤️

I couldn’t help myself, I sent the link to Mencken, who after some technical wrangling on his part “I’m 54, of course I’m not gonna have Tik Tok installed for fuck’s sake” finally saw it.

The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of my empty apartment, startling General Meow from her nap and sending her scurrying toward the living room. I sighed, muttering to myself about the timing, and picked up after the first ring, feeling like a good little lap dog.

"Hey there, Mencken," I greeted, smirking to myself as I imagined his perplexed expression on the other end. "Ready for a little adventure in the world of internet?"

Mencken's voice echoed through the line, confusion lacing every word, "Harriet, what in the hell is going on? Why are people shipping us? Are we supposed to be getting something delivered?"

Suppressing a laugh, I explained, "No, Mencken, it's not about deliveries. It's a term they use on the internet when people want two characters or real people to be in a romantic relationship. They call it 'shipping.'"

There was a brief pause before Mencken asked incredulously, "Shipping? Like cargo and ships?"

I chuckled, covering my mouth to stifle the laughter. "Not quite. It's short for 'relationship.' They think we're the ultimate power couple, Mencken."

"Is this some kind of secret code or a new political term I missed in my briefings?" Mencken's confusion was palpable.

I couldn't help but tease, "No secret code, just internet slang. They're imagining us as this influential and glamorous duo."

Another pause, then Mencken's voice returned, this time more incredulous, "You're telling me there are people out there who think we're having an affair? With each other?"

"Yep, that's the gist of it. Welcome to the world of shipping, Mencken. It's a strange place," I replied, my grin growing wider. “And they've even given us a ship name – #Menckenriet. Catchy, right?" I couldn't help but enjoy the absurdity of it all.

Mencken sighed on the other end, probably shaking his head, "I can't believe this is happening."

"Embrace the fame, Mencken! Who knows, maybe we'll start a new trend in political shipping," I teased, still grinning.

There was a long-suffering sigh from Mencken. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I have a country to run."

"Your loss, Mencken. #Menckenriet could've been the political love story of the century," I quipped.

As I prepared to hang up, he interjected with a serious tone, "Wait, do they actually know about us... you know, being intimate?"

My playful demeanor faltered for a moment. "No, Mencken. It's just speculation and fantasy. They don't know anything for sure."

Mencken sounded relieved, "Good. Let's keep it that way."

But before I could end the call, he added in a soft voice, "Clear up your schedule. I'm gonna drop by during the weekend."

Since Rome, Mencken's hard veneer had chipped away. He made more time for me, wasn't as mean – well, still an asshole, but, as he put it, "Your asshole, sweetheart.”

“Well, aren't you so romantic,” I mused mostly to myself, a wry smile playing on my lips.

“Yeah, well, I figured life's too short to be a constant jerk. Besides, dealing with you is marginally less irritating than dealing with most people," I couldn't suppress a laugh. High praise, indeed. Looking forward to the weekend then.

As the call concluded, I imagined Mencken shaking his head and muttering, "I'm too old for this." I let out a loud hyena cackle which leaves General Meow staring at me with her wide green eyes.

______________________________________________________________

And then the French presidential election happened.

It was a tight race between three players, each one from a widely different part of the political spectrum. On one hand, the far-right candidate, the heiress of the National Rally, Marine Le Pen, was Mencken's pick. On the other hand, the incumbent President, Emmanuel Macron, stood as a centrist, aiming to maintain stability and balance in turbulent times. The third contender, Marcel Reynaud, a charismatic socialist from the left, caught the attention of many with his passionate speeches and a boyish yet distinguished appearance, with graying hair that hinted at wisdom beyond his years, reminiscent of a Dostoevsky prince.

As the campaign unfolded, Marcel Reynaud's popularity soared. His fiery rhetoric and genuine connection with the people resonated across various demographics. The public, weary of the traditional political dichotomy, found in him a fresh and appealing alternative. The French, tired of voting for the lesser of two evils, began to rally behind Reynaud, drawn by the promise of a new era and genuine change.

Reynaud's physical presence added an extra layer to his appeal. Imagine a man with rugged charm, grey tousled hair that hinted at rebelliousness, and piercing blue eyes that conveyed both intensity and empathy. His speeches, delivered with conviction, echoed a vision of a more inclusive and socially just France.

Election day arrived, and the people of France turned out in record numbers. The results trickled in, each update intensifying the suspense. When the final count was announced, it was Marcel Reynaud who emerged as the victor. The socialist left candidate had secured a historic win, breaking the stronghold of the traditional political forces.

As the news of his victory spread, so did the memes, fan art, and adoring posts dedicated to Marcel Reynaud. Internet users affectionately dubbed him the "French boyfriend," and hashtags like #ReynaudRevolution and #MarcelMania trended worldwide. He quickly dethroned Mencken as the hottest president online, captivating not just the French public but garnering attention on the global stage.

The internet was flooded with swooning comments about Reynaud's “elf” vibes, and fan accounts dedicated to his every move and policy decision multiplied. Memes comparing him to heroes from literature circulated, portraying him as the embodiment of a modern-day romantic lead. His charisma had transcended politics; he had become a symbol of a new era, both politically and personally.

______________________________________________________________

Mencken was not impressed. Despite being in his mid 50s, he still was a petty child underneath it all, mad about the spotlight being taken off him and given to a soy boy from France of all places.

The ping of random texts, accompanied by a distinctive ringtone reserved exclusively for him, never failed to jolt me with a thrill, whether I was immersed in work or drifting off to sleep – a Pavlovian response he found pathetically endearing.

M "Just saw another damn article about Marcel Reynaud. 🙄 Apparently, he's the new poster boy for socialism. What a load of crap."

H: "Oh, Mencken, you're just jealous that Reynaud's stealing the limelight. 😏”

M: "Another day, another interview with Reynaud. 📰 Can't escape the guy. Do you think he practices that brooding stare in the mirror?"

H: "Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's political strategy. 🤷🏻‍♀️"

M: "Thoughts on Marcel's new hairstyle? 💇‍♂️ Trying to figure out if he's attempting a political rebrand or just desperately needs a barber."

H: "Maybe he's channeling the winds of change through his hair. 😂 At least he's keeping things interesting. You should try it sometime."

M: "Harriet, tell me you didn't fall for the hype. 🤨 The French might adore their 'heartthrob,' but I know you have better taste."

H: "Of course not, Mencken. I only have eyes for the 'old and grumpy' type. 😉

To that last text he replied with a hilariously outdated “fuck yea” meme, highlighting how out of touch he could be sometimes.

______________________________________________________________

In one of our romantic getaways, (if you can call secretly meeting in a pre-swept room with Secret Service agents hanging outside the door romantic) he once again brought up le problème.

We had dinner from Dorsia’s to-go in my apartment, with General Meow eyeing our food from her own seat at the table. I tried to make conversation but Mencken's answers were clipped, a subtle giveaway that something was amiss. I took it all in stride, already accustomed to his mercurial moods. I knew that he was stressed about something and that once we fucked, he would relax and the tension would dissipate.

Wanting to make up for missing a couple of our dates, he takes me for a drive around the city in a sleek black car with tinted windows, a partition separating us from the chauffeur. The sound of muffled traffic and a bossa nova playlist was our soundtrack, as we furiously make out like teenagers on their way to prom. He’s quiet except for the sighs that escape his lips. I get needy and he likes it, petting me the same way he does my cat. The similarity does not escape me. His hands begin to go lower until they eventually find my hot center and he smiles against my mouth as he realises I’m not wearing panties. Mencken's voice, low and husky, breaks the silence as he whispers, "You always know how to keep things interesting, Harriet."

I respond with a teasing smile, my voice a breathless whisper, "Well, Mr. President, I aim to please."

His fingers continued their exploration, tracing patterns of fire on my clit. “Mr. President? You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his lips trailing hot kisses along my neck as he slips two fingers into me.

The combined sensation sends shivers down my spine. I cry out of pleasure and I am thankful for the soundproofed privacy the partition offers us. Eager to reciprocate, my hand instinctively moved toward his belt, but Mencken halted my advance with a gentle yet firm grip.

“Not here, better in the hotel room,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The promise of what awaited us hung tantalizingly in the air.

Our destination was a high-rise hotel he had booked, soaring 68 floors into the city skyline. It was quintessentially Mencken, reveling in the sensation of being the most powerful man even during sex. The car eased into a lull inside the hotel's basement parking lot, providing a moment for me to compose myself while awaiting the Secret Service's assurance that the coast was clear.

Mencken eyes me mockingly. “You do realise they all know what we’re just doing in here and what we’re about to do in that room”.

I roll my eyes and reply, “A girl has to keep some secrets. Adds to the intrigue, doesn't it?"

He smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, let them think what they want. It's not like we've ever been ones to play by the rules."

With a final nod from the Secret Service, Mencken opens the car door, ushering me out. The hotel's opulent lobby awaits us, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The atmosphere is hushed, with the discreet professionalism one would expect in such an establishment.

He is rough, manhandling me immediately after we cross the threshold of the room.

The door closes behind us, and the plush interior of the room envelops us in a cocoon. The dim lighting casts a sultry ambiance, amplifying the energy that crackles between us.

Mencken turns to face me, his eyes filled with a hunger that matches my own. With a swift move, he captures my lips in a kiss, his hands roaming possessively over my body. In the intimate space, he pins me against the door, a delicious urgency in his touch. His kisses travel from my lips down to the curve of my neck, igniting a cascade of shivers. The feeling lights me whole like a star. He grabs my hand and leads towards the floor to ceiling windows, the quiet city completely unaware of what is about to unfold. Mencken's eyes lock onto mine, a silent communication passing between us. With a heated intensity, he guides me onto my knees, the plush carpet beneath feeling cool against my skin.

My hands find their way to his belt, fingers working deftly to release him. His cock is already half hard, forming a wet patch on his boxers. I pull them down to spring him free and my tongue reaches out in anticipation. In that moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving the two of us suspended in time. His fingers tangle in my hair, a silent encouragement to continue the exploration. As my lips inch closer to their destination, I can feel the heightened tension in the room. His arousal is palpable, the air charged intensity. I wet my mouth, preparing to take him in, and our eyes lock as my lips envelop him. A shiver runs through Mencken's body, and the room echoes with his moans of pleasure.

As the sensations escalate, Mencken's husky voice breaks the silence. "Harriet," he says, a blend of urgency and pleasure in his tone. I smile at him, as much as one can smile with a mouthful of cock. Yet, he knows—I look at him with such adoration as if I were in prayer and him my patron saint. The city outside may slumber in blissful ignorance, but within these four walls, I hold the most powerful man in the world in my grasp.

I alternate between licking his length and kissing his tip, his skin flushing to a delicious shade of pink. “Adorable” is definitely not the best adjective to describe him, nevertheless it is the word that comes to your mind. Yes, this man who can be quite vicious and spew the most hateful vitriol can also exhibit a human side. In those rare moments when it's just the two of us, away from the public eye, I get a glimpse of a softer side that few get to witness. This only eggs me on, and I fasten my maneuvers until he can barely keep standing still.

Just when I’m about to finish him off, he jolts me up and pushes me into the bed, covering me with his body, engulfing me. He stays still for a few seconds and places his wedding band covered hand protectively over my neck. He stares at me deeply and suddenly feeling self conscious I look away.

"Harriet…” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. His hand moves towards my chin and commands me to look straight at him. “Look at me, please”.

And I do. His thumb brushes gently over my cheek, and he leans down to place a soft kiss on my lips. "You're incredible, you know that?" he whispers, his words a mixture of admiration and desire.

He seems more expressive tonight, a departure from his usual sour demeanor. “Yeah, I am very well aware of it, thank you for the reminder.” I decide to inject a bit of humor into the situation. While I appreciate this more open side of him, it's honestly weirding me out a bit.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t get cocky.”

“Shut up. Quick, kiss me again, old man.”

He smirks, leaning in for another kiss. Our lips meet, and the intensity between us reignites. We make quick work of our clothes, and he has me on all fours facing the window. I try to push away the thought of him imagining fucking the city in that egomaniac head of his. As he roams my body, I focus on the sensation, letting the pleasure wash over me. The position lets him get in much deeper, which combined with one hand pulling my hair and the other spanking me on the ass, makes me go crosseyed and incoherent.

“Oh shit, fuck! Oh my god”, I gasp in between moans. This goads him into increasing his thrusts and to reply with possibly the most cliche response ever.

“Nope, just me”, he snarls.

“Ugh, just shut up and fuck me, you asshole”, I groan out both in pleasure and cringe.

He pulls me up while still inside me so my back is against his chest. His calloused fingers come to rest on breasts and my clit, both rotating and pinching me in exquisite pleasure. Inside I get hot white and my vision goes out as the tautness that has been growing explodes. Mencken follows closely, my pussy milking him until he comes inside of me.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes the room in a warm aura as Mencken and I fall in tangled limbs. With the air thick with a heady mixture of contentment and the smell of sex, Mencken, typically stoic post coitus, couldn't resist diving headfirst into banter.

His eyes wandered to the ceiling, contemplating the subject that had crept into his thoughts. "You know, I can't help but think about the French election."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, so now you feel like talking. Do tell. Is there a particular candidate you find captivating? Is this why you were so broody this evening?”

Mencken's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Marcel Reynaud, the so-called heartthrob. I fail to see what the fuss is about."

I propped myself up on an elbow, ready for the snarky exchange that was bound to follow.

"Well, Mencken, not everyone can appreciate his charm. Or perhaps, you're just not into the whole 'French boyfriend' craze?"

Mencken scoffed, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, please! He's just another commie with a mediocre appeal. Looks like he belongs in some sad Eastern European gay porn."

I couldn't help but burst into laughter at his blunt assessment.

"Oh, Mencken, you have such a way with words. I suppose, in your eyes, only right-wing politicians can be easy on the eyes?"

Mencken grinned, his snarkiness unwavering. "Exactly."

Teasing him further, I continued, "Well, you can't deny he's got a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe you're just jealous that the internet's boyfriend title slipped away from you."

Mencken scoffed again, feigning indifference, “Jealous? Hardly."

Chuckling, I replied, "Of course not, Mencken. Your appeal is far too sophisticated for the masses."

“Wait, you really find him hot? You have the most powerful man in the world in your bed but you still are thinking about some third-rate European lefty? He isn’t even a full president, he has a fucking prime minister!”

“Woah there, I thought you weren’t jealous.”

“I’m just disappointed in you. Really, what happened to your taste?”

He has a plane to catch the next morning. So when he has enough rest, (“I’m an old man, remember?”) he fucks me once again after eating me out, another habit he has picked up from Rome. During the week I have to wear turtlenecks and scarves to cover up the love bites he left over my chest and neck. Immature asshole.

______________________________________________________________

His administration suddenly became very interested in US-France relations. I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind, the wheels of diplomacy greased with a hint of jealousy. The irony wasn't lost on me—the leader of the free world, concerned about a romantic rival from across the Atlantic.

One evening, as we lounged in my apartment with General Meow resting on his lap, Mencken couldn't resist poking at the issue. “Any thoughts on how we can improve diplomatic ties with France? Perhaps organize a state dinner, or maybe I should visit him on a diplomatic mission?”

I exhale a sigh, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You're the President of the United States. I'm pretty sure there are more pressing matters than cozying up to Marcel Reynaud just because your lover thinks he’s hot.”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I just thought it would be a shame if our relations suffered due to my charming French competition."

And so it was decided, a state dinner was on the horizon, orchestrated not just for diplomatic reasons but also as a subtle way for Mencken to flex his presidential prowess in the face of a perceived rival. It was not lost on me that, deep down, this was more about asserting dominance. Men and their petty egos.

In the weeks leading up to the state dinner, Mencken's text arrived, a blend of formality and subtle suggestion. "Pick something nice, my dear. You'll be seated with me and Marcel. Let's make it a spectacular evening."

#succession #jeryd mencken #jeryd mencken x reader #succession fanficion #succession fanfic #justin kirk #succession hbo

37 notes · View notes